“Could His Highness be angry…”

Zhao Yān knew how formidable Prince Su’s intelligence network was, so this time she didn’t borrow Shi Lan’s identity.

The Empress Dowager had given her a new palace token. After leaving Penglai Hall, she went directly to Kunning Palace.

Just past the hour of the rooster, lanterns enveloped the palace in an orange mist. A carriage departed from Changqing Gate and slowly stopped at the Jiafu Gate of the Eastern Palace.

Zhao Xuan lifted a corner of the carriage curtain, peering outside with some nervousness, and spoke to the young woman dressed as a palace maid beside her: “I can only take you this far.”

Zhao Yān pulled her sleeves together, rising to perform a constrained but sincere bow within the not-so-spacious carriage.

“Fourth Sister risking herself to cover for me and escorting me this far—I am already immensely grateful.”

The young woman’s voice was soft yet firm, quite different from the androgynous huskiness when she had been the Crown Prince.

Zhao Xuan listened attentively, stood up to return a woman’s courtesy bow, and said gently: “Sister and the Empress have helped me greatly, aiding me in escaping from a sea of suffering. Today’s matter is merely repaying a fraction of their profound kindness.”

“We are family; there’s no need to speak of kindness. Fourth Sister should go to Aunt’s home for a brief visit before returning to the palace. I fear Vice General Zhang is too straightforward and might offend you in his urgency.”

With that, Zhao Yān pulled the hooded cloak over her head, lifted the carriage curtain, and jumped down.

…

…

Zhao Xuan hurriedly lifted the curtain, watching as she walked into the night, entering the firelight of Jiafu Tower.

Liu Baiwei had already exchanged intelligence with Gu Xing.

Being clever, he guessed that if Zhao Yān were to take action, the only forces she could barely mobilize would be these two thousand Eastern Palace Guards. He was prepared to risk himself and was waiting with Gu Xing at the foot of Jiafu Tower when they saw a blue-robed little palace maid approaching with her head lowered. He raised his lantern for a better look.

Confirming it was Zhao Yān, Liu Baiwei was both surprised and delighted. He stepped forward quickly but kept his voice very low: “How did you come alone? Did the Empress Dowager permit you to leave the palace?”

“Grandmother deeply understands righteousness. She absolutely would not allow rebels to use her dead son to commit treasonous acts that would leave an eternal stain. Both publicly and privately, she wouldn’t stop me.”

Zhao Yān looked up, pulling her hood upward to reveal a pair of clear, translucent eyes.

“If I don’t come, how will you deploy troops? A royal family member ‘colluding’ with the Eastern Palace Guards, leaving the city without an imperial decree—that’s a capital offense. Besides, do you know which route to take for the rescue?”

Liu Baiwei was speechless.

Zhao Yān smiled, returning to the main topic: “What’s the situation outside now?”

“The enemy smuggled weapons via the Luo River transport, disguised as refugees, suddenly attacked, breached several county outposts in succession, and let in tens of thousands of remaining rebels, surrounding Yuquan Palace in a siege formation.”

Gu Xing stepped forward to report, “The Left General led the Xiaoqi cavalry out of the city to rescue His Majesty, but the enemy holds advantageous terrain. The cavalry has been unable to break through the defensive line. If this continues, Yuquan Palace will be in grave danger.”

“I’ve been to Yuquan Palace and know of a secret passage. As long as we can hold out until reinforcements arrive the day after tomorrow, the crisis can be resolved. But I need manpower.”

Zhao Yān spoke seriously, looking toward Gu Xing and the two deputy commanders behind him. “Are you willing to fight alongside me?”

These words didn’t express any grand, impassioned sentiments but were gentle and calm, like a request made from an equal standing.

These three men had accompanied Zhao Yān in pursuing Zhao Yuan’yu last year. Hearing her words, they didn’t hesitate for even a moment, all kneeling with clasped hands, saying in unison: “We are willing to go through fire and water for Your Highness.”

Willing to go through fire and water for Your Highness—last year at the Liu family mourning hall, facing Zhao Yuan’yu’s encirclement, they had answered the same way.

Except last year, they were facing “Crown Prince Zhao Yǎn,” while now they were following her, Zhao Yān.

Zhao Yān extended her hand to gesture for them to rise, “Not for me, but for the righteousness in your hearts. Once the crisis is over, I will report your loyalty to the court and request rewards for you.”

“And what about you?”

Liu Baiwei swallowed, his throat dry, his expression complex. “You’re already in a precarious position. Taking this responsibility upon yourself—those you save may not thank you but may fear you instead.”

“I’m not doing it for him either. I’ve always acted according to my wishes. Some things only I can do, so I do them. You wouldn’t want to see Yuquan Palace covered in corpses, wouldn’t want to see the Great Xuan become a puppet under Northern Wu’s manipulation, would you?”

Liu Baiwei opened his mouth but couldn’t say anything.

“I’ll accompany Your Highness,” he said, loosely clenching his fist.

“A clever person like you should stand in a more important position.”

“By your side is the most important position!”

Liu Baiwei blurted out, then slumped against the palace wall, turning his head to the side in annoyance, “Why must you force me to say it out loud?”

Zhao Yān was stunned for a moment but didn’t expose the young man’s current embarrassment.

“Listen to me. The rebels are pressing toward the capital, and attacking minds is paramount. Perhaps in two days, rumors will spread that ‘the Emperor is dead, a new ruler should be enthroned.’ Without a steadying force in the imperial city, what panic would the common people fall into? Once military morale is disrupted and fires break out in the rear, even with a hundred thousand mighty lions, I couldn’t save the situation, which is exactly what the rebels want.”

The cool night breeze stirred ripples at the hem of her skirt as she stepped forward. “Only if the capital remains stable can I be without worries. If you stay here, your brush and ink can dispel rumors, calm fears, and call the common people to resistance. I’ve said before, you are my backup plan.”

Her thoughts were clear, her eyes full of trust.

By comparison, Liu Baiwei felt his personal feelings were childishly impulsive.

He lowered his head, the ribbon at the back of his head fluttering. After a while, he raised his head again and said, “Alright.”

Zhao Yān responded with a smile, no longer hesitating, and instructed Gu Xing: “Gather the troops immediately and leave through the North Gate. Oh, are the Crown Prince’s clothes still available? I need a Hu-style outfit suitable for riding and archery.”

Entering the Eastern Palace again, every blade of grass and tree was familiar, but Zhao Yān had no time for nostalgia.

She went straight to what had once been her bedchamber. It had been cleaned and organized, much emptier than before, but most of the clothes she had left were still there.

She chose a durable apricot-colored sleeve-binding military uniform, put on leather boots, fastened her wristguards tightly, cinched a leather belt that outlined her slender waist, and hung Zhao Yǎn’s short dagger. She took a matching hair ribbon from nearby and held it between her lips, then gathered her silk-like flowing long hair to the top of her head, tied it into a neat male topknot, secured it with wooden hairpins, tightened the ribbon, and turned to leave.

Outside the palace gate, torches blazed, and Gu Xing led two thousand Eastern Palace Guards lined up in formation.

Shadows danced, and apart from the sound of burning torches, there was a solemn silence.

“I am Princess Changfeng, Zhao Yān. Today, as one awaiting punishment, I request your help to save Yuquan Palace from danger.”

As she spoke, Zhao Yān clasped her hands in a salute, earnestly saying, “On behalf of the world, I thank you all in advance.”

Fearing they might alert others, the Eastern Palace Guards dared not speak loudly. After a rustle of armor, the two thousand men gradually knelt on one knee, cupping their hands in return salutes.

“And us as well.”

A clear voice stopped the carriage. Huo Zhenzhen lifted the curtain and jumped down, followed by Pei Sa in silver armor and Zhang Xu driving the carriage.

“Huo Zhenzhen, Young Master Pei.”

Zhao Yān was surprised to see nearly a thousand guards arriving in orderly fashion behind the two, then looked toward Zhang Xu. “Why has Imperial Physician Zhang come as well?”

The young, detached imperial physician lowered his eyelids and said, “Yuquan Palace has suffered heavy casualties and desperately needs medical personnel. This humble subject has brought some medicine for wounds, which should prove useful.”

“Let’s bring him. Every life saved counts.”

Huo Zhenzhen rarely maintained such a serious face, solemnly saying, “Mother received the Empress Dowager’s edict and is also worried about Yuquan Palace. The Princess of Changle’s residence has only five hundred guards, but they are all exceptional fighters. We hope to lend you a helping hand… Shuangjian!”

The leader named “Shuangjian” stepped forward at her call, clasping hands in salute.

In the torchlight, her willow eyebrows and phoenix eyes revealed a valiant, spirited woman in her twenties.

Looking more carefully, nearly half of the Princess of Changle’s guards were young female soldiers. Zhao Yān had heard that her aunt, Princess Shoukang of Changle, enjoyed riding and archery, and even her attending maids were trained in martial arts—clearly her reputation was well-deserved.

“I entrust Shuangjian and the others to you.”

Huo Zhenzhen said, wanting to say more but only managing to squeeze out a fierce, trembling sentence: “You all better come back safely, you hear me!”

Pei Sa, though recently recovered from a serious injury, lacked blood in his complexion, but his voice was sharp without a trace of weakness: “The three hundred guards of the Marquis of Jinping’s mansion are at Your Highness’s command.”

“Good.”

Zhao Yān felt a warmth in her heart, suppressing the acidity in her throat as she instructed the guards from the Marquis of Jinping and the Princess of Changle: “All of you, tie a strip of coarse cloth on your arms. Form into units of fifty, each selecting a captain. The captains are responsible for keeping track of their members to prevent confusion.”

This rescue force was hastily assembled, with people who didn’t know each other. To prevent enemy infiltration or friendly fire, Zhao Yān had to be cautious.

The troops were quickly reorganized, more disciplined than before.

Zhao Yān leaped onto her horse, one hand controlling the reins, the other raising a clenched fist: “Move out!”

Gu Xing followed on horseback, but saw Shuangjian overtake him, taking the lead position with a sidelong glance that carried considerable pride.

Pei Sa led his troops close behind, then turned back in his saddle to look at the carriage stopped by the road.

Zhao Xuan, in a plain dress fluttering in the wind, stood somewhat awkwardly by the carriage, her quiet gaze passing over the ranks toward Pei Sa, cautious and hesitant.

Pei Sa seemed to understand something. With one hand, he detached the jade pendant from his waist, lightly kissed it, then accurately tossed it to the person by the carriage.

Zhao Xuan, forgetting even the etiquette ingrained in her bones, fumbled to catch the flying jade pendant, gripping it tightly against her chest.

The smooth jade, seeming to still retain the warmth from the young military leader’s lips, was his silent promise.

She unconsciously walked forward a few steps until the sound of hoofbeats faded away and the winding formation disappeared at the end of the road.

The city gates stood tall and imposing. The doors of residences in the districts were tightly shut, with only the night watchman trembling as he made his rounds, his wooden clapper sounding more urgent and shrill than usual.

“Who goes there? Halt immediately!”

The gate captain drew his sword, standing behind a barricade as he warily watched the approaching armored force.

Gu Xing and Pei Sa stepped forward, presenting their tokens: “Eastern Palace Guards and the Marquis of Jinping’s household, under the Empress Dowager’s edict, are leaving the city to provide aid. Please let us through immediately.”

The gate captain hesitated: “Rebels are entrenched outside the gates, watching like tigers. Letting you through now would be like inviting wolves into the house. Please return quickly!”

“Let them through!”

Two riders galloped up—it was Ministry of War Secretary Cen Meng and a slender youth in martial robes.

“This…”

“The Emperor is still fighting desperately in blood. The matter is of utmost importance and cannot be delayed. If there’s any accountability later, my Ministry of War will bear it!”

Cen Meng reined in his horse and said in a deep voice, “Remove the barricades!”

Only then did the gate captain run forward to move aside the heavy barricades that resembled protruding sharp blades.

“Secretary Cen.” Zhao Yān rode forward, looking at this man who had always repaid kindness with his life.

Cen Meng saluted from horseback, his voice choked as he called out: “Your Highness…”

“Your Highness!”

Another clear, crisp female voice came. Zhao Yān turned to look beside Cen Meng, realizing that the person he had brought wasn’t a young attendant at all, but his sister Cen Yu.

Not having seen her for nearly a year, the young woman had grown graceful and elegant, with her ponytail tied high, a quiver at her waist, and a longbow on her back—her heroic spirit surpassing that of men.

“I almost didn’t recognize you. You look truly spirited this way,” Zhao Yān praised.

“If not for Your Highness’s guidance, I would never have set foot on the path I’ve long yearned for. Learning that Your Highness is female has only increased my respect. I also want to do what I can for the common people, just like Your Highness.”

As she spoke, Cen Yu removed her beloved bow and quiver, rode alongside Zhao Yān, and respectfully presented them with both hands. “I will stay behind with my brother to guard the city. I gift this set of arrows to Your Highness, may it protect Your Highness for a safe, triumphant return!”

Zhao Yān accepted this weighty gift, twirled the light bow in her hand, and placed it on her arm, saying: “Thank you.”

“Your Highness, proceed forward. We will cover for you.”

Cen Meng said, then turned his horse around and shouted, “Open the city gates! Cover the rescue forces as they leave the city!”

The heavy city gates opened with a creak, and the cool early spring night wind suddenly poured in, tearing at everyone’s robes.

Zhao Yān steadied herself, raised her whip, and three thousand troops surged forth like a dragon emerging from the abyss, straight into the depths of night.

To prevent the rescue forces from interfering with their plans, the rebels had blocked all routes to Yuquan Palace. Cen Meng and the gate captain led two hundred men as escorts. Arrows flew chaotically, swords clashed, and the cold gleam of blades cut through the chill of night.

Shuangjian drew her sword to cut down a rebel blocking the way, but failed to notice a cold arrow coming from behind.

Gu Xing stepped forward, slicing the arrow with one stroke. Shuangjian, with good coordination, turned to stab an approaching bandit, wiping the blood that had splattered on her chin, and said: “Thank you.”

Gu Xing remained silent, riding alongside her to break through the encirclement.

Pei Sa took it upon himself to protect the unarmed Zhang Xu. Zhao Yān led the troops through the checkpoint, hearing only the howling wind and the sound of arrows cutting through the air.

Whenever enemy troops caught up, they were always cut down by Cen Meng and his men providing cover, ensuring a smooth passage.

But the rebels held the advantage of terrain and pursued relentlessly.

Amid this deadlock, the rebels hiding in the woods suddenly erupted in agonizing wails, as if attacked by something terrifying.

Zhao Yān drew her bow to wound an enemy, gripping her bow and arrow as she turned on horseback to look. A tall figure emerged from the woods, a heavy stench of blood permeating the air, irritating people’s throats.

Zhao Yān recognized those hawk-like, indifferent eyes—it was Chou Zui.

He still wore that tattered martial robe whose original color was indiscernible, his bamboo hat pulled low. The torchlight made his face, with old scars layered upon new ones, look as terrifying as a demon. Yet his martial skills were ruthless and reliable; wherever his curved blade went, enemy troops fell like dominoes.

Chou Zui seized a horse, leaped onto it, finished off the remaining rebels, and caught up with Zhao Yān.

Zhao Yān didn’t ask why he had appeared here, only saying from her bouncing saddle: “I don’t need your protection. Stay behind and cover our retreat.”

She spoke too hastily, inhaling a breath of cold air tainted with the smell of blood, causing her internal organs to churn.

Chou Zui understood, turning his horse around to ride to the end of the formation, standing in the middle of the road with his curved blade in hand.

Under the pale moonlight and frost, a demon guarded the road, staring indifferently at the ambushing rebels as if they were insignificant insects or carrion.

Wails echoed through the forest, and the dark puddles dyed the reflected moon a piercing red.

Seeing that the rescue forces had successfully escaped the enemy and were heading toward Yuquan Palace, Cen Meng heaved a sigh of relief, leading the gate captain and others back to the city.

The city gates closed once more, and moonlight poured down from the clouds, illuminating a path of arrow shafts and broken blades.

Prince Su’s residence.

Zhang Cang knelt in the outer chamber, head lowered, recounting in detail the events of “Princess Changfeng’s escape.”

Behind the screen, a silent figure let out two very soft coughs of laughter.

What… why is he laughing? Could His Highness be confused by anger?

Zhang Cang felt a shudder in his heart and glanced secretly at Cai Tian. Cai Tian shook his head, signaling him not to say more.

Zhang Cang misunderstood, thinking Cai Tian meant there was no hope for him. He sighed, “Alas,” drew his sword, and said, “This lowly one has failed His Highness’s important mission and has no face to remain here. Today I will cut myself once, begging His Highness to spare my life temporarily, allowing this servant to redeem his crimes with merit!”

With that, he gritted his teeth and raised his sword to cut his arm.

“You…”

Cai Tian was astonished by his colleague’s simple yet strange donkey brain and tried to stop him, but a long, powerful hand gripped Zhang Cang’s wrist first.

Though Zhang Cang was burly and strong enough to lift an enormous cauldron, he now found himself unable to exert any strength against this seemingly casual grip.

His wrist went numb, and his sword fell into that cold, white palm.

Before him was the hem of a snow-white robe, carrying the bitter fragrance of medicinal baths. Seeing this, Zhang Cang was deeply moved, his tiger eyes filling with tears: “Your Highness…”

He knew it—His Highness valued him and couldn’t bear to lose him!

“Enough. She was trained by this prince. Even palace walls cannot confine her, let alone someone like you. This prince simply didn’t expect it to happen so quickly.”

Wenren Lin twirled the sword in his hand, then pushed it back with a clanging sound into Zhang Cang’s scabbard.

Zhang Cang looked at his returned sword, pondering: Judging by His Highness’s tone, he seemed rather proud.

While Zhang Cang was uncertain, Wenren Lin had already put on his outer robe.

He fastened his belt, fingering the dark iron ring on his index finger, and ordered: “Assemble the Eagle Riders and await orders.”

Two abrupt coughs came from the courtyard.

Physician Sun stood in the lamplight, his face stern: “Are you still going to take care of your health?”

“Yes, this prince will just go out for some fresh air and return. With my beloved charging to the front, how could this prince stay comfortably behind?”

This situation at Yuquan Palace—he had to intervene. Not witnessing his enemy’s suffering firsthand would be too regrettable. He had ordered people to watch over Zhao Yān because he didn’t want her to see his dirty side and be caught in a dilemma.

By now, he feared he would disappoint the little princess. The world remained dirty and chaotic, and he still couldn’t be a loyal minister or a great general.

Wenren Lin smiled, adding gently: “I almost forgot, you old man have never married and have no beloved, so you probably don’t understand the bittersweet pleasure in this prince’s heart.”

“…”

Physician Sun was truly quite angry.

Hmph, this brat!

If this old man didn’t have someone dear to his heart, why would he willingly stay and waste effort on the child of an old friend?