“Will you be with me?”
Li Shuang couldn’t answer this question. Not because she didn’t know the answer—it lay clearly before her—but because she didn’t know how to voice it.
After a long silence, she finally spoke: “I won’t be with you.” She stated it with absolute clarity, with the same sharp, steely manner she commanded thousands of troops: “After I enter the palace, I won’t leave, nor will I return to the General’s Manor. You’ll have to be alone.”
Jin An gazed at her, the morning sun reflecting in his dark eyes, concealing what turbulent waves might churn beneath their subtle ripples.
“Is it because…” he deliberated for a long while, speaking carefully as if afraid to startle her, his voice hoarse, “I would hurt you?”
“It’s because I have my burdens and responsibilities.” After answering, Li Shuang saw Jin An’s expression and felt her heart wrench, unable to keep looking. She meant to turn and leave, to end this conversation, but just as she was about to go, her wrist was caught in a firm grip—Jin An had grabbed her.
“I’ll help you,” he said. “Your burdens, your responsibilities—I’ll help you carry them.”
Li Shuang’s heart stirred, her eyes lowering. She closed them and sighed: “Jin An, no one can help me.”
Li Shuang spoke the truth, but seeing Jin An’s wounded gaze still made her heart ache.
But what could she do?
If she didn’t say it now, should she wait until they reached the capital to tell him these words amid all that solemnity?
She pried his fingers loose: “Rest well. We’ll depart for the capital tomorrow. I’ll be outside—if you feel unwell, call for me immediately.” After speaking, she exchanged a glance with Wu Yin, and they left the room together.
Jin An sat dejectedly on the bed, staring at his empty palm in silence.
He was so quiet that neither Li Shuang nor Wu Yin noticed when he suddenly furrowed his brow and pressed his hand against his temple as they left.
That night, Qin Lan went down the mountain to organize the remaining thousand elite cavalry. Wu Yin went to arrange for the Five Spirits Sect members who would accompany Li Shuang and Jin An tomorrow. Jin An stayed in his room without emerging, making no sound, and Li Shuang steeled her heart not to check on him.
She sat at the edge of the Five Spirits Sect’s cliff, drinking through most of the night.
The alcohol permeated her being, yet Li Shuang remained terrifyingly clear-headed throughout.
She gazed at the moon above South Long Mountain, feeling the warm southern night breeze, breathing in the scent of grass and earth. She knew that once she returned to the capital, both the warfare of the frontier and the mountain moonlight would become mere memories.
Li Shuang fell asleep holding the wine jar. When Wu Yin came to wake her the next day, he pinched his nose in disgust: “Grand General, you don’t take care of yourself.”
Li Shuang glanced at him, then looked behind him where five or six Five Spirits Sect members were scattered about. Jin An stood at the back, wearing plain clothes provided by the sect. He still maintained his adult form, looking no different from ordinary people, though his face was somewhat pale.
Li Shuang didn’t think much of it, assuming his body had finally stabilized. She stood up, brushing off the dust: “If you’re all ready, let’s head down the mountain.”
Wu Yin asked: “What about your belongings?”
“I have nothing to bring.”
She had come alone, and now that she could take Jin An back, her purpose was fulfilled.
After descending South Long Mountain, Li Shuang led her soldiers day and night, finally catching up with the main force that had departed two days earlier just before reaching the capital.
At first, Li Shuang had worried that Jin An, who had always relied on qinggong to fly about, wouldn’t know how to ride, but surprisingly, his horsemanship surpassed all the elite cavalry. She grew increasingly curious about Jin An’s background, wanting to ask if he had remembered anything about his past now that he had returned to normal.
But throughout the journey back, Jin An had begun deliberately avoiding contact with Li Shuang. During rest stops and meals, he always sat alone at a distance. When Li Shuang would try to call him, he would skillfully avoid her before she could speak, as if knowing her intentions.
After this happened several times, Li Shuang realized Jin An was avoiding her.
She thought her words before leaving South Long Mountain had hurt him, but after much consideration, she found no way to comfort him about this matter, so she had to let Jin An continue his “awkwardness.”
That day, Li Shuang led fifty thousand iron cavalry back to the capital. While the main army went to the military camp, Li Shuang, before returning home, had to first lead her officers to report to the emperor and relinquish her military authority.
Just as she was organizing the troops and instructing several officers about the upcoming imperial audience, a carriage passed nearby. Unlike the intricate decorations common to Great Jin’s capital, this carriage was more robustly built, with three strong horses pulling it.
Li Shuang recognized it as a Western Rong carriage.
As the carriage passed by Li Shuang’s group, it suddenly slowed. When the driver called the horses to stop, a person wearing Western Rong official robes descended.
The visitor wasn’t as tall and broad as typical Western Rong people, instead appearing somewhat hunched and small, with an aged face of about fifty years. Yet his narrow eyes flashed with the sharpness of a frontier eagle.
“What a coincidence to encounter General Li on the road.”
All the generals present had fought against Western Rong, big battles and small. Everyone maintained stern expressions, silent, while only the small old man smiled as if the two countries were friendly neighbors who hadn’t been killing each other just this past winter.
Li Shuang sized him up, the words “Western Rong envoy, not easy to deal with” flashing through her mind: “Indeed a coincidence. While in the South, I heard the Western Rong envoy wouldn’t sign the peace treaty until meeting me. I’ve been curious about the reason, unexpected to meet like this.”
Hearing Li Shuang identify his position, the old man’s smile deepened: “It’s merely that our new king has heard tales of General Li’s deeds and is truly curious about you. He instructed this humble servant to certainly meet the General face to face during this visit to Great Jin.” He bowed, gesturing toward the imperial palace, “Today His Majesty of Great Jin sent word that the General would return to court. I was just heading to the great hall—would the General care to travel together?”
“No need. I still have matters to arrange. Please go ahead, Envoy. I will present myself for the imperial audience shortly.”
The old man didn’t insist, nodding and turning to leave. But in the instant, he turned his back, his eagle-like gaze suddenly caught sight of Jin An standing behind Li Shuang and the other generals.
His eyes narrowed, his steps faltering slightly.
Their eyes met for just a moment, unnoticed by others. The old man withdrew his gaze, lowered his eyes, and stepped into the carriage. The wheels rolled forward, and Li Shuang’s group watched him leave as if nothing had happened.
Jin An also kept his head down, staring at the ground until he heard someone call “Jin An” three times before finally looking up.
Li Shuang was staring at him: “Go back to the General’s Manor with Qin Lan first. Someone will make arrangements for you.”
Jin An didn’t speak, and after a moment of silence, Li Shuang turned and left.
Upon entering the palace, everything unfolded as Li Shuang had anticipated. She surrendered her military authority before everyone. Though several deputy commanders looked surprised, no one spoke. Sima Yang cooperated by not inquiring about the specific details of her expedition to South Long Mountain, merely accepting her report that the mountain bandits had been pacified, glossing over the matter.
However, when signing the peace treaty, the Western Rong envoy remarked: “General Li is valiant and skilled in warfare. From now on, no longer serving Your Majesty and Great Jin—truly Your Majesty’s loss.”
Sima Yang smiled: “The envoy need not worry about this. We will arrange General Li’s position appropriately, certainly not wasting her talents.”
The implicit meaning of these words was clear to everyone present. The commanders exchanged glances, all remaining silent.
Li Shuang maintained her composure, keeping her thoughts to herself.
Now that the Western Rong envoy had met Li Shuang as desired, he readily signed the peace treaty in the great hall. The emperor was greatly pleased and scheduled a banquet at the suburban palace tomorrow to celebrate the peaceful relations between Western Rong and Great Jin from this day forward.
After the court matters concluded, Sima Yang kept Li Shuang behind.
Dismissing all attendants, the emperor, and subject walked quietly through the imperial garden. Li Shuang stayed one step behind him, stopping when he stopped, obediently.
“Xiao Shuang.”
Sima Yang used the name he had called her in the past, but Li Shuang respectfully answered: “Your subject is here.”
Sima Yang remained silent for a long while.
“The person you went to save—did you save them?”
“Thanks to Your Majesty’s grace, all went smoothly.”
Sima Yang turned around, looking at Li Shuang’s lowered head, speaking softly: “Three months, Xiao Shuang. I give you only three months to sort out your feelings. After three months, I want you as my consort. Your eyes, your heart—they can only be for me.”
Li Shuang suddenly thought of Jin An—him pulling her into the alley in the Northern Frontier, kissing her while wearing his mask; their first meeting, when he saved her and then kissed her lips on that snowy mountaintop; and recently, on South Long Mountain, his passion and loss of control.
Each scene was chaotic, yet each was so real.
Li Shuang suppressed all her emotions, raising her head to look at Sima Yang, her gaze clear and cold: “Your Majesty, I have always been very clear about this.”
She must sever all ties, must be heartless. She had indulged in willfulness, and now, it was time to face the consequences.