“So — what exactly did Ding Weixiang impress upon you that day?”

Xiao Nanhui opened her eyes to find Mo Chunhua holding a horse stance and asking that question with dogged persistence.

“Practice your kung fu properly — stop being so curious about your shifu’s affairs.”

Xiao Nanhui shifted position and crossed her legs, took a sip of steaming hot milk tea, and let out a long, contented sigh.

“Who said anything about calling you shifu?” Mo Chunhua stood up in a huff. “This is already three days — you’re still making me hold horse stance. Are you playing games with me?”

“Three days is nothing. Back when I trained with my adoptive father, I held horse stance for three months.”

She watched calmly as Mo Chunhua went around in circles before returning obediently to her corner.

Mo Chunhua, this young woman — a bit rough around the edges, but someone who could endure hardship.

After the agreement was reached with Ding Weixiang that day, things had been reported up the chain and handed to the Emperor. The Emperor raised no objection — only saying that the martial arts training would begin after Ding Weixiang set off. As it happened, Ding Weixiang had only needed three days to organize the squad and arrange emergency drills — truly swift. She had nothing to do in the meantime, so she used it to pass the time with Mo Chunhua.

Mo Chunhua was a bit rough, but she was a beauty whose face showed traces of foreign blood with a single glance. Although she never complained aloud, judging by what Xiao Nanhui had seen and heard from years of campaigning at the border, she could guess at least something of what this girl had been through.

The South Qiang and Tiancheng had never had easy relations. An illegitimate daughter with foreign blood, and a pretty face on top of it — even raised in a general’s household, life would not have been easy. Xiao Nanhui quietly pitied her circumstances, then thought of her own, and figured she might as well use these few days to teach Mo Chunhua some martial arts, so the girl would not be bullied in the future. And besides, it would give her some practice before she found herself at a complete loss facing the Emperor.

But after just three days, Ding Weixiang’s side had already packed up and was ready.

Hmm — if she told Mo Chunhua that all this horse-stance practice might turn out to be for nothing, would she leap up and grab her by the hair?

Xiao Nanhui clicked her tongue, and the milk tea she had just drunk began to taste a little bitter.

On the other side, Mo Chunhua still had no idea. Her irrepressible love of gossip drifted back up to the surface.

“Hey — tell me — is it true the Emperor wants you to serve him personally?”

“What ‘serve personally’?” Xiao Nanhui corrected her choice of words. “I’m a general. Why would I do the work of a maidservant? It’s called guarding — personal bodyguard duty.”

“Fine.” Mo Chunhua kneaded her thighs with both hands, tilted her head, and thought for a moment. “But I’ve never heard of anyone being asked to teach the Emperor martial arts before.”

Xiao Nanhui’s ears twitched.

Oh? Is that so?

She tested the waters deliberately: “Even if he never trained formally, surely someone must have taught him archery on horseback.”

“Not necessarily. I’ve heard our Emperor has never ridden a horse himself when traveling.”

Xiao Nanhui thought back — that did seem to be the case.

In that light, her current assignment could be counted as quite an honor.

The Son of Heaven was a true dragon — did that not make her something of a dragon tamer?

Tweaking a tiger’s whiskers — what of it? She was the master among masters, the highest of the high!

The thought filled her with a surge of pride she could barely contain — she was one step away from crossing her arms and throwing back her head to laugh three great laughs at the sky.

Ding Weixiang had left camp this morning. It had been no more than half an hour since he went, yet she already felt the air around her growing lighter.

Thinking of him, the image of that verbose swordsman before he left surfaced in her mind.

Ding Weixiang was typically rather expressionless, but this morning he had visibly shown some worry — testament to how deeply troubled he was.

Xiao Nanhui had patted his shoulder and told him to calm down. He had turned around, and for the seventh time said: “There is one more thing.”

She drew a deep breath and forcibly swallowed the howl that had nearly made it to her throat.

She had to endure it. Only by enduring this bout of nagging could she send this great immovable Bodhisattva — who she couldn’t beat, couldn’t silence, and couldn’t get rid of — on his way.

Xiao Nanhui lightly cleared her throat to mask her feelings, and borrowed his master’s manner of putting on a face that smiled on the surface but not in the eyes: “Lord Ding Zhongwei, please speak.”

Ding Weixiang was too busy with his own worries to notice the impatience just barely contained in the other’s eyes, and said gravely: “His Majesty’s person is of supreme worth. When you are instructing him, be absolutely certain to control your force — do not injure him.”

This wasn’t a new thing at all — it was the exact same thing from just now! No — it was the same thing from three days ago!

She continued her internal recitation of the word “endure,” and for the seventh time gave an earnest reply: “That goes without saying. Even if I had ten thousand times the nerve, I would never dream of laying a hand on His Majesty.”

But Ding Weixiang shook his head: “Yet the training ground is unpredictable by nature — as they say, a fist doesn’t have eyes. I worry that in the heat of the moment, you might forget what I said today.”

Xiao Nanhui was just about to roll her eyes in a grand arc to relieve a little of her inner frustration, when a sudden instinct of alarm sent her half a step back.

Could this Ding Weixiang be waiting to catch her out — or even nursing a grudge against the Marquis’s household and looking for grounds to bring charges against her?

“Lord Ding Zhongwei, what you say is incorrect. Your subject believes she carries out her duties to the fullest — and yet you and I are both people who train in martial arts, and we know that if you want to truly learn something, taking a few blows is sometimes unavoidable. If His Majesty were to have my head for that, then your subject would rather not take on this assignment at all.”

She gestured as though about to withdraw, while inwardly she was certain the other side would not simply let her off the hook.

Ding Weixiang, sure enough, said nothing for a moment, and yet that familiar, hesitant, on-the-verge-of-speaking expression appeared on his face.

Xiao Nanhui could feel the vein at her temple throbbing: “Ding Weixiang — don’t you know how insufferable you are sometimes? If there is something to say, just say it. Am I someone without reason?”

But Ding Weixiang seemed to have made up his mind not to spell things out clearly: “Doesn’t Lord Xiao also have things that are hard to say? There is no need to press for every detail. In any case — just remember one thing.” The earnestness on his face became absolutely genuine. “No matter what — do not let His Majesty feel that your actions pose a threat to him. You know, sometimes a person’s instinctive reaction can be terrifying.”

Xiao Nanhui stared at him in perplexed bewilderment, truly unable to tell whether he was underestimating her, or underestimating the person who had trained her — Xiao Zhun.

If you can’t say it, then don’t say it — but there was no need to talk such circles and nonsense at her.

“Lord Xiao?”

Xiao Nanhui came to with a start. The ceremonial official who had brought her armor was standing inside the tent — she hadn’t heard him arrive — and with him was Lu Songping.

Mo Chunhua beside her was openly sizing up the newcomer, probably wondering: How on earth did someone with such a delicate, refined appearance end up as a Black-Feather Camp captain?

In the past few days she and Mo Chunhua had gotten along well enough, and Mo Chunhua’s thoughts were transparent and easy to guess. Xiao Nanhui had probably figured out nine-tenths of what was in her head, so she patted her on the shoulder and said quietly: “Be a little more respectful — or you’ll regret it.”

Mo Chunhua gave a grudging sound that passed for agreement. Then, thinking it over, she decided it was a little humiliating to have been so easily put in her place, and marched forward huffily to take the clothes from the ceremonial official’s arms.

“Right General, the practice ground has been prepared. Please change your clothes and then follow this one there.”

* * *

Before putting on her clothes, Xiao Nanhui had not expected this color.

She ran her hand over the vermillion short-sleeved training suit and looked at it curiously from left to right, then couldn’t help asking: “There are clothes in this color in the camp? I’ve never noticed before.”

The ceremonial official, walking a few steps ahead with his head down, didn’t look back: “This one doesn’t know about things inside the camp. If the General has questions, she can ask His Majesty herself when she gets there.”

She let out an awkward sound and left it at that.

It had to be said that the cut of the outfit was in the most ordinary style for training clothes — it was only the color that was strange. It wasn’t a deep russet, and it wasn’t a true red. It was something between scarlet and orange — a color that seemed like —

Xiao Nanhui felt a sudden warmth in the palm of her hand. There flashed before her the image of that person holding a vermillion judgment brush, writing a character on her palm.

It was the color of cinnabar.

“Lord Xiao, what are you thinking about?”

Lu Songping suddenly spoke, and she felt like someone caught doing something shameful — a sudden rush of awkwardness.

“I was thinking — thinking about this outfit —”

“I was asking about just now. In the tent.”

Xiao Nanhui paused, then realized he was asking why she had been standing there in a daze inside the tent.

She thought about it and decided that though Lu Songping’s behavior was not always easy to like, he was half of her own camp, so to speak. And there was a certain pent-up feeling in her chest right now, so she told him, in brief, what had passed between her and Ding Weixiang that morning.

Lu Songping was quiet for a moment after listening, then raised an eyebrow.

“Lord Ding Zhongwei truly said that?”

“Would I make it up?” Xiao Nanhui tightened the knot at her cuff in annoyance and pulled her hand wrap tighter. “Can’t you see he’s deliberately adding to my troubles? He knows I’ve taken on a thankless job, and he still keeps saying things like that —”

“Right General.” Lu Songping spoke up abruptly.

This was the first time he had addressed her by her official title. Xiao Nanhui stopped, and looked at him with suspicion.

But Lu Songping’s expression immediately softened, and he gave her a half-teasing grin: “General should know the saying — better cautious than careless, steady wins the race. Who knows? Lord Ding Zhongwei might actually be looking out for you.”

Lu Songping said this with a somewhat half-joking air, yet for some reason Xiao Nanhui found herself unable to tell how much of it was jest and how much was genuine.

Before she could keep puzzling over it, the ceremonial official ahead had already stopped, and he turned to look at her.

“Lord Xiao, the practice ground is just ahead. The surrounding guard has been arranged personally by Lord Lu, all fully in order — please go with a clear mind.”

What did “go with a clear mind” even mean?

Xiao Nanhui was very displeased with the ceremonial official’s choice of words, but found nothing to say in response. Lu Songping stood to one side and watched her with a look she couldn’t quite name in his eyes.

That discomfort she had felt on her body earlier grew stronger. She vigorously scratched her head, then stretched her limbs to redirect her attention. Having made up her mind, she stepped forward and walked toward the practice ground.

It was called a practice ground, but in truth the space was not large — evidently improvised for the Emperor’s use. The surrounding layout appeared casual, yet showed considerable thought: it had to allow the hidden sentinels to patrol the perimeter while leaving no blind spots where anyone could hide.

Her estimation of Lu Songping rose another notch. Her searching gaze moved to the center of the ground the next instant, where a person stood.

That person heard her footsteps and slowly turned around.

In that single instant, a gust of wind lifted grains of salty alkaline dust from the earth, stinging her eyes.

She knew who was before her — and yet somehow could not tell whether the one she was looking at was Zhongli Jing, or Su Wei.

Earlier, when Ding Weixiang had been impressing things upon her, she had even harbored something of a contrary impulse — to use this opportunity for her own purposes and give the Emperor a proper lesson in what martial arts truly were.

But that man had, in that single instant, made her abandon the thought entirely.

He had shed the habitually long, luxuriously tailored, languidly draped robes, and changed into a short outfit of raven-dark blue. His long hair was bound up, yet that face — too clear-featured and exquisitely refined — had not gained the slightest air of martial bearing. Instead, set against that somewhat rough fabric, it looked all the more fragile, like a jade statue of a deity that some ignorant villager had draped in a worn piece of cloth.

He was in sharp contrast to the raw, coarse earth beneath his feet.

And equally in sharp contrast to her — born from that same raw earth.

Xiao Nanhui suddenly found herself with a headache.

In the years when she had been sparring and roughhousing with all manner of rough characters in the army, the word “restraint” had simply not existed in her vocabulary. But now she had no choice but to think carefully about what that word meant.

In just that one moment of pause, Su Wei noticed her hesitation and raised his eyes to look at her. And for no discernible reason, a faint, shallow smile appeared on his face.

Xiao Nanhui’s headache instantly became difficulty breathing. She retreated half a step as though facing a great enemy.

He — what was he doing?

She had grown up surrounded by the hot-blooded, fierce men of the battlefield, and had never once imagined that a man could be like this.

Before, she could face ten thousand troops and fierce, desperate enemies without even a twitch of her brow — yet now, standing in the mild warmth of the afternoon sun, she felt her legs go somewhat soft.

The Emperor was absolutely doing it on purpose.

A man who on any ordinary day would barely even raise an eyebrow — let alone smile — was smiling at her now!

You think one smile and I’ll go easy on you?!

Xiao Nanhui’s heart churned. She lightly cleared her throat as cover, and put on a look of deliberate gravity: “If Your Majesty is ready, shall we begin?”

Su Wei slowly opened his arms wide. She saw the strand of prayer beads at his wrist — luminous and translucent — flash and shimmer in the sunlight, like the sun and the moon held in the mouth of a dragon of legend.

“We — are ready.”