Early in the morning, Xiao Yu’s delighted voice rang through the courtyard: “Miss, it’s snowing!”

A’Luo walked out from her room, hair loose, wearing a long robe. Sure enough—the nearby hillside dwellings were blanketed in silvery white, patches of green struggling up through the snow, dark eaves and roof corners peeking through, light snow drifting gently down. What did all this resemble? An ink-wash painting, perhaps, A’Luo thought, sighing with a smile. What a beautiful city Linnan was.

“Miss, aren’t you afraid of catching cold!” Xiao Yu brushed the fine snow off A’Luo’s shoulders and draped a cloak over her, scolding with concern. A’Luo watched Xiao Yu’s fussing and smiled. “Shall we go for a walk up the mountain?”

“But Miss, you haven’t washed your face or done your hair yet,” Xiao Yu said, a little anxious.

“What does that matter—you’ve washed and done your hair, let’s go!” A’Luo laughed, shaking her head. Reforming Xiao Yu had only been half-successful; some deeply rooted ideas here simply couldn’t be changed.

On the mountain path in the early morning, they occasionally passed a woodcutter or mountain villager carrying firewood or charcoal into the city. From the dwellings among the trees, an occasional dog’s bark could be heard. Rounding a bend in the path, they heard the clear sound of a mountain spring. A’Luo led Xiao Yu carefully across it; from here, Changle Tavern below was fully visible, and they could clearly see Nanny Zhang keeping Seventh Madam company in the courtyard, admiring the snow. Wisps of smoke rose from the front courtyard, giving the ink-wash scene a touch of life.

A’Luo crouched down, pressing her palm to crack the thin ice, and scooped up a handful of clear spring water to wash her face. The cold made her shiver, but it also felt wonderfully refreshing—her whole body tingled with alertness. She slowly straightened, breathed deeply, and stretched. Xiao Yu watched, entranced. “Miss, you look this good even without washing your face.” A’Luo laughed, a string of clear, bright laughter ringing out.

On the hillside among the trees, Liu Jue sat silently on horseback, dressed in black, his robe loose. Behind him, several members of the Black Cloud Cavalry stood equally silent. Liu Ying looked ahead. The Third Young Miss had indeed changed. Once petite and delicate, today she carried herself with vivid, radiant grace. He sighed inwardly—no wonder his lord couldn’t forget her.

He glanced stealthily at Liu Jue. Liu Jue’s lips were pressed tight, his entire body seemingly turned to stone, expressionless. Liu Ying sighed inwardly again. Riding up the mountain at dawn, they’d been here nearly two hours already. Not speaking, just watching like this—what did it mean? Clearly wanting her so desperately, yet refusing to go see her.

Liu Jue remained still as a deep, quiet pool, though complex emotions flickered within his eyes. Since A’Luo had left, he’d asked himself more than once—what exactly was he angry about? Thinking of A’Luo not wanting him, his heart ached until he could have strangled her. Thinking of being together with her, even times when she’d angered him, left him tangled with tenderness, a faint bittersweet ache. Three days after being named Pingnan General, before heading south, he’d ridden to Princess Huguo’s private estate, spending an entire day in the peach blossom valley. Late summer, the valley grass still green, though the flowers had stopped blooming. Overwhelmed by the heat, he’d simply lain down in the stream, the cool water washing over him, and thought with bitter amusement—if he hadn’t wandered here that day and let A’Luo tumble into the water, none of this entanglement would have followed.

He’d gone to the Chancellor’s residence, and Chancellor Li had taken him to Tang Garden. The crabapple tree in the courtyard shaded the whole space. Chancellor Li had said Tang Garden remained unchanged, waiting for him to bring back A’Luo and Seventh Madam. He’d thought of A’Luo on the pleasure boat, eating meat but refusing vegetables, then looked again at the quiet, austere garden. Chancellor Li’s tears had nearly driven him to explode. If not for the household environment’s influence, how could A’Luo have done something so bold. Even if she hadn’t wanted to marry him, there was no need to take her mother and maid and flee entirely! Thinking of the poem A’Luo had composed at age six, Liu Jue felt a deep ache—what could drive a six-year-old child to write such lines!

At the time, it had been announced throughout the kingdom that she’d been abducted, and he himself had almost come to believe it. All his fury and grief had been unleashed upon the bandits. Unexpectedly, this had won him the respect of the Southern Army’s soldiers. Bringing the Southern Army under control had taken tremendous effort—purging the old Wang family faction wasn’t easy. He’d had to become more guarded, more careful, planning thoroughly before acting. Now, with A’Luo arrived in Linnan, Liu Jue thought that the old him would have already stepped forward to intercept her the moment she entered the city. Now, though—what he wanted was this: if he asked her again whether she would stand with him through life and death, she would answer without hesitation, giving him the answer he wanted.

Liu Jue watched A’Luo quietly in the distance, her graceful figure wrapped in the loose robe, her long unbound hair falling to her waist. Standing by the spring amid the white snow, she looked effortlessly elegant, her smile radiant. Three years had truly changed her considerably—her face had filled out, lost its former baby fat, her chin now more defined, and though tanned, she looked all the more healthy and full of life. Those eyes hadn’t changed, still clear as spring water, crystalline. Every glance, every smile, brimmed with charm.

He should have been angry, should have given her a proper scolding, yet now his heart and mind were entirely captured by the figure on the slope, wanting only to watch her a little longer, seeing her this happy. A wave of tenderness crept into his gaze, lingering, delicate threads spreading from his still, silent frame. The Black Cloud Cavalry behind him sensed it too, unconsciously relaxing.

That clear laughter drifted over, like a bird singing sweetly among the trees, like mountain spring water striking against broken ice, fragmenting delicately. It scattered softly away in the morning mountain air. Did she feel no guilt at all? No concern whatsoever? Vanished for years, living freely and happily this whole time—yet it had sent everyone searching in chaos. Anger rose naturally within him. Liu Jue gave a cold snort, seated upright on his horse, a chilling, murderous air settling over the grove. His eyes grew colder still. His mount grew uneasy beneath him, hooves shifting. He nearly urged the horse forward; the hand gripping the reins tightened until veins stood out from the strain.

Suddenly, a plume of black smoke rose from the direction of the city’s south side. Liu Jue’s brow furrowed—had Chen Guo’s navy launched an attack? He glanced once at A’Luo, who was also looking toward the smoke rising over the city, and without a word, turned his horse and headed down the mountain, the Black Cloud Cavalry following silently behind.

The black smoke hung suspended in the air for a long while before dispersing, and the sound of a bell rang out, urgent and repeated. Xiao Yu cried out in alarm: “What’s happened?” With the bell’s tolling, crowds of people poured out from the dwellings scattered through the mountain forest, every face tense.

A’Luo said gravely, “Let’s talk once we’re back.”

The two returned to the tavern, where Nanny Zhang rushed out anxiously to meet them: “Miss, you’re finally back—please, don’t go out again, the two kingdoms are at war!”

A’Luo and Seventh Madam and Xiao Yu exchanged startled glances. Seventh Madam asked urgently, “Haven’t the two kingdoms been at peace for decades? How could this happen so suddenly, out of nowhere?”

Seeing that Nanny Zhang didn’t know either, A’Luo said, “I’ll go into the city to find out what’s happening. Xiao Yu, stay with Mother and Nanny Zhang, close up the shop, and don’t wander off.”

Seventh Madam refused. “Take Xiao Yu with you. We’ll stay right here, we won’t go anywhere—how could I possibly feel at ease with you going alone!”

Xiao Yu, too, insisted firmly. A’Luo had no choice but to quickly change robes and head into the city with Xiao Yu.

Inside Linnan City, the shops hadn’t closed; the streets were crowded with anxious people trying to gather information. The city gates had already been shut. A’Luo grabbed hold of a passerby and asked, “What’s happened out there?”

“I heard Chen Guo’s navy has attacked! General Gu has already assembled the fleet to meet them!”

“Where can we see the situation on the river?”

“The western cliffs, probably. Lots of people have headed there.”

A’Luo and Xiao Yu asked for directions and rushed toward the western cliffs.

Liu Jue went straight to the city gate tower. The Linnan garrison commander hurried forward to report: “General! All four gates are sealed. Chen Guo’s navy came well-prepared—they launched their attack suddenly this morning. Our scouts, swimming back to shore, were already dead by the time they were found, killed by arrows. By the time the watch spotted them, the Chen forces had already crossed the river’s midpoint.”

“Behead him!” Liu Jue said flatly.

The garrison commander froze for a moment. A soldier had already gone to carry out the order; within a quarter hour, the watch sentry’s severed head had been brought back in report. The garrison commander broke out in a cold sweat. How could this Pingnan General order an execution so casually, without so much as a flicker of his brow?

Liu Jue’s gaze swept across the soldiers atop the city wall, and he called out loudly: “Ning and Chen have not fought in decades—our border has been peaceful, trade flourishing. Today they dare invade our Linnan, coveting our great rivers and mountains—such wolfish ambition will surely meet heaven’s punishment! We’ve trained our troops for a thousand days precisely for this moment! Sacrificing ourselves to defend our nation, achieving glory through merit—this is the ambition of every true man among us!”

The soldiers responded in a thunderous roar: “We will follow the General to defend Linnan and crush the Chen army!”

Liu Jue decisively issued orders to the Linnan garrison commander and city officials, placing the entire city under military control, to calm and reassure merchants and civilians. A string of commands fired rapidly from his mouth. Seeing their commander so calm and decisive, everyone’s confidence surged, and each went to carry out their assigned duties without delay.

Liu Jue stood atop the city wall, gazing out at the river. The Chen navy was intercepted by Ning forces when still over fifty zhang from Linnan City; fire arrows flew through the air, and some ships had already closed in close enough for boarding combat. Shouts of battle shook the river, thick smoke rising on all sides. Liu Jue assessed the situation—the Southern Navy had responded too late; though more ships continued streaming out from the naval camp, their formation remained less disciplined than the enemy’s.

Just then, a great drum thundered across the water. Looking closely, Liu Jue saw Gu Tianxiang, clad in white battle armor, standing atop a tower ship charging toward the Chen fleet, his escort vessels arranged in a wedge formation before and beside him, driving straight at the Chen central command ship. The drum beat, deep and unhurried, yet its resonant sound was soul-stirring, radiating waves of martial intensity.

Gu Tianxiang was furious. Since before the new year, he’d known Chen’s forces were stirring, showing signs of troop movement, and despite watching day and night, the enemy had still managed a surprise attack, closing to such proximity to Linnan City before he could array his formation to meet them. He kicked aside the drummer and personally took up the beat, rallying morale himself. As the ships closed to within arrow range, the central command flag swept down, signal flags flashed, and dense volleys of fire arrows launched. Both sides engaged in close combat.

Roused by the drumbeat, the naval soldiers fought with renewed vigor. Liu Jue, watching clearly from the city wall, saw that Chen’s forces had come well-prepared, managing to build a navy comparable in strength to Ning’s despite Chen’s overall power. Combined with the surprise of the attack, their own navy was clearly at a disadvantage. He watched as Gu Tianxiang stopped drumming, taking command directly. Except for his own squadron, which still held formation, the left and right flanks had already been breached, their lines threatening to collapse entirely.

Liu Jue drew breath and shouted mightily: “Tianxiang, spread your wings!” This single call, powered by his internal energy, reached Gu Tianxiang a hundred paces away, who started, a flash of a smile crossing his eyes, and personally seized the signal flag from the flag-bearer to relay the command.

On the city wall, Liu Jue spread both arms wide, and immediately after, urgent, rapid drumbeats sounded out, bold and stirring, each beat more intense than the last. Far up on the western hillside, the watching civilians felt tears of excitement well up; A’Luo felt her whole body’s blood stirred awake by the drumming, gazing far off at the gate tower, glimpsing indistinctly a black-robed figure moving with the majesty of a dragon soaring through the nine heavens. Her heart trembled—was that Liu Jue?

At this point, under Gu Tianxiang’s signal flag commands, the Southern Navy’s warships suddenly parted to both sides, no longer engaging directly, and the Chen fleet closed another twenty-some zhang toward shore. The drumbeat, like an eternal pulse of life, surged vigorous and unceasing. The Southern Army displayed a composed, magnanimous bearing, its formation rapidly reorganizing. The sounds of battle were entirely swallowed by the drumming.

Seeing the Southern forces swiftly reform their formation, and the city gate tower drawing nearer, the Chen central command flashed signal flags ordering a rapid retreat. The soldiers were momentarily confused. Then, from atop the city tower, a clear, sharp cry rang out: “There’s no going back now!”

Liu Jue threw down the drumstick and raised his hand; from the city wall’s crenellations, a dense volley of arrows flew out, dark and furious as an enraged black dragon, streaking straight toward the Chen ships. On both flanks, the Southern Navy’s warships, like beating wings, began their counterattack. The Chen vanguard, now turned rear guard, scrambled to retreat to the opposite shore; a portion of ships trapped within the encirclement, unable to withdraw in time, rushed instead toward the shore, and as they closed to within ten zhang, catapults atop the walls hurled stones down, smashing the ships’ hulls to splinters. The Southern Army’s ranks erupted in thunderous cheers.

This engagement brought losses to both sides, roughly equal in casualties—but the Southern Army had won the morale-boosting victory of the opening battle!