Chu Qiao was awake the whole time. She simply refused to open her eyes. She knew people were moving around her, calling her softly, crying bitterly, feeding her medicine, and some silently watching her, neither approaching nor speaking.
She knew everything, but she didn’t want to wake up. She remained in a stupefied sleep, her heart like cold withered firewood, shriveled and drained of nourishment. She kept having the same dream over and over. In the dream, everything was ice-cold. She floated in a pitch-black icy lake, surrounded by such coldness, with shattered ice constantly touching her skin. Zhuge Yue faced her, sinking bit by bit, with a faint light flickering behind him, making his face appear so pale. Only his eyes remained, pitch-black and bright like stars, showing no discernible emotion, just silently looking at her, silently and slowly, sinking.
For the first time in her life, Chu Qiao was so fragile. She was exhausted and wanted to sleep forever. Life had nothing left worth clinging to. Those dreams she had once pursued with madness and obsession were instantly shattered. She didn’t want to think, had no strength to think, and lacked even the courage to open her eyes and face reality. She wanted to escape, weakly believing that as long as she didn’t open her eyes, nothing had happened. Only now did she finally understand that she too was a woman who could feel pain, sadness, injury, and especially despair. She refused to eat, refused to take medicine, not let a drop of water pass her lips.
Until one day, there was suddenly an uproar outside the door. Someone was loudly cursing her, countless venomous words flying sharply, piercing her heart one by one. That voice was so familiar that she hurriedly opened her eyes and crawled down from the bed, only to see Zhu Cheng’s body being pierced through.
The young and unskilled steward was covered in wounds, his clothes torn and his face bloodied, like a madman. One arm had already been cut off, yet he was still frantically trying to rush in. Blood wound its way across the courtyard’s bluestone slabs. His eyes were bloodshot as he cursed while attacking the guards with his remaining hand. The guards didn’t use much force; they merely prevented him from approaching the house, repeatedly knocking him down, then coldly watching as he struggled to his feet again and again.
“You ungrateful, heartless, treacherous woman!” Zhu Cheng howled in a hoarse voice. His entire body was covered with sores and frostbite, many of which had festered – clearly injuries from long exposure in the snow.
Zi Su embraced her, trying with trembling hands to cover her eyes, but Chu Qiao stood straight. She was like a sharp spear, standing motionless, watching as Zhu Cheng was repeatedly struck down, only to rise again, charging toward her time after time.
“Stop,” Chu Qiao said softly.
“Stop!” she suddenly shouted, pushing Jing Zi Su aside and stumbling out. The wind outside was so cold, like sharp knives. She ran madly, forcefully pushing aside the guards in front, shouting: “Everyone stop!”
“I’ll kill you!” Zhu Cheng shouted, clumsily swinging his blade and charging forward. Chu Qiao stood there foolishly. At this moment, she seemed no longer the agile modern special agent she once was. She stood still, neither dodging nor avoiding the blade coming straight at her, watching wide-eyed as the war blade came down on her head.
However, just as the blade’s edge tore through her clothes, an arrow shot through the air, precisely piercing Zhu Cheng’s heart. Fresh blood spurted from the young steward’s mouth, splattering across Chu Qiao’s face. The man’s body shuddered, his pupils instantly dilating. His knees weakened, and he fell to the ground with a thud. Chu Qiao caught him, only to see him looking at her with eyes full of disgust and hatred. Using his last breath, he spat a mouthful of bloody phlegm onto Chu Qiao’s face, coldly cursing:
“Slut!”
With a “thud,” Zhu Cheng fell to the ground. Dust rose, like winged insects clinging to Chu Qiao’s blood-stained face. She slowly raised her head, only to see Yan Xun’s cold face.
Putting down his bow, Yan Xun walked over with a gloomy expression, looking down at her, saying in a deep voice: “I have announced to the world that you set a trap to lure Zhuge Yue here and killed him. This man came to Yan Bei with Zhuge Yue, so he arrived quickly. I expect that in a few days, the Zhuge family’s assassins will come in batches, but I’ve assigned many people to protect you. You need not worry.”
Chu Qiao looked at Yan Xun. In her daze, she almost didn’t know who the person in front of her was. She tried hard to think, opening her eyes wide to see him clearly, but her head hurt madly. Sunlight shone on him, golden and bright. She couldn’t keep her eyes open.
The guards dragged away Zhu Cheng’s corpse, blood trailing all the way, but his vengeful eyes remained open, glaring at her fiercely as if wanting to swallow her whole.
Yan Xun soon left with his people. The courtyard grew quiet. Servants brought large buckets of water, pouring them on the ground with a splash, washing away the blood again and again. Chu Qiao stood there motionless. No one dared disturb her. Jing Zi Su cautiously approached, tremblingly pulling at the hem of her clothes, softly calling: “Yue’er? Yue’er?”
The wind blew against her body, chilling her to the bone. Zi Su gently shook her arm, her voice gradually taking on a tearful tone.
Suddenly, the angry shouts of a young man came from outside. A Jing cursed at the guards blocking him and strode in. Seeing Chu Qiao’s condition, his nose instantly twinged with emotion. Ignoring the servants around, he picked Chu Qiao up and carried her into the house. It was so cold outside, yet Chu Qiao wore only a thin white garment. The maids rushed forward in panic to warm her hands and face. She stood there dazed, letting people handle her, as if already dead.
“Miss, don’t be like this,” A Jing said with red eyes. “It’s not His Majesty’s fault. It’s all because of that deceitful villain Cheng Yuan’s treacherous words. Miss, you must be stronger.”
A Jing’s voice sounded so distant, as if coming from the far side of heaven. Chu Qiao turned slightly, looking at him with confusion. After a long while, she finally asked in a deep voice: “Where is He Xiao?”
Chu Qiao’s voice sounded so hoarse, like a broken bellows. A Jing was slightly stunned, as if he hadn’t understood her words, and asked foolishly: “Huh? What?”
“Where is He Xiao? What about the Elegant Army soldiers? Are they alright? Did anything happen to them?”
“No, no, nothing happened,” A Jing quickly answered. “They’re all fine, currently in the Wei Wu office. They wanted to come see you, but you’re still recovering, and His Majesty doesn’t allow outsiders to disturb you.”
“Oh.” Chu Qiao nodded silently, her expression very calm. She asked again: “Zhuge Yue’s troops, are they all dead?”
“All dead. The bodies have been retrieved. Most were found, though some were too deep to reach, but surely they couldn’t have survived.”
“What about Zhuge Yue? Was he… recovered?”
A Jing slightly licked his lips. Seeing Chu Qiao’s calm expression, he said in a deep voice: “He’s been recovered. General Yue escorted his body back to Great Xia. Zhao Che came personally to receive it. Since the body was intact, we received a ransom of one million gold from the Zhuge family.”
Chu Qiao’s expression remained wooden. Her eyes were fixed, just nodding continuously. A Jing nervously said: “Miss, don’t worry, no one damaged his body. It was in good condition when sent back. His Majesty even prepared a fine coffin…”
“When someone is dead, what use is a coffin?” Chu Qiao said flatly, then stood up. She hadn’t eaten for six or seven days, only having been force-fed some medicine at the beginning. She walked unsteadily, almost falling. Zi Su tried to support her but was pushed away. She tottered to the writing desk, and picked up paper and brush, seemingly wanting to write.
“I’ll grind the ink for you,” Zi Su hurriedly ran forward to prepare the ink.
The door of the room was still open. The wind blew in, causing the books on the desk to flutter wildly. Zi Su anxiously ordered the maid: “Quickly close the door!”
When she looked down again, she saw that Chu Qiao had already finished writing. She folded the letter and handed it to A Jing, calmly saying: “Please give this letter to He Xiao. Tell him to follow the instructions in it, and make sure to stop the Zhuge family’s assassins from entering Yan Bei.”
A Jing took it in a daze, then saw Chu Qiao quickly write another letter, handing it to him: “Give this letter to Master Wu. Tell him that individual power is limited, but there are many ways to achieve one’s beliefs. I have sown seeds in Shang Shen, and now I entrust it to him.”
Then, Chu Qiao wrote yet another letter.
“Give this letter to Juan Juan. Tell her, I’m counting on her.”
A Jing felt a sense of foreboding. The straightforward man asked bluntly: “Miss, you’re not thinking of taking your own life, are you?”
Chu Qiao raised her eyes to look at him. Her gaze was still clear, but A Jing felt something was different.
Yes, it was different. Before, even when the young lady was calm and composed when she looked at you, you could truly feel her emotions and her joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness. But now, even when she looked at you, you couldn’t feel her gaze. Her eyes looked at you but seemed to penetrate through you, beyond your body, beyond the house, beyond the courtyard walls, beyond the distant clouds and moon at the edge of the sky…
“No,” Chu Qiao said flatly, then turned to Zi Su and said: “I’m hungry. Bring something to eat.”
Jing Zi Su was stunned. After a while, she happily agreed and ran out quickly.
The food had been prepared and kept warm. Zi Su efficiently arranged a large table with the servants, standing beside Chu Qiao and excitedly saying: “This was sent by His Majesty. It’s best for you as you’re just recovering from a serious illness. This is the medicinal food prepared by Doctor Yu, good for the spleen and stomach. You haven’t eaten for days, so you shouldn’t eat too much meat. This is the chicken soup I stewed over a slow fire for eleven hours, please try it…”
Gradually, Zi Su’s voice grew softer and softer. She watched Chu Qiao helplessly. Chu Qiao held the rice bowl, mechanically shoveling rice into her mouth, chewing and swallowing in large mouthfuls. She quickly finished one bowl, then got up to serve herself another, sat down, and continued eating.
Her manner of eating was frightening, like a beggar who had been hungry for a long time, desperately shoveling food into her mouth. Jing Zi Su was terrified and tried shakily to stop her, but Chu Qiao kept her head down, completely ignoring her. Zi Su bit her lip, tears falling one by one. She pulled Chu Qiao’s arm forcefully, crying sorrowfully: “Yue’er, if you’re sad, just cry out. Don’t hold it in like this, it will hurt you. If you’re sad, just cry out!”
Chu Qiao remained silent, still eating. She chewed mechanically as if trying to chew and swallow all the pain and depression in her heart.
The room was quiet except for Zi Su’s sobbing. A Jing held the three letters, feeling his fingers grow cold. He wanted to say something but encountered Chu Qiao’s icy gaze. The woman coldly raised her head and said flatly: “You can go.”
By the time A Jing left, Chu Qiao was taking medicine. Doctors came in batches, carrying large medicine boxes. The courtyard seemed to have regained some life, but for some reason, A Jing felt it had grown colder.
Just outside the door, he saw Yan Xun standing under the poplar tree. Though this place, Yunbi, had a beautiful name, it was a poor and remote area with harsh mountains and treacherous waters. Every year there were heavy snowstorms. The people living here could never fill their stomachs, so each year they fled the famine. Over time, except for some elderly people, only these poplar trees remained.
Seeing him come out, Yan Xun didn’t turn around. He handed over the few letters in his hand. Yan Xun opened them one by one, reading carefully. All three letters were short, yet Yan Xun spent a full half hour reading them. Finally, he put the letters back in their envelopes and returned them to A Jing, saying: “Do as she says.”
A Jing’s face flushed red as if caught stealing. After a moment of silence, he finally said in a deep voice, “Your Majesty, will the young lady consider taking her own life? I heard her speaking as if making her final arrangements.”
Yan Xun’s expression remained unchanged, giving A Jing the same answer as Chu Qiao: “She won’t.”
“Then…” A Jing asked again, “Why make the young lady bear the blame for Zhuge Yue’s murder? Not only will the Zhuge family’s assassins seek mad revenge, but the young lady will also hate you, won’t she?”
“Hate me?” Yan Xun’s tone rose as he gave a deep laugh, saying lightly: “That’s still better than being dead.”
A Jing was slightly stunned. In his daze, he seemed to understand something, yet not completely. He asked again: “Your Majesty if we just use any corpse to deceive Great Xia and the Zhuge family, won’t there be consequences? We’ve already received their ransom.”
Yan Xun didn’t answer. Instead, he stretched out his hand, pointing to the vast snow plain ahead, and said slowly: “A Jing, do you know why Yunbi isn’t marked on the map of Yan Bei?”
A Jing didn’t understand why he suddenly asked this. He shook his head: “I don’t know.”
“Because it’s useless,” Yan Xun said in a low, cold tone. “It’s too small, full of strange rocks, unsuitable for farming or pasture. Nothing grows here. The Crimson River doesn’t flow through here, and Thousand-Fathom Lake is far away. The climate is harsh with snowstorms every winter. The location is remote – even when the Dog Rong people invade, they don’t come here to plunder. Both militarily and economically, it’s a burden to Yan Bei, completely useless, so it’s not even marked on the map.”
He laughed coldly, his voice so deep, slowly turning his head: “What Zhuge Yue is now to the Zhuge family is what Yunbi is to Yan Bei – his existence is only a shame and burden. For an imperial general who was rash, reckless, arbitrary, and didn’t die on the battlefield but in his obsession with a woman, what fate do you think awaits him? The Zhuge family can’t distance themselves from him fast enough. Who would claim his body?”
A Jing suddenly understood, saying: “Oh, no wonder Your Majesty used the young lady as a decoy. The real target was the Zhuge family.”
Yan Xun looked at the distance expressionlessly, saying slowly: “Zhuge Yue’s death is just the beginning. The Zhuge clan, Zhao Che, General Yue Xing, and Meng Tan who recommended him will all be affected by this. Isn’t Great Xia in chaos now? Zhao Qi is dead, and Zhao Song is hopeless. The forces of the Wei clan and Zhao Yang are too weak. I might as well help them a bit. Only when Great Xia is internally unstable can my throne remain secure.”
A Jing was too stunned to speak. He stood there, the wind blowing against his face, looking somewhat dazed.
“A Jing, stop competing with Cheng Yuan,” Yan Xun looked at him, frowning slightly. “You’re no longer an assassin from a civilian organization. With Yan Bei’s eastern campaign imminent, you’re my confidant. Playing politics requires political methods and attitudes. Many people need to be sacrificed. If you can’t accept this, you’ll forever be like those impractical dreamers in the Great Unity Association, dreaming beautiful dreams but never tasting the flavor of power.”
Yan Xun turned away, not looking at A Jing’s stunned expression. There was something he didn’t say: although lions are fierce and useful, they’re hard to control. Sometimes, he only needed a pack of dogs.
As for A Chu, she would understand eventually. Killing Zhuge Yue was necessary, and using her name to set this trap was unavoidable. First, Zhuge Yue was difficult to deal with, and extraordinary measures were needed. Second, he truly needed the aftermath of this incident. When Great Xia falls apart because of this, she would naturally understand that he was right.
As for her feelings for Zhuge Yue, Yan Xun scoffed. He wasn’t afraid when the man was alive, so why fear a dead man? She was just, as usual, throwing a tantrum and feeling sad for a few days. Time would wash everything away, and he had plenty of time.
A Jing remained silent, thinking, then suddenly asked: “Your Majesty, the young lady is very sad. Won’t you go in to see her?”
“No time. I must go to the border fortress tonight. Zhao Che has been here long enough; it’s time for him to go home.”
With that, Yan Xun left. A Jing stood in place, watching as Yan Xun mounted his horse and, escorted by his guards, rode further and further away. In his daze, he suddenly remembered something Yan Xun had said to him long ago in the Sacred Golden Palace.
He had advised Yan Xun to prioritize the greater good, and Yan Xun had turned to ask him, “Without A Chu, what use is Yan Bei to me?”
He remembered those words clearly, still echoing in his ears today. But now, had His Majesty forgotten them? Perhaps he hadn’t forgotten; Yan Bei had never been important to him. His ambitions were too great, his wisdom too high. His eyes were set on the entire world.
A Jing lowered his head, no longer knowing right from wrong. Perhaps from the day he followed Yan Xun, today’s outcome was already destined.
He turned and walked toward the Wei Wu office. His once-straight back was somehow bent, as if something weighed on him, preventing him from walking upright again.
Chu Qiao rested for five full days before her spirit fully recovered. Zi Su accompanied her daily, talking about their childhood and about the parents and relatives Chu Qiao had never met. Zi Su was married now, and her husband was an officer. Yesterday she received a letter, and judging by her beaming expression, she seemed quite satisfied.
These days, Chu Qiao appeared normal – eating properly, taking her medicine, and even doing stretching exercises in the courtyard when not resting. Her previous illness had made her face gaunt, but she was gradually recovering, though still pale. Jing Zi Su found it strange – secretly checking at night, she discovered that though Chu Qiao lay in bed, her eyes remained open, often staying awake until dawn, sleepless throughout the night.
Today was the New Year. The battle at the border fortress had ended three days ago. The Sacred Golden Palace urgently sent eight gold medallions recalling Zhao Che to the capital. Zhao Che had no choice but to withdraw. Yan Xun seized the opportunity to attack Yanming Pass. Although he couldn’t capture it, Great Xia suffered over fifty thousand casualties – a grand gift to Yan Bei before the New Year.
Yan Xun returned a day early. Yunbi suddenly became the place where the Yan Bei Emperor would spend the New Year. Local officials were excited as if injected with chicken blood, decorating everywhere with lanterns and festive ornaments, creating an atmosphere of joy.
Jing Zi Su brought new clothes in the morning – bright red with a hundred embroidered lilies, looking auspicious and festive. But Chu Qiao found them uncomfortable, feeling the color was like blood, spreading bit by bit, unwilling even to touch it with her fingertips.
Everything had been arranged. The message should have been sent out. Shang Shen had been entrusted to Master Wu. As for the Elegant Army, following her offered no future. Master Wu and Miss Yu were core members of the Great Unity Association, viewed with suspicion by Yan Xun as not suitable to command troops. She could only entrust them to Juan Juan, who shared the Yan bloodline and was a woman. As the Princess of Yan Bei with the Fire Cloud Army at her disposal, she should be able to provide a good future for the Elegant Army.
There was no need to stay in this place any longer.
When Yan Xun entered, the room was already empty, everything was as usual, neat and clean.
He suddenly remembered the night when he and Zhao Chun’er were engaged, and his heart instantly turned cold. It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected this, but he still harbored some hope. Maybe she had come to understand? Maybe she no longer blamed him? After all, they had been together for nearly ten years, and she had always been so accommodating. No matter what he did, she always forgave him. He had abandoned the Southwestern Garrison, abandoned Yan Bei, killed her subordinates, suspected and marginalized her – hadn’t she stayed with him through it all? It was just Zhuge Yue, just Zhuge Yue. Even if she felt gratitude toward him, how could it compare to the ten years she and Yan Xun had shared?
Perhaps they just needed to talk. If he openly shared all his thoughts, she should understand. Even if angry, she would eventually calm down. At worst, he could let her command troops again. Now that the situation was settled, there was nothing to worry about.
He didn’t know why he was so stubborn. These past few days, he had comforted himself hundreds of times. But now, looking at this neat and clean room, he suddenly panicked. He hurried out, and as he walked, his sleeve knocked something small off the desk. There was a clear “snap” as it hit the floor. Yan Xun looked down to see a pure white jade ring, now broken into many pieces, reflecting the candlelight with a slightly eye-piercing glow.
Yan Xun stood there in a daze, looking at the ring, suddenly remembering A Chu’s words: “If Zhuge Yue dies in Yan Bei, I will never forgive you.”
I will never forgive you…
Never…
“Yue’er?” Jing Zi Su pushed open the door, running in happily, calling: “Come out with me to see the lanterns!”
Suddenly seeing Yan Xun standing in a daze, Zi Su was frightened and hurriedly knelt to kowtow. After a while, not hearing Yan Xun’s voice, she carefully raised her head to see the man standing stiffly, his face filled with loneliness, like a thick fog that wouldn’t disperse.
Chu Qiao walked on the street, leading a horse, wearing an ordinary blue-green cloak. Around her were joyful crowds, colorful lanterns burning high, bright clothes, and children running back and forth with lanterns.
The lanterns were exquisitely made – dragons, phoenixes, tigers, carp, white plum trees, the East Sea God of Longevity, dogs, baby chickens, gentle cats, and lovely rabbits…
Fireworks lit up the sky, and the entire street was filled with the strong scent of wine. Decorated with colorful lanterns and ribbons, street vendors called out their wares. Both sides of the street were lined with lantern riddles. In the distance, on the ice field, people danced the New Year dance with dry-land boat lanterns, while suona horns played festive music.
So many people passed by Chu Qiao, but no one stopped to look at her. People walked arm in arm – husbands leading wives, wives holding children, children turning to call their grandmothers, grandmothers supporting elderly grandfathers. Everyone had a family. On this festive day, they had left their poor homes to come to the busy streets, smiling joyfully to celebrate this rare holiday.
“A Chu, I’ve never told you these things before. I’ll only say them once, so listen carefully. I want to thank you, thank you for accompanying me through hell for so many years, thank you for not abandoning me during the darkest days of my life, and thank you for always standing by my side. Without you, Yan Xun would be nothing; he would have died on that snowy night eight years ago. A Chu, I won’t say these words again. I will spend a lifetime making it up to you. Some things don’t need to be said between us; we should understand each other. A Chu belongs to me, Yan Xun, only to me. I will protect you, take you away. Eight years ago I took your hand, and I never planned to let go.”
“Yan Xun, I never had a hometown. Because you were there, I made your hometown my own.”
“A Chu, trust me.”
Trust me, I will protect you, care for you, not let you be hurt, not let you suffer even a bit of grievance. Trust me, I will make you happy. Trust me…
Tears streamed from Chu Qiao’s eyes, without sound, just silently sliding down her pointed face, over her thin chin. The cold wind blew like thin knives, so painful. She led the horse, walking slowly.
All the past floated chaotically before her eyes. That tall and mighty figure finally shattered with a crash, breaking into many pieces, floating lightly like fluffy goose feathers.
Suddenly, the midnight bell was struck. A group of children ran over, bumping into her. A little girl fell to the ground, breaking the lantern in her hand. It was a small fish, not very realistic, white with red eyes, looking more like a rabbit, with a gold ingot painted on its belly. The child held the broken lantern and began to cry, louder and louder. Chu Qiao stopped in her tracks, then crouched down, reaching out to wipe away the child’s tears, taking out some silver from her pocket to give to her.
Just then, a deafening sound of firecrackers suddenly erupted. The time of staying up for the New Year had passed, and every household lit firecrackers. The child was startled, foolishly forgetting to cry, covering her ears and shouting excitedly.
But Chu Qiao seemed to have been punched by an invisible giant, her face instantly drained of color.
“If you dare to die, I’ll hunt you down to the King of Hell’s palace! Remember?”
The man turned his head, sword-like eyebrows raised, cursing fiercely.
She raised her head defiantly: “If you die, I’ll set off a hundred strings of firecrackers to celebrate never having to remember that I owe you a debt of gratitude.”
The sound of firecrackers grew louder, crackling in continuous strings. Tears suddenly gushed from Chu Qiao like a spring. Those images hidden in her memory, which she had tried so hard to suppress, once again burst forth like a mountain flood. Heart-wrenching pain instantly swept over her, shattering her calm and self-restraint.
“What… what’s wrong with you?” The child was frightened by her, shouting over the sound of firecrackers: “Don’t cry anymore. I don’t need you to pay me back, okay?”
As the firecrackers grew louder, Chu Qiao finally could no longer endure. Amid the festive, bustling street, she knelt on the ground, covered her face, and wept aloud.