The capital of Xi Kingdom was at the edge of the central plains. With the Yan army’s formidable strength, once they crossed the river, perhaps no force could stop them from striking the Xi capital.

Thus, although Zhao Yun’s tone was calm, there was a hint of satisfaction on his face.

Being backed by the world’s strongest nation, he had reason to be proud.

Lu Ping suddenly said: “The Yan army has not yet crossed the Qinglan River.”

The eyes of the other three converged on him, and Fu Lingchuan seemed to suddenly remember: “Ah yes, Young Master Lu left the Jiao Kingdom just two days ago, so you must have the latest news.”

Lu Ping nodded: “Xi Kingdom’s famous general Huo Yunsong made a military pledge to stop the Yan army at the eastern bank of Qinglan River. Indeed, the Yan army has attempted to cross the Qinglan River four times, but he has stopped them all, preventing their crossing.”

Zhao Yun raised his eyebrows: “This is also news from more than ten days ago, isn’t it? None of us sitting here has first-hand intelligence.”

Lu Ping smiled: “Though old news, we can extrapolate from it. In my view, the possibility of the Yan army forcing a crossing of the Qinglan River within these two months is low.”

“How so?” This question came from Feng Miaojun, her face full of interest, while Prince Zhao Yun’s expression slightly darkened, and he remained silent.

“The Qinglan River’s water mostly comes from melting mountain snow. Now it’s late spring, the third month, and even the most towering mountain ranges have lost most of their snow cover, so this happens to be the season when water volume is most abundant.” Lu Ping dipped his finger in wine and sketched the terrain of both banks of the Qinglan River on the table. “Forgive my directness, Your Highness, but if the Yan army couldn’t cross the Qinglan River a month ago, now I’m afraid they also…”

Zhao Yun’s lips turned slightly downward: “Human effort determines outcomes. Besides, the battlefield changes in an instant—who knows what unexpected events may occur?” He looked at the terrain map drawn with wine on the table. “Young Master Lu seems quite familiar with Xi Kingdom’s terrain. Could it be that you’ve seen it with your own eyes?”

Though this remark carried a hint of sarcasm, Feng Miaojun’s heart stirred.

This world was vast with underdeveloped transportation. Land travel mostly relied on ox or horse carts, and between the north and south lands lay the enormous Forbidden Sea. Even among each kingdom’s nobility, most had never crossed this dangerous ocean in their lifetime. Her case—traveling north and south before reaching seventeen—was an exception among exceptions.

Lu Ping was only in his early twenties. Even if he had seen maps of Xi Kingdom in the Grand Tutor’s study, it would have been difficult to analyze so incisively by connecting timing and geography.

Most peculiar was that, although Lu Ping was merely discussing facts, Feng Miaojun felt he was deliberately targeting Zhao Yun. Perhaps Zhao Yun sensed this too, which was why he showed displeasure.

What grudge could the young master of Jiao Kingdom’s Grand Tutor’s household have against a Yan prince? Weren’t they meeting for the first time?

Zhao Yun’s status and presence were both very strong, creating a slightly tense atmosphere. Fu Lingchuan, as the host, spoke to ease the tension: “Both have valid points. I estimate that by the Queen’s birthday celebration, the latest war reports should arrive.”

Lu Ping smiled: “How about a wager with Your Highness? We’ll use the intelligence received by State Preceptor Fu as the standard and bet on whether the Yan army can cross the Qinglan River!”

He had called him out by name; how could Zhao Yun not accept? He straightened his robe and said coolly: “Fine, what’s the stake?”

At this time, the peach blossom wine had been warmed. Feng Miaojun took the white jade cup presented by the attendant and took a light sip. The moistening effect of the wine made her lips appear even more alluring, like a red rose dampened by morning dew.

Lu Ping stared at her for a moment.

That gaze was somewhat profound, with an indescribable quality. This feeling seemed somewhat familiar, but she couldn’t recall it at the moment.

While she was pondering, Lu Ping had already smiled and said: “A small bet to liven things up. How about this—the loser has to drink two jars of peach blossom wine.” He specifically patted the wine jar on the table. “Not these small jars, but ones that hold twenty jin each!”

That meant the loser would have to drink forty jin of wine. Zhao Yun’s brow relaxed, and he promptly agreed with a “good.”

The four chatted about various topics for a while longer. Feng Miaojun mostly smiled and listened, rarely speaking. In no time, she had discerned the characteristics of the three men. Fu Lingchuan, needless to say, was gentle and reserved; Zhao Yun, as the eldest son of the Yan King, only revealed a bit of sharpness after leaving Taiping City; Lu Ping, however, was well-traveled and knowledgeable, often witty—if he hadn’t kept glancing at her after drinking too much, she might have thought more highly of him.

Unknowingly, the sky gradually darkened, filled with dense clouds.

It seemed it was about to rain.

Fu Lingchuan looked up at the sky, then smiled: “All good things must come to an end. Judging by the weather, we can only go this far today.”

Tianyuan Fragrance Lodge was a great place for appreciating flowers, drinking wine, eating desserts, and gazing at beauties, but it couldn’t withstand the rain.

So the feast ended, and everyone walked out of the peach forest, crossing a small bridge to leave the sandbank. Each party’s carriages were already waiting. Just before leaving, Zhao Yun suddenly turned back and said to her: “Changle, what I said earlier was all true—willingly so.”

What he had said earlier was that he could give up his kingdom for beauty, willingly.

Feng Miaojun smiled slightly: “I understand.” She wasn’t concerned.

Zhao Yun gazed at her deeply before striding toward his carriage.

Feng and Fu’s carriage was right in front of them. They had traveled in simple attire, so the carriage lacked royal insignia, its specifications at most matching those of ordinary nobility.

The weather changed abruptly, and raindrops poured down heavily.

March weather is like a child’s face—rain comes when it says so.

Fu Lingchuan reached out to open the carriage door for her, saying gently: “Get in, the rain is heavy.”

Just as Feng Miaojun was about to step up, she noticed Lu Ping still standing behind them and couldn’t help but ask curiously: “Young Master Lu, where is your carriage?”

He coughed lightly: “The scenery of Wusel City is too enchanting; I walked from the guesthouse.”

In other words, he had no carriage. Feng Miaojun entered the carriage herself, then poked her head out to say to him: “Come up, we’ll give you a ride.”

Lu Ping’s eyes lit up with a smile: “Thank you.” With one step, he jumped up and sat beside Fu Lingchuan.

As the carriage wheels rolled, Feng Miaojun took out tea utensils from an ornate cabinet. Although this carriage appeared unremarkable from the outside, it was fully equipped inside—everything for eating and drinking was of the finest quality, and even the water in the thermos was as hot as if it had just been boiled.

After drinking wine for most of the afternoon, she wanted some clear tea to quench her thirst. However, just as she brought out the tea set, Lu Ping reached out to take it, saying: “How could I let Your Majesty do this herself? Allow me to do it for you.”

He took it quickly, his palm brushing against her fingertips.

The man’s body temperature transferred over, very warm.

Feng Miaojun frowned imperceptibly and withdrew her hand. This handover was so swift and subtle that Fu Lingchuan didn’t notice anything amiss.

Lu Ping also showed no unusual reaction, as if completely unaware of the momentary skin contact. Boiling, brewing, steeping—his movements were fluid, showing he was a master of this art.

Feng Miaojun finally noticed that his skin was smooth, his fingers long and steady, as if brimming with power yet holding it in reserve.

“Please.” The cup’s infusion was emerald green, with a fragrant aroma.

Fu Lingchuan raised a cup, took a sip, and praised: “Excellent.”

“You’re too kind.” Lu Ping smiled slightly, but his gaze lingered on Fu Lingchuan’s raised left hand.