When Li Shuang awoke, she found Qin Lan keeping watch by her bedside, his appearance showing traces of weariness.
Seeing her eyes open, Qin Lan’s expression shifted. “General,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse.
Li Shuang gave him a bleary glance before closing her eyes again, furrowing her brow as confused scenes swirled in her mind. “Where am I…” She raised a weak hand to massage her temples.
As her brain pieced together the fragmented memories, Qin Lan had already anxiously summoned the military physician. Officers flooded into the room until the physician arrived and shooed away these burly men, finally allowing Li Shuang’s world to brighten again.
The officers were all talking at once, their voices indistinct to Li Shuang as her temples throbbed with pain. Qin Lan’s bark cut through the noise: “Everyone out!”
Though somewhat reluctant, the officers obeyed, leaving only the military physician who frowned as he checked Li Shuang’s pulse. “General’s body is no longer in danger. A few days of recovery should suffice.” The physician shook his head. “These symptoms are peculiar though—five days and nights of unconsciousness without food or water, yet upon waking, you’re merely qi-deficient. General, you truly have heaven’s blessing.”
Li Shuang didn’t believe in heavenly blessings. She caught on to one detail: “…five days and nights?” Her voice was barely audible, even at close range. She struggled to sit up, forcing herself to speak louder. “I was unconscious for five days?”
The physician nodded. “More than five days.”
Li Shuang froze. Qin Lan stood nearby, deeply worried, reaching out to support her but hesitating to touch. “General, you’ve just awakened, please don’t—”
“Where is the man in black armor?” Li Shuang turned to ask Qin Lan. “Where is he?”
Qin Lan’s unfinished words caught in his throat. After a moment’s silence under Li Shuang’s gaze, he lowered his eyelids, concealing his expression. “General, five days ago, when we climbed down into that stone cave, we only found you unconscious on the ground, covered with ermine fur. There was no sign of anyone else.”
He wasn’t there…
Li Shuang’s heart inexplicably skipped a beat.
She remembered—he had rescued her from the mud, drunk the potion for her sake, and then… had been taken away by that man called Wu Yin.
What would Wu Yin do to him? Use him, or… kill him?
At this thought, Li Shuang suddenly felt restless. “We must investigate.” She tried to get out of bed, but the physician immediately steadied her. Sure enough, as soon as she stood, dizziness overwhelmed her, and she sat back down without anyone having to stop her.
“General, you’ve been unconscious for five days and just woke up. Your qi is severely depleted—you mustn’t move carelessly.”
“What does the General wish to investigate?” Qin Lan asked gravely. “This humble officer will thoroughly investigate on your behalf.”
Li Shuang sat back, rubbing her temples. As her initial agitation subsided, she regained her characteristic composure and coolness. “Where is Jin’an?” she asked. “Bring him to me. I have questions for him.”
Another silence fell over Qin Lan.
Li Shuang turned to look at him. “What is it?”
“The soldier Jin’an… disappeared from the military camp five days ago,” Qin Lan said solemnly. “There’s been no trace of him since.”
Jin’an… was gone too?
Li Shuang was stunned. “Have people searched outside the camp?”
“We’ve searched inside and outside Lu City, including the trapped forest and underground chamber from that day. No sign of Jin’an.” Qin Lan paused. “General, Jin’an is no ordinary youth. His background is mysterious, his martial arts formidable. His silent disappearance from camp couldn’t have been an abduction—any resistance would have caused a disturbance. The fact that no one in the camp noticed his absence suggests he left of his own accord.”
If Jin’an left voluntarily, where would he go? Could he have secretly followed Wu Yin’s group, attempting to rescue the mysterious man?
Given Jin’an’s connection to the mysterious man, as evidenced by their secret communications, this wasn’t impossible. However…
No matter how Li Shuang considered it, something felt amiss, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. Nevertheless: “This matter must be investigated. Those who set the trap in that chamber intended harm to the Eastern Palace—a capital offense. We must find them. As long as they’re within Great Jin’s borders, they cannot be allowed to leave alive.”
Qin Lan responded quietly: “Yes.”
“Wait.” Li Shuang called him back. “Have people investigate southward. Pay attention to any news related to gu.”
Qin Lan was startled. “Gu sorcery?”
“Yes. Gu sorcery. Find out if any martial arts sect can turn people into gu-people.”
Qin Lan nodded, saluted, and withdrew.
Li Shuang watched him leave, her eyes determined as she silently resolved to rescue the man in black armor. Her fist clenched unconsciously. Since their first encounter, he had maintained his air of mystery.
His movements were enigmatic, yet every appearance had been to save her from danger.
From their first meeting in the northern bandits’ den to his life-risking protection in the muddy underground chamber, he had always given his all to protect her.
Even when she had nearly become his enemy while defending the Crown Prince…
Li Shuang’s gaze lowered, and she finally noticed the bandage on her arm, which still ached slightly when raised. She knew it covered the wound Wu Yin had left.
Seeing her arm reminded her of the Crown Prince, who had used her as a stepping stone to escape the muddy swamp at her insistence.
“How fares the Eastern Palace now?”
The physician, who had been writing a prescription, turned to answer: “The Crown Prince returned unharmed, but departed for the capital three days ago.”
Li Shuang started. “His Highness returned to the capital?” She frowned, instinctively sensing something amiss. “Has something happened in the capital?”
The physician sighed, nodding as his eyes filled with gravity when meeting hers: “General, His Majesty’s health has been declining for some time.”
Imperial power—all of Great Jin’s authority rested with one person. His crisis was the nation’s crisis; his illness was the nation’s illness. Even from the distant frontier, Great Jin’s subjects could feel the tremors of power from the empire’s center.
In the depths of winter, she hoped the capital’s power struggles wouldn’t affect the border situation, and wouldn’t draw waves of wolves to their gates.
Now they no longer had the black-armored man. Li Shuang’s fist tightened—this winter, they would have to endure alone.
Li Shuang remained silent, only able to pray that this time, Sima Yang would make it back in time, in time to ascend to his rightful position, rule as emperor, and maintain Great Jin’s stability, as well as the security of the General’s Manor.
She touched her arm, grateful that at least she had managed to save Sima Yang. Before matters of state and family, everything else seemed momentarily insignificant.