A quarter of an hour after the Emperor said those words — “do not regret it” —

Xiao Nanhui regretted it.

Perhaps “regret” alone was too simple a word. She was more than a little frightened.

Another transgression had been added to her running tally of blunders in the Emperor’s presence. This time she had even tied his hair ribbon for him — looking back on it now, it was no different from a mouse fastening a bell around a cat’s neck.

When the Emperor asked whether she feared him, the question likely carried two layers of meaning. The first was simply whether she feared him as a person. The second was whether she feared the imperial power and heavenly authority he represented.

But regardless of which it was, she, as a subject of Tiancheng, should never have given that answer.

Much as she was reluctant to admit it, in that moment before dawn, she had not seen the man before her as the sovereign of Tiancheng — she had seen him as an ordinary person, and out of that had come a feeling that was entirely out of place.

Thinking on it now, it must have been because she had been sleep-deprived and muddled of late, and her eyes had been bewitched by a beautiful face — that was why she had said what she said.

The trouble was that the one who heard those words was, as always, perfectly lucid.

After saying those words of ambiguous significance, the Emperor had reverted to his usual self in an instant, as though nothing had happened at all, and strolled down the hill at his leisure.

Xiao Nanhui’s heart, however, was in complete upheaval — even her legs were trembling a little.

Tiancheng was said to have a tradition of not executing military commanders. She had no desire to become the exception to that rule.

Every fierce and unyielding part of her nature had retreated entirely, while the craven part rose fully to the surface.

She attributed this strange phenomenon to the enormous gap in rank between them.

It had to be because he was the Emperor — that was the only reason she was always in such a sorry state around him.

In the gray morning light, Xiao Nanhui stumbled back to Mo Chunhua’s tent in the camp.

She had barely taken two steps inside when she received two solid punches to the head. Even so, she was still somewhat in a daze.

Mo Chunhua, furious, lit a lamp and held it up. When she finally made out Xiao Nanhui’s face, she paused for a moment and then gave her a slanted look. “Where did you come crawling back from? Not a word of warning — lucky I didn’t bring a big stick down on you, or that head of yours would have been split right open.”

Xiao Nanhui didn’t bother responding. She couldn’t be bothered to argue: Mo Chunhua couldn’t land a blow on her even if she swung ten big sticks.

Mo Chunhua yawned and pulled on her thick padded coat. She turned to look at Xiao Nanhui, who had the air of someone who had lost her soul, and raised an eyebrow. “My, my. Not even a full day and a half apart, and you’ve turned into this — looks like you really did offend His Majesty.”

Xiao Nanhui still said nothing. She unbuckled her Pingxian bow and tossed it aside, then fell backward onto the small bed of stacked woolen rugs, arms crossed over her chest, like a corpse laid out in state.

Mo Chunhua let out a cold snort, picked up the Pingxian bow, and used it as a poker to stir the nearly dead charcoal in the brazier nearby.

Xiao Nanhui did, predictably, look over.

“What are you doing?”

Mo Chunhua stirred the charcoal with the bow until it clattered and clanked. “So you haven’t gone mute.”

She opened her mouth, then let it fall shut again listlessly, rolled over to face away from Mo Chunhua, adopting the posture of someone who prefers not to see what they don’t want to think about.

Mo Chunhua fussed around for a while until her hands grew sore, and then the scattered coals had to be swept up by herself — she had no choice but to throw the bow aside in a huff.

The tiny flame struggled feebly atop the oil lamp, just like Xiao Nanhui’s spirits at this moment.

Mo Chunhua was truly stingy — she wouldn’t even add oil to a lamp.

Her eyelids grew heavy and sank shut. She thought to steal a short sleep while she could, so she might rally herself for the many vexations that lay ahead.

But Mo Chunhua’s mouth, naturally, could not stay closed. She chattered on and on beside her ear, and Xiao Nanhui drew upon the skill she had honed over years of enduring Dujuan’s lectures — every word that came in through her left ear floated out through her right without leaving a trace.

The soft woolen rug enveloped her body as she sank into it, like falling into the clouds, and in that half-dreaming state, a dream she seemed to have had before began to drift back to her.

She peered downward in a daze, and in the dream she saw her own hand clutching half a sleeve.

A moonwhite sleeve.

She followed that strip of fabric upward with her gaze, and there she saw a familiar silhouette.

It was the celestial figure in the moonwhite clothes.

“Please wait, celestial one.”

Oh? This time she could actually speak.

The figure did, indeed, stop, and then slowly turned around.

This time, the radiance on that face seemed to be gradually fading, and at last features with clear, distinct lines appeared.

Wait — how could it be him?!

“Xiao Nanhui.”

No — don’t call her name.

“Xiao Nanhui!”

Xiao Nanhui jolted awake from her light sleep. She blinked several times to bring her scattered thoughts back to the present, then spent another moment remembering where she was.

Mo Chunhua’s face loomed over her, having been calling her urgently just now, and was presently making pointed gestures at her with her eyes.

She followed Mo Chunhua’s gaze and looked back, only to find that a ceremonial official in red robes had appeared at some point and was standing there — eyes cast politely downward, as motionless and formal as a wooden puppet.

“Has Lord Xiao awakened?”

Xiao Nanhui sat bolt upright from the soft couch, then sprang to her feet and bowed. “I have been dreadfully fatigued of late and let my guard down — please do not take offense, good sir. And what is it that —”

She wondered inwardly whether this might be a new battle report from Xiao Zhun’s side, but then thought that military intelligence would hardly be delivered by a ceremonial official, and felt genuinely puzzled.

The ceremonial official bowed in return. “This one has come at His Majesty’s command to request that the Right General attend the royal tent for a military council.” He paused for a moment, then clapped his hands toward the tent entrance. Two assistant officials entered carrying a suit of silver armor. “His Majesty has had this suit of armor specially prepared for you. Right General, please don your armor before attending.”

The felt curtain of the tent was raised a little, and a sliver of warm morning sunlight fell directly upon the suit of silver armor, making Xiao Nanhui’s eyes light up.

It was Guangyao armor — the distinctive battle dress of the Guangyao Camp. It was entirely unlike the dark red infantry armor she had worn at the Subei Camp. The bright chest plate at the front was the source of the name “Guangyao” — “brilliant light.” The full suit was crafted with remarkable precision, and even a single glimmer of light would make it flash with blinding silver radiance.

Previously, when she had left the capital in haste, although she had been granted the rank of general, she hadn’t even had a chance to look closely at the conferment ceremony. She supposed that beyond the gold, there should also have been the suit of armor that only a general was entitled to wear.

She just didn’t know whether Tiancheng had a suit of armor made especially for a woman.

The ceremonial official was clearly someone well accustomed to this sort of task — one perceptive glance told him exactly what Xiao Nanhui was thinking, and he smiled obligingly: “General, this is what you have earned. The armor was newly forged by the armory to the General’s measurements. Please feel free to try it on.” Then he tilted his gaze slightly toward Mo Chunhua. “Will you not attend the General in donning the armor?”

Xiao Nanhui was startled. She would not have dared to order around Mo Chunhua, that tigress in rouge — she waved her hands rapidly. “No, no, there’s really no need — I can manage on my own —”

But Mo Chunhua had already come striding toward her with a dark face. Her iron-hook-like hands clamped around Xiao Nanhui’s two arms, and her voice seemed to be squeezed out through her teeth.

“Your maidservant will attend the General in donning the armor. General, please raise your arms.”

Mo Chunhua said no more after that and closed her mouth. Her expression was far from willing, but she did not cause any further trouble.

Though she was wild by nature, she had grown up with a foreign-born Yiniang and learned what she had to endure. She could not make a scene in front of the ceremonial official — officials of ceremony were the most meddlesome sort, all of them fond of passing on gossip. If anything improper reached her father’s ears, knowing Yan Guang’s temper, he would probably bundle her up and ship her back to the Jizhou residence on the spot.

Poor Xiao Nanhui had truly never been attended on since she could remember, and even trying to cooperate was terribly awkward, while Mo Chunhua’s hands were extremely forceful — by the time the full suit of armor was on, she had broken into a sweat from head to toe.

The ceremonial official appeared entirely unsurprised. He produced a bronze mirror from somewhere and respectfully held it before Xiao Nanhui.

“Please, General — correct your appearance.”

The gleaming bronze mirror reflected a face she knew, yet it looked subtly different from the one that had left the capital several months ago. Perhaps the line of her lips had grown a little firmer, or perhaps those eyes were a little brighter.

Or perhaps her face had not changed at all, and what had changed was only this armor she now wore.

Clad in iron, she would repay his grace.

How ardently she had once longed for the day she might truly become a renowned commander, standing beside Xiao Zhun as a recognized equal.

And now, at last, she had put on this armor — yet it felt unexpectedly heavy. The close-linked rings of the suit were like a tightening rope; they pressed nothing against her sternum, yet they left her somehow short of breath.

When the last wrist guard was buckled, Mo Chunhua stepped back and looked her over, and offered a heartfelt exclamation: “Truly imposing.”

Xiao Nanhui emerged from her thoughts and stole a glance at the young woman beside her. Inwardly amused, she assumed an air of mock solemnity: “There were matters of importance before — I could not reveal my identity in your presence. But now things are different. Surely the daughter of General Yan cannot be so deficient in manners that she would show no proper respect to this General?”

Mo Chunhua was stunned. She clearly hadn’t expected to be caught out like this. Simultaneously indignant and a little alarmed, she bit her lip before finally bending into a proper bow.

“This lowly woman Mo Chunhua pays her respects to Lord Xiao —”

The word “Lord” had not yet left her mouth when Mo Chunhua heard an irrepressible snicker.

The realization dawned on her at once. She raised her head and glared daggers at the woman convulsed in laughter, muttering something under her breath in her Southern Qiang mother tongue. Xiao Nanhui caught enough of it to know it wasn’t anything polite.

She didn’t say a word. She walked to the side, picked up the Pingxian bow, and made to sling it across her back as she always did — only for her hand to rise and meet the cold surface of the armor, at which point she realized that this battle dress probably had no place for her weapon.

She had no choice but to hold the Pingxian bow in her hand. The ceremonial official, seeing this, spoke with polite but unyielding authority: “Lord Xiao, you need only don your armor when presenting yourself. It has always been inappropriate to carry weapons in the imperial presence.”

Xiao Nanhui stood there for a moment, then lowered her head and blew the black charcoal dust from the Pingxian bow before gently handing it to Mo Chunhua.

“Keep this for me for now — I will come and collect it later.”

With that, she did not look again at the startled expression on the young woman’s face, and followed the ceremonial official briskly out of the tent.