As dawn broke the following morning, a soldier came to inform Li Shuang that Chang Wanshan had awakened and wished to see her.
Sleepless through the night, Li Shuang had spent hours studying the paper stained with Chang Wanshan’s black blood. Though it contained only a few numbers, these rare clues seemed to conjure visions of the mysterious man who had been taken away, now a thousand miles distant. She could almost see his blood-red eyes from their hasty parting…
With a start, Li Shuang realized she missed him.
Learning of Chang Wanshan’s request, she immediately rose and made her way to the guards’ camp. As she arrived, the men saluted her. When Chang Wanshan attempted to get up, Li Shuang gently pressed his shoulder, saying, “No need for formalities.”
Without preamble, Chang Wanshan spoke: “General, the mysterious man you seek is in the Five Spirits Sect on South Long Mountain.”
Li Shuang nodded. “I’ve seen the note. Tell me everything that happened.”
Chang Wanshan’s eyes grew solemn as he steadied himself, clearly still shaken: “Three months ago, I followed those men south, sending messages to Lu City along the way. At South Long Mountain, I planned to scout the area and send word back. However, the Five Spirits Sect leader saw through my every move. Not a single message got through. In the end, I was captured by their leader, Wu Yin…”
His hand trembled slightly as he continued, “I’m ashamed to say Wu Yin’s martial arts far surpassed mine. After defeating me, instead of killing me, he imprisoned me in the mountain dungeon… alongside the mysterious black-armored man.”
Li Shuang started. “Why keep you together? How… how was he?”
Though desperate for more details about the man, Li Shuang restrained herself. It wouldn’t be fitting for a general to show such emotion before her weakened subordinate. So she waited, suppressing her feelings.
“The dungeon was so dark, I could barely see,” Chang Wanshan explained. “It was silent during the day. But each night, men came with torches. The mysterious man was chained to the wall, his neck and limbs spread. Every day they cut his chest. I don’t know why, but at first, he would occasionally regain consciousness and ask about you, General…”
Li Shuang’s heart quivered. He still remembered her.
“Later, he seemed to go mad,” Chang Wanshan continued. “He’d howl like a beast, alternating between silence and roars. It was terrifying.”
Li Shuang frowned, a dull ache in her heart.
“Eventually, Wu Yin came to the dungeon. He observed the man for days, using methods I didn’t understand. He drained his blood repeatedly, which only made the man more violent. He broke arm-thick iron chains several times. I could sense his desperate desire to escape.”
Though Chang Wanshan’s description wasn’t particularly detailed, Li Shuang could almost see the man’s struggles and agonized cries in the darkness. She could picture him gritting his teeth against the searing pain.
She closed her eyes briefly, remembering his warmth in that alley corner during the Lu City fireworks, the clarity and tenderness in his eyes…
He had been gentler with her than a spring breeze.
“As time passed, he showed no improvement,” Chang Wanshan went on. “He grew more frenzied each day. Eventually, Wu Yin seemed to give up. He casually ordered my disposal, saying I was no longer useful. I remember him saying, ‘The jade silkworm can no longer adapt to other hosts.'”
Li Shuang’s expression darkened. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard of the “jade silkworm.”
Chang Wanshan pointed to his chest. “They took me from the dungeon to cut open my heart, intending to feed me to some kind of insect. Fortunately, I had experience in the jianghu before enlisting and had taken precautions. This delayed the insects’ effects, allowing me to escape when the disciples were distracted.”
The other men looked uneasily at Chang Wanshan’s chest wound. These tough soldiers didn’t fear blades, but the mysterious southern insect techniques terrified them.
“After escaping South Long Mountain,” Chang Wanshan continued, “I found my faithful horse waiting. He knew the way home to the northern border. Believing I wouldn’t survive, I wrote the message. I never imagined you’d save this worthless life, General. I’m truly…”
Overcome with emotion, he tried to rise again, but Li Shuang firmly pressed him down.
“This southern mission wasn’t for the country, but a personal request from me,” she said. “You risked your life to help me. I should be thanking you. Your survival is my good fortune.”
“General, please don’t say that!” Chang Wanshan protested. “That mysterious black-armored man has helped our Great Jin many times. He’s a great benefactor to Lu City and our Changfeng Camp. He even protected you at your mansion. It was my duty to try to save him, both officially and personally. I only regret my skills weren’t enough…”
“Enough,” Li Shuang cut him off. She knew her guards were all loyal, upright men. They, like her, remembered the black-armored man’s deeds and the debt they owed him.
Chang Wanshan could claim his rescue attempt was driven by loyalty and gratitude. But for Li Shuang… all she could think of were those blood-red eyes staring intently at her—focused, gentle, passionate.
She simply wanted… to see that gaze upon her once more.
Li Shuang lowered her eyes, gathering her composure. When she looked up, her expression was impassive again. “Rest well,” she told Chang Wanshan. “I’ll handle things from here.”
Seeing Li Shuang’s familiar determined look, Chang Wanshan relaxed. “Yes, General.”
After instructing the medic to care for Chang Wanshan, Li Shuang strode out of the camp. At the gate, Qin Lan was preparing to depart with his deputy.
Before Qin Lan could salute, Li Shuang asked, “Is everything ready?”
Qin Lan hesitated. “Yes.”
“Give it to me. Change your clothes and stay to guard the camp.”
Qin Lan stared at her, seemingly unable to comprehend. “General?”
“I’m going to the capital myself,” Li Shuang declared. She grabbed a cloak from a nearby soldier, donned thick riding gloves, and swung easily into the saddle.
Her tone and manner were as casual as if she were just going on a routine patrol. But Qin Lan knew what returning to the capital and facing Sima Yang might mean for her.
The late spring wind still carried winter’s desolation, ruffling Li Shuang’s slightly dry hair and cloak. Qin Lan’s gaze remained fixed on her. “General, what do you mean by this?”
“I need to save someone, and I’ll likely need His Majesty’s help.”
Qin Lan paused. “General, you know that going to the capital means facing more than just the Western Rong invasion.”
There was also the constraint of imperial favor, the entanglement of court interests, and all the subtle, dark, unspoken desperation seeping from everyone’s very bones.
“I know,” Li Shuang answered decisively. “But there’s someone I want to save, no matter the cost.”
Qin Lan stared at Li Shuang, momentarily lost in thought. He had grown up alongside her, always aware of the unbridgeable gap between their stations. He could only ever be below, looking up at her from afar.
Yet Li Shuang had never seemed truly distant to him before. In his eyes, she had always been that legendary woman who devoted herself entirely to the General’s Mansion and Great Jin. But now, at this moment, Qin Lan felt an unprecedented distance from her.
The look in her eyes had changed, becoming almost unrecognizable to him.
Before, Qin Lan had never felt Li Shuang belonged to anyone, not even the Crown Prince. But now, he sensed that Li Shuang… was being taken away.
The tragedy was that at this moment, he couldn’t bring himself to say a single word to hold her back. He understood Li Shuang and knew all her expressions and secrets. He knew how resolute her mind was right now.
She said she wanted to save that one person, no matter the cost.
She used to have principles, even preferences when it came to saving people. She saved the citizens of Lu City because they were subjects of Great Jin. She saved Sima Yang because he was the Crown Prince.
But she wanted to save this black-armored man.
Her eyes told Qin Lan everything.
She wanted to save him—not for the country, not for her family, not for any benefit. Only for her own restless heart.
She wanted to save him, to keep him alive, to ensure his well-being. She wanted to see his clear, pure eyes gaze tenderly into hers once more.
She wanted so simply to save this one person, with all her might, regardless of the consequences. Because…
Her heart had already gone to him.