Chapter 320: Cui Jing, What Do You Want

Outside Bian Prefecture, a great crowd had gathered to bid farewell.

In addition to Prefect Hu Lin and the city’s officials, there were countless common folk being kept in orderly lines on both sides by the constables.

As Chang Suining gazed at the faces before her, she could still vividly recall the day she had followed Prefect Hu Lin into Bian Prefecture for the very first time—when these very same citizens had lined the streets in welcome.

Back then, flowers filled the air, and the cheers celebrating the victory at the Bian River echoed for miles.

Now, after enduring a devastating flood, those same people stood subdued and silent. Yet their eyes, fixed on her, burned with a solemn devotion—hotter, even, than before.

Within that solemnity was a kind of yearning—though perhaps even they could not have said what it was they yearned for.

A natural disaster could drain the life from even the most prosperous of cities, and now, with the empire in turmoil, they feared that Bian Prefecture might become the next Yang Prefecture—or the next Dao Prefecture.

Most of them had no ambition to seize chaos for their own gain, nor the means to survive a war. They only wanted to live quietly, to work and eat in peace.

And at this moment, the girl they watched—“not a mortal being, but the reincarnation of a celestial star,” as the rumors went—had already become something more than human in their hearts.

To them, when Xu Zhengye’s army had marched upon the Bian River and Prefect Hu had ridden out to face death, it was this General Ningyuan who had defeated the invaders and slain Xu Zhengye herself.

When the floods came, it was again this same general who had raised the first warning, led the rescue efforts with her own hands, and finally completed the great prayer ritual at Yingyang.

Just as people pray to the Buddha in times of suffering, so too did their trembling hearts cling to her—a living emblem of deliverance, a being who could ward off calamity and quiet the flames of war.

The girl they gazed upon had none of a boudoir maiden’s frailty, nor was she particularly tall or imposing. Yet merely seeing her stand there seemed to still the chaos in their hearts.

And now—she was leaving.

“General Ningyuan, please don’t go!” a child of seven or eight cried out, voice trembling with innocence and pleading.

Chang Suining turned toward the sound, just as a man hastily covered the child’s mouth and scolded him in fright, “Don’t talk nonsense!”

General Ningyuan was departing under imperial command to suppress rebellion in the south. How could they stop her?

But if there had been even the slightest way to keep her here—would they not have tried?

“General Ningyuan is going to fight the rebels,” said a gentle voice to the child, “She’s going to slay the villains beyond our city walls. Once the rebels are gone, Bian Prefecture will be safe again.”

The child turned toward the voice and saw a lovely, clean face smiling back at him.

The man who had covered his mouth also looked over—and froze for a moment before recognition dawned. Wasn’t this the city’s most renowned courtesan, Miss Haitang?

That day, Haitang wore no makeup, only a simple gown. She stood among her sisters, all of them silent.

Chang Suining saw her and smiled faintly.

Haitang’s eyes reddened as she gave a deep curtsey in the general’s direction, smiling through tears.

Before long, Chang Suining mounted her horse alongside Xiao Min and the others.

Prefect Hu and the officials, as well as the masses, followed them a little farther out of the city gates.

He Wu Hu rode beside Chang Suining, feeling once again as he had the day they entered the city—as though basking in a glory that was not truly his own. It made his heart ache with guilt.

But no matter. He would repay every ounce of that debt one day.

To see a friend off for a thousand li must end in farewell.

And so, Chang Suining and Xiao Min parted from Prefect Hu and the people of Bian Prefecture.

A short distance beyond the walls, Chang Sui'an and Li Tong came riding up to meet them.

Chang Suining dismounted. She did not wish to delay the army’s march and instructed Xiao Min to lead the troops onward—she would catch up shortly.

Xiao Min complied and rode on ahead.

“Ning Ning…” Chang Sui'an said reluctantly, “What if I accompany you to Jiangnan?”

Chang Suining smiled. “And then shall I escort you to the Northern Frontier afterward, Brother?”

Chang Sui'an fell silent, his eyes dimming.

Yes—his sister no longer needed anyone to send her off. She could now command hundreds—no, thousands—without strain.

“Don’t worry, Xiao Sui'an!” cried Ah Dian, puffing up his chest proudly beside her. “With me around, you can rest easy!”

Indeed—Chang Sui'an was to go with Cui Jing.

Having recovered from his wounds and with his Xuanzhe Army registration already approved, he was to take up his post at last.

Chang Suining had always thought this an excellent arrangement. To train under Cui Jing, within the Xuanzhe Army, was a rare and invaluable opportunity.

Li Tong looked as if she wanted to speak, but seeing the resolve return to Chang Sui'an’s eyes, she held her tongue.

Reluctance was natural—but once a decision was made, it had to be followed through.

“Take care on the road, Ning Ning,” Chang Sui'an said at last. “And… send Father my regards when you return.”

Chang Suining nodded. There was no need for further advice—whatever lessons her brother needed, Cui Jing would provide.

She had sown a seed today; she would wait to harvest a wiser, stronger brother tomorrow.

She was ready to sit back and enjoy the results.

Just as she was about to mount and depart, Yuan Xiang came running up, eyes bright. “General, the Grand General is here!”

Chang Suining blinked in surprise, turning to see a group of riders approaching, escorting a carriage.

Chang Sui'an was startled as well—he had planned to head back to Yingyang to join the Xuanzhe Army after sending off his sister, but the Grand General Cui Jing himself had come in person to fetch him!

Brother and sister walked toward the carriage together.

The horses stopped. Deputy Commander Yu jumped down first, greeting Chang Suining with a grin before turning to lift the curtain.

Inside sat a young man in a dark azure robe, legs folded beneath him. His expression was cool and composed; his features strikingly refined. His complexion had turned almost translucent after long convalescence and the nourishment of tonics—

To Physician Cao, it was simply an unreasonably beautiful face.

Chang Sui'an bowed. “Grand General Cui, your wounds are not yet fully healed. You need not have come in person.”

Cui Jing froze for a moment, then answered softly, “…It’s alright.”

It was no wonder Chang Sui'an misunderstood — what other reason could there be?

If the Grand General hadn’t come to fetch him, could it be that he was here to send his sister off instead?

But only a few days ago in Yingyang, Grand General Cui had already seen them off once. Who would ever come to send someone twice?

“Sui'an…” came Li Tong’s voice from behind. “Come with me. I have something to say to you.”

Chang Sui'an hesitated, then turned to his sister.

“Ning Ning, you talk with Grand General Cui first. I’ll be back shortly.”

Worried the Grand General might grow impatient waiting for him—the man had, after all, come such a long way just to fetch him—he even made a point of arranging things properly before leaving.

Chang Suining nodded without protest.

Once her brother was gone, she climbed briskly into the carriage without waiting for an invitation, folding her legs to sit opposite Cui Jing.

Outside, Yuan Xiang tugged on Deputy Commander Yu’s sleeve, pulling him away.

“Why are you dragging me!” Yu hissed irritably. “Do you think I don’t know how to walk on my own?”

So that’s what having ‘tact’ looks like, huh? He, Cui Yuanxiang, was so considerate!

“Didn’t you already come to send us off?” Chang Suining asked.

Cui Jing poured her a cup of tea, the soft sound of liquid filling the cup blending with his calm voice.

“Once more.”

A short distance away, Li Tong was speaking to Chang Sui'an.

“So, you truly mean to join the Xuanzhe Army and go north?”

“It’s not joining them,” he corrected solemnly. “I’ve already received my military token. I am part of the Xuanzhe Army now.”

“Why must you enlist?” Li Tong’s voice trembled slightly. “War is dangerous.”

Her eyes lingered on his figure. “Your wounds only just healed—must you throw yourself back into harm’s way so soon?”

During their time together at the Princess Chongyue’s manor, Chang Sui'an had grown accustomed to her care. He called her “Elder Sister Li,” and somewhere along the way, the address had come to carry real affection.

“Elder Sister Li, you may not know,” he said gently, “the only reason I was so eager to recover was so that I could return to the Xuanzhe Army as soon as possible.”

He paused. “War is everywhere now. Every army needs men.”

“But there are so many soldiers already,” she pressed. “Why must it be you?”

“Then what if everyone thought that way?” he asked quietly.

She froze.

“I can do so little as it is.” His gaze drifted toward the distant carriage. “Father is growing old. Even if I can’t yet be the pillar of our household, I can’t let everything fall on Ning Ning’s shoulders alone. I don’t ever want to see the day she faces danger—and I can do nothing.”

That was for their family.

And beyond family—there was the realm. “Nor do I want to stand helpless while innocent people die in the fires of war.”

Li Tong fell silent. Memories she had tried to bury surfaced, burning with shame.

“I may never be like Ning Ning,” he said softly, “but at the very least, I shouldn’t be her burden.”

“You could never be,” Li Tong finally replied. “Ning Ning is unique, yes—but you have your strengths as well.”

She spoke honestly. “You’re kind, sincere, diligent, skilled—and still you work harder than most. I believe you’ll achieve great things in the Xuanzhe Army.”

Her tone faltered slightly. “Unlike me… I’ll be lucky to escape scolding when I return to Xuanzhou.”

Seeing she no longer tried to dissuade him, Chang Sui'an grinned.

But then Li Tong’s eyes suddenly brightened with a wild idea. “If I dressed as a man and joined the Xuanzhe Army with you—could I get away with it?”

Chang Sui'an was startled. “Absolutely not!”

She thought he meant “It’s too dangerous,” but then he added, hesitantly,

“…Because you don’t look like a man at all.”

Li Tong’s shoulders slumped, her last spark of rebellion extinguished.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Then I’ll just go back to Xuanzhou and take my scolding.”

Either way, it seemed she was fated to lose him.

Inside the carriage, Chang Suining asked about Cui Jing’s wounds.

When he said they had mostly healed, she couldn’t help teasing, “So Physician Cao wasn’t lying—your body really is divine material made for beatings. No wonder you dared take all hundred strokes of the clan punishment; clearly you were born for it.”

Divine material made for beatings.

Cui Jing heard the words and took them as praise.

She was teasing him; it meant her mood was good.

That alone made his trip worth it.

As she lifted her teacup, he noticed the bands around her wrist and asked casually, “What are those?”

“Bracelets,” she replied. “Woven from sunny-grass stems.”

“Made by Miss Haitang and her sisters,” she added proudly. “Haitang—the courtesan who threw the petal when we first entered the city, remember her?”

Cui Jing thought of the colorful threads she had worn during the Dragon Boat Festival, wound thick around her wrists. She had always been one to make friends wherever she went.

“So you went to hear their music again?” he asked.

“Mhm. Last night,” she said with a grin. “One must keep one’s promises, after all.”

She set the cup down and shook her wrist, the green bracelet glinting in the light. “Would you like one too?”

Cui Jing hesitated. “I doubt it would fit me.”

“True,” she mused, then suddenly remembered something. “But this will.”

She reached down and unfastened something tied to the scabbard of her Sunblade Sword, then handed it to him.

It was a pair of lake-blue fabric strips, frayed from wear.

He stared for a moment before recognizing them. “From the Umbrella of Ten Thousand Souls?”

She nodded. “Hold out your hand.”

He did, and she wound the strips gently around his wrist.

“I’d meant to give it to you back in Yingyang,” she said softly. “But it slipped my mind.”

He had earned it, after all. Whatever others said, it was his idea to brave the Huang River and seek out Zheng Chao.

Yet his name was seldom mentioned in the tales—his role obscured by the controversy of suppressing the Zheng clan.

Perhaps he didn’t care, but she did.

When the knots were tied, she smiled. “Here. It’s yours.”

Cui Jing looked down at the strip, the faintest curve lifting his lips.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Chang Suining’s expression brightened. “By the way, I received a letter from Sister Mianmian a few days ago—”

She spoke of Mianmian’s recovery, then mentioned another name.

“She said Sixth Young Master Cui also suffered punishment by clan law. It sounded serious.”

Cui Jing nodded. “Because he opposed my expulsion.”

“Sixth Young Master Cui has changed a lot,” Chang Suining said quietly. “They’re sending him back to Qinghe.”

“Yes,” said Cui Jing. “By now he’s probably already on the road. Perhaps it’s for the best.”

Chang Suining nodded. Qinghe was safer than the capital—and perhaps that was precisely the Cui family’s intent.

She glanced out the window. It was time to move on. But something held her back—something she had been meaning to ask before she left.

“Cui Jing,” she said suddenly. “In these chaotic times, everyone wants something. What about you? What is it that you want?”

 Chapter 319: Shut Up, I Can Cry on My Own (求月票)

As Cui Lang’s carriage halted, Qiao Yubai, Hu Yi, and nearly twenty academy students gathered around it.

They were all his close friends—most of them from humble origins—and in this politically sensitive time, their presence here to see him off spoke volumes of their friendship.

The carriage that carried Cui Lang appeared simple on the outside, but inside it was furnished with great care and comfort.

His back injury had yet to heal, so he lay face down on the soft couch, propping himself up on his elbows. When he saw his friends crowding around, his heart swelled with emotion.

Since Grand General Cui had been expelled from the family, Cui Lang had stood against the rest of the clan for quite some time—though, truthfully, no one in the family had cared about his stance. In other words, it was a one-sided struggle.

During his convalescence, whenever a relative came to visit, he refused to speak a single word. He was determined to make the entire Cui family believe that he had been wounded to the core—heartbroken, disillusioned, and utterly changed.

He would let them see that the once bright, cheerful Sixth Young Master Cui was dead; what remained was a cold, detached, indifferent shell of a man.

But now, seeing all his fellow students, his lip trembled, and his eyes almost filled with tears.

When Qiao Yubai asked gently, “Does the wound still hurt?” Cui Lang whimpered, “You don’t understand… it hurts so much! I haven’t had a single good night’s sleep!”

Beside him, Yi Hu quietly exhaled in relief. His young master wasn’t dying of pain—he was dying of holding back his words.

These past days, the young master had hardly spoken at all; one could count his sentences on a single hand. Even Madam herself had said that since giving birth to him, she had never seen him this quiet before—it was, frankly, terrifying.

Even if his silence was an act, to have maintained it for this long was impressive. At least he was no longer that noisy, restless monkey who couldn’t sit still even for a moment.

Yi Hu remembered Madam’s tone when she said this—complicated, somewhere between admiration and disbelief.

“Right…” Amid his friends’ concern, Cui Lang suddenly asked Qiao Yubai the question that had weighed on his heart: “Brother Qiao, I heard that Young Miss Qiao’s eye illness has been cured. Is that true?”

“Of course it’s true! We’ve all seen her ourselves!” one of the students chimed in.

Qiao Yubai also nodded.

Cui Lang’s face lit up with joy. “That’s truly wonderful news!”

It was the best thing he could imagine—the very miracle he had prayed for in his dreams.

If only he could congratulate her in person… but alas, that was impossible.

Still, he was genuinely happy for her. “Truly happy,” he told himself.

“…And Young Miss Qiao herself is here today!” Hu Yi’s voice rang out, turning toward the approaching figure. “Miss Qiao! Over here!”

Cui Lang froze in shock.

At Hu Yi’s call, the other students all turned toward her.

Though Da Sheng had always been patriarchal, its history was unique—there had once been another female sovereign besides the present Holy Emperor. That single precedent, though short-lived, had forever altered the realm’s perception of women.

But precisely because of that, many sought to suppress women even more fiercely, determined to keep such “unruliness” from rising again.

Since her enthronement, the Holy Emperor had been mired in political struggles, too burdened to openly champion women’s rights. Yet her very existence served as a banner for them.

Thus, the position of women in Da Sheng constantly swayed between progress and repression.

Among those who had both the will and the ability to fight for women’s freedom stood Wu Chunbai.

It was, in fact, this conviction that had first drawn her toward Chang Suining—through her, Wu Chunbai saw the proof that such strength and independence were possible.

In recent months, Wu Chunbai had used Ningyuan General’s achievements to inspire change among the women of the capital. She organized poetry gatherings and spring banquets, using stories and admiration to encourage courage—and through that courage, influence.

Her cause had taken root like wild grass, spreading quietly on the spring wind through the capital’s streets.

Now, beyond the city gates, one could see many young ladies riding out to admire the summer scenery. The early heat had already arrived, and some had even removed their veils entirely, letting the sunlight touch their faces.

Among this lively bustle, Qiao Yumian’s presence was not out of place at all.

But when so many eyes turned toward her, Qiao Yumian still felt a twinge of guilt—one she understood all too well.

Even so, she did not hesitate long. Taking Xiao Qiu with her, she walked straight toward the carriage.

Inside, Cui Lang peered anxiously through the narrow gaps between his friends’ shoulders. When he saw that green, graceful figure approaching, his heart leapt into his throat.

In a panic, he lurched forward and yanked the carriage curtain down with a sharp swish.

Yi Hu nearly jumped out of his skin. “Young Master—!”

“No—no, she mustn’t see me like this!” Cui Lang hissed in terror.

This was her first time seeing him—did she not know how important first impressions were?!

He was gaunt, pale, disheveled, lying in a carriage like some sickly ghost—how could he possibly let her see him like this?

Yi Hu, who long suspected his young master’s feelings, hurried to reassure him. “Young Master need not worry! You have an excellent foundation—your looks will always shine through!”

Cui Lang touched his sunken cheek skeptically. “What foundation? The foundation of a dying ghost? The coffin-maker might appreciate it more than she will!”

“No, no, absolutely not…” He tugged the curtain tighter, even turning his face toward the carriage wall. His heart pounded so loud he thought it might burst.

As Qiao Yumian approached, the crowd of students politely made way.

Staring at the lowered curtain, Qiao Yumian hesitated, then said softly to her brother, “Brother, I wish to speak with Sixth Young Master Cui alone. May I?”

Qiao Yubai was taken aback, but he had never been one to refuse his sister. After a moment, he nodded and led Hu Yi and the others a short distance away.

Silence fell around the carriage.

“Your injury…”

“Your eyes—”

They spoke at the same time, then stopped, startled by the coincidence.

Cui Lang was the first to continue, “My wounds are much better now.”

“That’s good,” said Qiao Yumian earnestly. “And my eyes… I can see now.”

“I told you, didn’t I? I said this day would come!” His voice was bright with genuine joy. “I wasn’t lying, was I?”

She nodded. She still remembered that day when she’d fled to the lotus pond in tears. He had told her that the pond looked unlike any other in the world. When she asked him what made it different, he had replied, “You’ll know when your eyes are healed.”

Now she said softly, “I’ve seen the pond.”

She looked toward the curtain and, gathering her courage, asked, “May I… see you?”

Cui Lang’s heart thundered. Without thinking, he blurted, “No! No, you can’t!”

Qiao Yumian froze in place.

A voice came from within the carriage once more—flustered, trying to sound composed.

“…My attire is disheveled. I fear it may offend or startle you.”

Qiao Yumian wanted to say, it won’t, but after a pause, she chose to respect his words. She nodded lightly and asked, “Then… will you return to the capital again?”

“Of course!” Cui Lang said at once. “I’ll definitely come back!”

In the corner, Yi Hu huddled, trying to make himself invisible. He glanced sideways at his young master, thinking: That’s not what you said at home, Young Master.

Hadn’t he sworn bitterly that he would never set foot in the capital again? That he wanted nothing to do with the Cui family—that even in death, he’d never come back?

But now, his two-faced young master was saying warmly, “Once I reach Qinghe, I’ll write to you—and to your brother—right away!”

Qiao Yumian nodded. “Good. Then my brother and I will write you back. I can write letters on my own now.”

She added honestly, “Though my handwriting is still ugly. I must practice more—it’s hardly presentable at the moment.”

“Impossible!” Cui Lang protested at once.

How could anything of hers ever be ugly? There wasn’t a single thing about her that could be tied to that word.

Qiao Yumian smiled faintly, then said, “By the way… I’m learning medicine now, under Physician Sun.”

She was not someone who spoke much by nature, but at this moment, she had so many things she wanted to tell him—so many pieces of her life to share. Yet time was short, so she could only pick the most important ones.

“That’s wonderful!” Cui Lang exclaimed. Every word about her filled him with warmth. “You’re intelligent and meticulous—you’ll surely succeed!”

“Then… do you plan to open your own clinic someday?” he asked, his tone filled with genuine anticipation for her bright future. “If you do, I’ll never see another physician again. I’ll visit every day to support your practice!”

Yi Hu nearly choked. Not every place is meant for daily visits, you know!

“…” Qiao Yumian, too, was startled. She gently corrected him, “You mustn’t say such things. One’s body is a gift from one’s parents—it should be treated with reverence.”

Cui Lang blinked, then chuckled. “Well, well… Lady Qiao now speaks like a true physician who heals the world.”

But his smile quickly dimmed.

She had always been extraordinary. Now that her eyesight had recovered, her future would only shine brighter.

Not long ago, he had thought that when her eyes finally healed, he would confess the words he had kept buried in his heart. But now, the timing felt… wrong.

Aside from his current bedraggled state, there was also the matter of the Cui family’s uncertain fate.

Though he resented his kin, he was still a son of the Cui clan. Unlike his elder brother, he had benefited from the family’s standing all his life without ever giving anything back. That debt of blood and name was something he could not simply abandon.

So, if fortune allowed, he would of course return to the capital someday—but if he could not…

Cui Lang’s thoughts tangled and fell silent.

Just then, a servant approached to remind him it was time to depart. They could not delay any longer.

Qiao Yumian’s fingers tightened on her sleeve. She said softly, “Sixth Young Master Cui, take care of yourself.”

“You too!” Cui Lang replied, voice thick. “I’ll write often—to the Imperial Academy!”

It was, perhaps, the only promise he could still make.

“Alright.” Qiao Yumian nodded. “My brother and I will be waiting for your letters.”

“Mm!” Cui Lang’s nose stung. He buried his face in the pillow, drew in a deep breath, then lifted his head and called loudly through the curtain, “Brother Qiao, Hu Yi, Wang Zeyu—everyone—I’m off!”

Qiao Yubai and the others stepped forward, waving toward the carriage. “Take care!” they called one after another.

Qiao Yumian stood aside as the carriage began to move.

The wheels rolled smoothly along the straight road, turning again and again. She had just turned away when a familiar voice rang out behind her.

“Lady Qiao! Take care—all of you!”

Startled, Qiao Yumian turned back. From the side window of the carriage, a figure leaned halfway out, waving.

Cui Lang met her eyes from afar. As the carriage moved further away, he raised his voice again.

“And also—!”

Everyone stilled to listen.

“I don’t normally look like this!” Cui Lang shouted. “Brother Qiao and the others can vouch for me—I’m much more handsome than this on ordinary days!”

The words burst out before he could stop himself. Her earlier voice—May I see you?—still echoed in his ears. Without thinking, he had run his hand through his hair, sat up, and leaned out the window.

He pressed down the ache in his chest and grinned at her.

Qiao Yumian squinted, trying to make out his face—but her newly healed eyes could not yet see clearly at such a distance.

Still, she understood—he didn’t want her to leave disappointed.

So she pretended she could see him clearly, smiled brightly, and waved back, watching as the carriage grew smaller and smaller until it faded into the horizon.

“Careful, Young Master…”

Inside, Yi Hu hurriedly helped the exhausted Cui Lang lie back down.

Cui Lang lay face-down again, his brows drooping, thoughts in turmoil.

Yi Hu sighed. “No wonder people say—adults are never truly at ease, and those at ease never truly grow up.”

Cui Lang cracked one eye open and scowled. “And how old are you, exactly?”

“Ah…” Yi Hu sighed again, then suddenly grew teary. His voice thickened. “I just can’t help it, Young Master. The world changes too fast. The Zheng family’s gone, Eldest Young Master’s been cast out, and now you’re heading to Qinghe with an uncertain road ahead… Leaving your friends, your lady, your home—who knows when you’ll meet again?”

His voice broke, and soon he was crying outright.

“Shut up!” Cui Lang barked, glaring at him.

Then his own mouth wobbled, and all the emotion he had buried these days finally burst forth. “I—I can cry by myself!”

And with that, he snatched up Da Huang, hugging the dog tightly as tears spilled down his cheeks.

The master and servant wept together in the carriage, holding the confused dog, while the driver up front heard everything but wisely chose to say nothing.

…

Qiao Yumian soon returned to the city with her brother.

Qiao Yubai and the others had only taken leave for the day—they still had to hurry back to the Imperial Academy.

Qiao Yumian, however, did not go with them. She was heading to Xingning Ward.

Xiao Qiu, seeing her mistress’s quiet expression, whispered, “Lady, perhaps we rest today instead? If you don’t go, Physician Sun won’t blame you.”

“My teacher may not say so aloud, but I know he has prepared much for me today,” Qiao Yumian said softly. “I should still go.”

Letters could wait. But life must go on.

Partings were part of fate.

Beyond them, one still had to live sincerely.

Meanwhile, far away in Bian Prefecture, others too were saying their goodbyes—Chang Suining and Xiao Min were preparing to lead their army south, to join forces with Chang Kuo in Jiangnan.

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 Chapter 318: With Child

“Today I went to visit Mother and stayed for most of the day…” Ma Wan smiled gently. “She looked much better — she could even sit up and talk for a while. She also told me to remind the Heir that he should not overwork himself.”

Li Lu smiled faintly.

He had asked what she had been doing, and she had answered instead with where she had gone — a detail that seemed innocuous, yet told him much.

Ma Wan was a careful woman, not one to speak in circles. But when one’s heart is unwilling to deceive, even the smallest slip may betray the truth.

A woman who has given all her heart — becomes like this.

His gaze softened. “Wan’er, thank you for caring for Mother in my stead.”

“How can the Heir speak so distantly? We are husband and wife,” she replied gently. “If we speak of hardship, these past days it is the Heir who has suffered the most — tending to every matter within and beyond the Prince’s Residence.”

The world was far from peaceful. Around Yizhou, there had been rumors of uprisings; and as their province bordered the Western frontier, the Prince of Rong’s household bore burdens both internal and external — never granted a moment of rest.

Ma Wan had included reports of these disturbances and the Prince’s responses in her letters home to the capital.

Yet the reply she received from her grandfather today said that the Holy Emperor did not wish to hear of such trivial matters. From now on, she was expected to “pay closer attention.”

Pay closer attention…

How was she to do that?

Her brief distraction did not escape Li Lu’s eyes. He smiled and lifted a hand to her cheek. “What are you thinking, Wan’er?”

Ma Wan flushed slightly from his touch. “It’s nothing… I was only thinking the Heir has been too busy lately — you should take more tonic and nourishment.”

As she spoke, she noticed the hand caressing her cheek was cold as snow. “Why are your hands so cold?” she asked softly.

Li Lu’s eyes curved in a tender smile. “It is nothing. Wan’er need not worry so much for me.”

The atmosphere between them softened — enough for one of the maids standing by to sense it. She quickly interjected, “Oh! There’s tonic soup warming in the kitchen for the Heir. We’ll go and fetch it.”

She nudged the maid beside her, Lan Ying.

Lan Ying stood unmoving, pretending not to notice.

The other maid gave her sleeve a sharp tug.

Forced, Lan Ying followed her out.

Once outside, the first maid shut the door quietly and dragged Lan Ying down the corridor.

Lan Ying’s face darkened. “Didn’t you say we were fetching soup? I’ll get it now.”

She wanted to move faster — as fast as possible — and dump the entire pot down the Prince’s throat if she could. Let him drown in tonic and confusion alike, unable ever again to bewitch her lady!

“Fetch soup? What soup?” The other maid rolled her eyes and pulled her farther away. “The Heir and the Lady finally have a quiet moment together — surely you understand?”

The words made Lan Ying’s ears burn.

“Or perhaps…” The maid leaned close with a teasing smirk. “Perhaps Sister Lan Ying has a little interest in the Heir herself? If so, I could help you.”

Lan Ying felt struck by lightning.

Interest in the Heir?

She must be mad before she’d ever take interest in that silver-tongued fox who had bewitched her lady to this point!

If she felt anything, it was a murderous impulse!

The maid, mistaking her stunned silence, grew bolder and whispered slyly in Lan Ying’s ear.

“…” Lan Ying nearly dropped her jaw. “You want me to climb his bed?”

She might want to separate the Heir and her lady, but certainly not by joining in!

This time it was the maid’s turn to look scandalized. “How can Sister Lan Ying say it so crudely? You’re the Lady’s personal maid — helping her share her burdens is only proper, isn’t it?”

Lan Ying swallowed her disgust, forcing an awkward smile. “I think we’d better concern ourselves more with the Heir’s health. If he’s worn out too quickly, runs dry of strength, and dies on us — what then?”

“…” The maid fell speechless at such bluntness.

Lan Ying seized the excuse of needing to tidy the study and escaped.

The instant she was out of sight, her polite mask dropped entirely.

Before her lady’s marriage, she had opposed it with all her might. No matter how she looked at the Prince’s Heir, she found him displeasing — sickly, elusive, untrustworthy. Yet her lady had insisted, almost quarreling with her for it.

Having grown up together, Lan Ying could not bear to part from her and had pleaded for days until her lady agreed to take her along.

Her lady had said the Heir of Prince Rong was a once-in-a-lifetime soulmate — that his music carried a solitude untouched by the world, a loneliness that drew her in. Even if his heart already held another, he had promised that one day, he would let go.

As she spoke, her eyes glimmered with longing — and a faint, aching pity. The sight had made Lan Ying’s temples throb. She had wanted to pinch someone — her lady, herself, anyone — just to wake from this madness.

Her lady, a legitimate daughter of the Prime Minister’s household, talented and refined, had willingly married such a frail man — and loved him as if her heart could heal him.

And that guilt she carried toward him… of course it came from the “task” she had undertaken.

As the maid born and raised in the Prime Minister’s manor, Lan Ying knew of that “task” all too well.

Knowing only made her feel all the more helpless. Her lady had married with hidden purpose, risking life and honor — all for a man she pitied!

Lan Ying sometimes wanted to look to the heavens and demand which meddlesome deity had dared tie such a blood-tipped red thread.

If she could find that thread, she would tear it apart, grind it beneath her teeth, and set it aflame!

True, she had no proof the Prince’s Heir harbored ulterior motives — only a servant girl’s instinct and fierce loyalty. But watching the man who had dragged her lady into this treacherous marriage, how could she feel anything but resentment?

Still, she knew the truth of their situation — under another’s roof, one must bow one’s head.

And so, no matter how heavy her indignation burned, she could only swallow it down, again and again.

In these past days, Lan Ying had come to believe that every person within the Prince of Rong’s residence possessed eight hundred hidden schemes.

She dared not open her mouth too wide when speaking, for fear that one misplaced word might be caught by the countless fine nets of calculation that filled the air like sand, suffocating her.

Even at night she avoided walking about — afraid that one misstep might send her tumbling over one of those invisible snares scattered everywhere.

Just like that maid earlier who had tried to coax her into “warming the bed” — who knew whose person she was, or what her true intentions might be?

Lan Ying sighed and began tidying her lady’s writing desk to distract herself, forcing her thoughts away from imagining what her lady and that frail fox of a man might be doing at this very moment.

The very picture of it made her chest ache.

At that moment, Li Lu drew Ma Wan gently into his embrace from behind.

“Your Highness…” she whispered, flustered.

“Wan’er,” his soft murmur brushed against her ear, “it is time we had a child.”

Her lashes trembled at his words, and joy bloomed uncontrollably in her heart.

Though he treated her with courtesy and affection, his weak health and the endless affairs of the princely household had meant that, in the half-year since their marriage, their nights together could be counted on one hand.

A child…

This was the first time he had spoken of such a thing of his own accord.

He was a reserved man by nature — this must mean that he had truly accepted her, that he had finally opened his heart to his wife.

Her eyes moistened. She nodded, trembling, and closed them.

Li Lu lowered his head to breathe against the faint fragrance of her neck. “Wan’er,” he whispered, “thank you.”

This was the wife he had chosen when he could not have the one he truly wanted — a woman gentle, sincere, and easily guided.

Everything about her was… perfectly convenient.

Yet when he closed his eyes, another face rose in his mind — one utterly beyond his control.

He thought of that marriage proposal returned by arrow, of the woman standing beneath the moon on the departing boat that night… and his jaw tightened. His lips brushed her neck, and then bit down gently.

Ma Wan’s face flushed crimson. Gathering her courage, she turned in his arms and buried her face against his chest.

The next morning, Ma Wan awoke with a faint smile upon her lips.

Turning, she gazed at the sleeping man beside her and felt utterly content.

Last night, she had sensed it clearly — he had accepted her at last, placed her within his heart. She had not chosen wrongly; her sincerity had not been wasted.

His acceptance had come gradually, and because of that, she felt more secure than ever.

She watched him for a long time before rising quietly from the bed, careful not to wake him.

Before calling her maids, she walked to the window, cast another look at the motionless bed curtains, and, seeing no movement, reached for a small jade bottle. From within, she drew out a folded letter she had hidden the previous night.

Behind her, Li Lu’s eyes were open — awake, calm, and faintly amused.

Unaware, Ma Wan tucked the letter close to her body before dressing.

When the sound of movement reached the outer room, a maid entered to attend her.

“The hour is still early,” Ma Wan whispered. “Do not disturb the Heir.”

After washing and dressing, she went to the study.

The servants of the residence knew the Princess Consort’s habits well: born in a minister’s household, she was scholarly and refined, and rose early each day to read and copy scriptures.

But today, Ma Wan could not bring herself to read.

She took out the wrinkled letter, unfolded it, and after long contemplation, began to write her reply.

She promised her grandfather she would be more “attentive.”

Yet she also insisted that the Prince of Rong’s household bore no disloyalty as the Holy Emperor suspected. The people of Yizhou were simple and content; His Highness of Rong was benevolent and virtuous — a true gentleman, not one to endanger the realm for selfish gain.

She wrote that both the Prince and the Heir must surely know she had been sent as the Holy Emperor’s eyes and ears, and yet they had always treated her with respect and trust, never showing the slightest wariness — proof enough of their integrity.

Her brush moved swiftly as she sought to use her sincerity to clear their name, to dispel suspicion.

When she finally laid the brush aside, Ma Wan breathed softly, her brows filled with quiet hope.

Perhaps Heaven truly favored her — perhaps it would grant her a path where both loyalty and love could coexist.

Since her marriage, all had gone well. Her mother-in-law, though ill, treated her kindly.

The Prince himself, of royal birth, was tolerant and unpretentious, imposing few restraints upon her.

And her husband… had never spoken a harsh word. When busy, he reminded her to care for herself; when free, he played the flute to accompany her reading.

If there was any faint sorrow in her heart, it was only when she heard others speak — too often — of the Ningyuan General.

It was not that others meant to provoke her. The woman’s deeds were simply too dazzling to ignore — a young lady who, by her own strength, had won glory in battle.

Truly a woman worthy of his heart.

She knew she could never compare.

And she knew that somewhere in her husband’s heart, that woman’s shadow still lingered.

But she had no right to complain — he had never lied to her. This path was her own choice.

And now… things were good.

Last night, he had whispered again and again that he wanted a child — their child.

Whatever the past had been, she and he were fated companions, husband and wife.

One day, with a child between them, they would even share blood — bound as true family.

Ma Wan placed a gentle hand upon her still-flat belly, eyes glowing with hope.

“Congratulations, Great Khan! From the pulse, the Queen’s pregnancy is over two months along!”

In the royal palace of Tuyuhun, northwest of Yizhou, the air rang with rejoicing.

“Congratulations to the Khan!”

Murum Yun, ruler of Tuyuhun, beamed with joy as he clasped the Queen’s hand. “Princess — we are to have a child!”

Ming Luo inclined her head slightly, a faint smile upon her lips.

The man before her — open-faced, simple, easily read — was both her husband and Tuyuhun’s ruler, the “talented warrior and statesman” her aunt had so often praised.

At least that much had been true: he treated her with respect, never daring the slightest offense.

She was the County Princess Gu of Da Sheng, raised by the Holy Emperor herself.

Tuyuhun was but a vassal state living under Da Sheng’s shadow; her marriage here was a gift, one for which he should feel eternal gratitude.

She could see his joy was genuine. He should be joyful — he should be honored.

Murum Yun was more than ten years her elder, already past thirty, with sons of twelve and seven.

But those low-born whelps could never compare to the blood she now carried within her.

When the attendants had withdrawn, Ming Luo gently touched her abdomen and murmured, “You must be a son. Otherwise, you will be of no use to me — and should never have come into this world. Do you understand?”

She despised this barren, savage land — so coarse beside the capital’s splendor.

She despised Murum Yun — his dullness, his simpering eagerness to please, made her stomach turn.

Compared to him, even the courtiers who once flattered her in Da Sheng were admirable men — and as for Cui Jing, Murum Yun could never hope to match him.

But she endured. Because she wanted power.

In these six months, she had helped govern Tuyuhun’s affairs, earning some reputation among its ministers — yet to her, it was far from enough.

She would seize every shred of power she could.

No one would ever cast her down again — not the aunt who had discarded her, nor Chang Suining, who had overturned her destiny.

Her slender fingers tightened over her abdomen.

The embroidered feathers on her robe distorted under her grasp, twisting into the shape of a winged creature ready to strike.

At dawn in the capital, a carriage procession departed from Anyi Ward, rolling down the long streets toward the city gate.

“They’re here!”

Waiting beyond the gate, Hu Yi called out, “The Cui family’s carriage — it’s coming!”

Qiao Yubai and several students of the Imperial Academy quickly stepped forward.

“My lady—”

Xiao Qiu, standing by the carriage, saw the curtain lift swiftly from within.

She hurried forward to help Qiao Yumian alight.

(4,300 characters updated — good night!)

 Chapter 317: Only She Deserves to Stand Beside Him (求月票)

“The boy has come.”

The man turned around. His face, though past forty, still bore traces of youthful grace, unmarred by the looseness of age.

His brows and eyes bore a striking resemblance to those of Li Lu — they were father and son indeed.

This man was Prince Rong, Li Yin.

Prince Rong sat at the stone table beneath the ginkgo tree. He lifted the teapot with unhurried grace and poured into two cups. The sound of flowing tea was soft and pleasant; rising steam curled between them as his movements flowed like water — natural, elegant, and composed.

Li Lu stepped forward and, after bowing, sat opposite his father.

The prince poured two full cups before setting the pot down and pushing one cup gently toward his son.

“Thank you, Father.” Li Lu received it respectfully.

By custom, it should have been the son who served tea, but his father never cared for such trivialities.

Having spent many years in the capital before returning to Yizhou the previous year, he seemed unchanged despite the long separation.

In childhood, Li Lu had often thought his father unlike the other imperial princes — freer, more like a wandering swordsman, unconcerned with rank or formality, living above worldly dust.

And if even his own son saw him that way, how much more must others have thought so?

Li Lu took a few sips of tea before speaking. “Father, the noble clans of Luoyang and Xingyang have dispersed, and Cui Jing has been expelled from the Cui family. Now—”

“I already know of these matters,” Prince Rong interrupted softly. “There is no need to dwell on them. Tell me instead about this Ningyuan General.”

He had long been familiar with that young woman’s name.

But it was only after a series of incidents — each overturning his plans — that he began to take her seriously.

Such a person, a mere seventeen-year-old girl who rose out of nowhere and continually changed the course of events… how could she not stir one’s curiosity?

Li Lu inclined his head.

He skipped the tales everyone already knew and began from their first encounter in the capital the previous year.

At Dayun Temple, she tamed the raging sacred elephant.

By the river behind the temple, they first spoke face to face.

Then came the Polo match at the Imperial Academy, the painting contest at Dengtai Tower, and the day she tamed the late Crown Prince’s warhorse in the Hibiscus Garden’s training field.

He proposed marriage at the hibiscus feast — she refused.

Later, when Chang Sui’an was unjustly imprisoned, she declined his offer to work together to save him. Instead, at the Confucian Ceremony in the Temple of Learning, she forced the Holy Emperor to yield through her own design.

And finally —

She pretended to consider his proposal, then on the boat seized him and leapt into the water, escaping with Fan Ou. Using the truth of the Prince of Huainan’s death as leverage, she forced him to spare General Chang Kuo.

Prince Rong set down his cup halfway through, his gaze thoughtful.

“So, that young lady — it seems she can always turn a dead end into life through unthinkable means… and to tame Ah Xiao’s warhorse, that is no small feat.”

“Judging from her character and conduct,” Li Lu said, “when she swore to kill Xu Zhengye within seventy-three days, it was neither boasting nor gambling — she truly believed she could do it.”

Prince Rong’s brow arched slightly. “But…”

As he spoke, a green ginkgo leaf fluttered down from above. Before it could touch the tea, he flicked his sleeve — the leaf drifted aside and landed near Li Lu’s feet.

Trained in martial arts since youth, his perception and reflexes were unmatched.

His thoughts did not pause. “But before last year, she had never once been on the battlefield. From where came such confidence — such absolute conviction that she could kill Xu Zhengye?”

Was she, as the rumors said, a born general?

He had met such people before — with an arrogance born not of ignorance, but of power — like his niece, Li Shang.

Yet even Li Shang had built her fearlessness upon ten years of relentless discipline. None were born invincible.

True confidence comes only from experience — from a record of victories.

So this young woman of the Chang family was far from simple… and perhaps even more peculiar.

“In any case,” he murmured, “such a figure appears once in a century.”

A faint sigh followed. “She should have married into our Rong Prince’s household, to walk the great path beside us. A pity…”

“Father.”

Sensing the murderous intent in his father’s tone, Li Lu quickly interjected, “It was my own misstep. I pressed too hard and provoked her, which caused her resentment and made the marriage impossible.”

“Chang Suining’s displeasure lies only with my manner, not with the Rong Prince’s household itself,” he said earnestly. “Please, Father, give the Chang family another chance.”

Prince Rong poured fresh tea, thinking.

Li Lu continued, “Over these years, most of the capable commanders under the feudal lords have been purged by the Empress. That is why you have long urged me to win over General Chang Kuo.

“But now it seems the Chang family offers not one, but three worth cultivating — General Chang Kuo, his daughter Chang Suining, and his son Chang Sui’an, who also shows great promise. The Chang family is worthy of our patience.”

Prince Rong remained silent, sipping tea.

Li Lu pressed on. “Besides, after the wrongful imprisonment of Chang Sui’an, the rift between the Chang family and the Empress can never be mended. When a ruler suspects and a subject loses trust, loyalty dies. The Changs will not remain without a second allegiance — they must be watching and waiting.”

“When the time comes and the tide turns, if Father extends goodwill, the Chang family will surely align with us.”

He was certain of it. For in the coming upheaval, the Changs would have no better choice.

If they did not submit to the rightful Li clan, would they rebel and crown themselves?

This was still Li family’s empire. For an outsider to revolt without foundation or legitimacy — that would be madness and self-destruction.

Xu Zhengye’s fall was merely one piece removed from the board — the game itself remained unchanged.

This empire was destined to return to the House of Rong.

And she — was destined to be his.

All his life, he desired only what stood at the highest peak — the most useful, the most glorious.

The higher she rose, the more exceptional she appeared; and the more exceptional she became, the stronger his desire grew.

That desire had taken root the moment she shot back his marriage letter — and with each passing day, it deepened.

She never ceased to surprise him; each time he saw her anew, he realized he had underestimated her once more.

And such a woman — only she deserved to stand beside him.

He would never allow his father to kill her.

Prince Rong smiled faintly. “You seem particularly invested in this young lady.”

“Yes,” Li Lu replied calmly. “Because she is worth it. I believe that, should you one day meet her, you will think the same.”

Prince Rong chuckled. “Very well. Let us test her — see how much courage she truly has.”

If she dared to become another Xu Zhengye, then perhaps she could finish what Xu Zhengye could not.

This realm was a feast, and he needed ambitious souls to stir its chaos — only in chaos could a savior emerge.

He had spent ten years preparing to be that savior.

Hearing his father’s consent, Li Lu smiled. “Father, she will not disappoint you.”

Then he raised another matter. “Father, about Cui Jing…”

The affair in Taiyuan had failed, and the recent assassination attempt as well.

“Two failures in short succession — best to remain still for now,” Prince Rong mused. “That man is far from ordinary. We must not underestimate him. But since the Cui clan has now expelled him, we shall first observe how the Empress reacts.”

“Yes,” said Li Lu. “But I fear Cui Jing may already suspect Father’s involvement. If he reveals this to the Cui family, and they learn you once sought his death—”

“Let them know.” Prince Rong laughed softly. “I wished him dead for my own reasons, not against the Cui clan itself. And in any case, there are no eternal enemies in this world. The Cuis would not spurn the Rong Prince’s house over such trifles. Their kind endure a century precisely because they put interest above sentiment.”

Li Lu hesitated, then asked, “And the Empress? Fan Ou is still in Chang Suining’s hands. She is perceptive — if she uncovers our agents and exposes the Rong Prince’s schemes…”

“If she is truly clever,” said Prince Rong with calm amusement, “she will realize that revealing or concealing changes nothing. Xu Zhengye is dead, Li Tong slain — the facts already exist. There is no new value in repeating them.”

Did she really think the Holy Emperor needed her to tell her such things?

The Empress’s suspicion of the Rong Prince’s house had never once waned.

“Would the Holy Emperor truly move against us over rumors that anyone could invent?” he said lightly. “Without irrefutable proof, any rash accusation would only make her look like a tyrant bent on destroying the imperial clan.

“And even if she did strike — times have changed. A single decree cannot kill me now.”

When decrees ceased to command obedience, the emperor’s authority began to crumble.

And that collapse had already begun, unseen.

Would he now meekly enter the capital to face judgment? Ignore all voices calling to restore the Li lineage’s rightful power?

If she forced a confrontation, she would only hasten her own downfall.

No — it was not the Rong Prince’s house that should fear.

“The world is no longer as it once was,” he said gently. “You are safe here with me now. This is no longer the weak, cornered Rong Prince’s estate it once was.”

His eyes softened with rare guilt. “You have suffered much in the capital, my son.”

Li Lu lowered his gaze. “As heir to the Rong Prince’s house, it is my duty to share Father’s burdens.”

The prince nodded approvingly. “When the great endeavor is complete, half the merit shall be yours.”

The two continued their quiet talk over tea for a long while.

Then a young man in blue military garb approached and bowed. “My Lord, Young Master.”

Prince Rong looked up. “Yi Cong, you’ve returned.”

Li Lu rose at once. “It’s getting late; I won’t disturb Father further.”

“Take care of your health,” said the prince. “Remember your medicine and rest early.”

Li Lu bowed and withdrew. Passing by the young man, he paused for a moment.

Yi Cong saluted. “Safe journey, Young Master.”

Li Lu inclined his head and left with his servant.

After several steps, he turned and looked back.

Prince Rong and Yi Cong were walking together toward the study.

Yi Cong was barely seventeen or eighteen — still a youth, though with a steadiness that made him seem older.

It was said he had been with the prince for five years and was much favored, often assisting with military matters.

Watching them disappear into the study, Li Lu turned back. His servant quickly averted his eyes, but Li Lu asked quietly, “What is it? You’ve heard that rumor too?”

The servant paled and bowed hurriedly. “This humble one dares not! I know nothing—”

Li Lu smiled faintly but said nothing more, resuming his steps.

The servant, anxious to recover, offered softly, “The wind is rising, Young Master. You mustn’t catch a chill. Allow me to accompany you back to your quarters.”

Li Lu smiled again and nodded. “Very well.”

As they walked, he slowly turned his hands under his cloak. They were thin, pale, almost sickly — hands that looked incapable of harm.

Once, that frailty had been the perfect disguise in the capital.

But now that he had returned to Yizhou, it was a burden.

His father’s aides often looked at him with silent doubt and pity.

He knew he would not die easily, but in their eyes, his life already burned short. They could not entrust their hopes to one so frail.

He needed something more enduring — something others could see.

By the time he returned to his residence, dusk had fallen. Maids were lighting lamps throughout the courtyard.

At the sound of footsteps, Lan Ying, the maid of his wife Ma Wan, hurried inside to whisper, “My lady — the Young Master has returned!”

Though married into the Rong Prince’s household for half a year, Lan Ying still habitually called her mistress “My lady.”

Ma Wan’s face changed at once. Startled, she hastily rolled up the letter she’d been reading and slipped it into a jade vase by the window.

Moments later, footsteps approached.

She composed herself and curtsied as Li Lu entered. “My lord, you’ve returned.”

Li Lu smiled gently and took her hand. “Wan’er, what were you just doing?”

 Chapter 316: All of This Was His Doing (Supplementary Chapter — 5,000 Words)

Deputy Commander Dong pressed his lips tightly together, his eyes locked on the young woman seated before him, as if trying to discern some clue from her calm expression.

“If you and your men truly served Xu Zhengye,” said Chang Suining lightly, “then as you said, since your master is already dead, why risk killing that man to silence him? What secrets could there still be to protect?”

Her gaze shifted briefly to the corpse lying on the floor.

Dong sneered. “I only feared he would expose me.”

“If it were only that,” she replied, “you could have escaped long before. Why come here to throw yourself into the net?”

Chang Suining shook her head. “No — the truth is, between the two of you, you were the superior and he the subordinate. If he spoke words that should not be spoken, the fault would fall on you. You would bear punishment. You might escape the army camp, but you cannot escape the hands of your true master. That is why you came, knowing the danger, because you had no choice.”

At her words, the restrained man struggled fiercely. “Let me go!”

To Chang Suining, this struggle was nothing more than the flailing of a man whose fear had been seen through.

She asked softly, “After all this, are you not curious how I learned you were a spy?”

Dong’s eyes flicked up to hers, and she smiled faintly. “Or perhaps you dare not be curious?”

Their gazes met, silent tension thickening between them.

She did not rush — simply waited, letting quiet and time gnaw away at his composure.

How had she come to suspect him?

It began back in the Shouzhou military camp.

When Xiao Min replaced Li Yi as commander, this man had been outwardly respectful, ever ready to serve. Gradually, he had managed to attach himself to Xiao Min’s side — treating him as if he were another Li Yi to manipulate.

He followed orders to the letter, but behind the scenes, whispered poisonous words, trying to sow discord between Xiao Min, her, and old Chang.

But the fool had misjudged everything. The ones he sought to divide were, in truth, of one mind.

And so, the more he whispered, the clearer his guilt became. Xiao Min, instead of being swayed, turned around and warned her and Chang Kuo to be on guard.

Later, when the army temporarily halted its advance, this man had repeatedly inquired about troop movements. Again, Xiao Min secretly reported his behavior.

So when the battle of Bian River began, she and Xiao Min deliberately left him behind in Shouzhou, ordering Chang Kuo to keep watch.

Yet somehow, another spy — Zhong Si — emerged instead.

After their victory, when matters finally calmed, she decided to investigate both cases thoroughly.

She sent men back to Xuanzhou to fetch Fan Ou, while also writing to Chang Kuo — thus, it was Chang Kuo who instructed this same Deputy Commander Dong to deliver a message to the Bianzhou camp.

This entire “mission,” in fact, had been her trap. She had privately informed Xiao Min, giving Dong the very chance to volunteer for the escort.

And as expected, he took the bait.

The result of that test was now before her eyes.

That was the truth — yet at this moment, truth was useless. What she needed was a lie convincing enough to break him.

“Someone had already told me your true identity long ago,” she said evenly.

Dong gave a low, disdainful laugh.

“You don’t believe me?” she asked, then turned to the doorway. “Bring him in.”

Moments later, Jian Tong entered, escorting another man — with Chang Sui'an following close behind.

The newcomer was forced to his knees beside Dong.

It was Fan Ou.

He knelt weakly, both hands on the ground, his hair and beard disheveled, his face haggard beyond recognition.

Dong turned his head briefly, glanced once, and looked away. His expression did not change. No shock, no panic — only cold contempt. “I don’t know this man.”

At Chang Suining’s signal, Jian Tong took a token from Fan Ou’s robe and tossed it to the ground before Dong.

“Careless of me,” she said lightly, “he’s become a bit unkempt — not easy to recognize. But surely, you recognize the token of the Prince of Rong’s residence?”

Dong stared straight ahead, jaw clenched. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ah,” said Chang Suining softly, “so when I captured Fan Ou, Li Lu must have immediately sent word across the network — to warn every hidden agent that I might use Fan Ou’s name against you. No wonder you aren’t surprised to see him here.”

Fan Ou, after all, had been one of Li Lu’s most trusted aides in the Prince of Rong’s household. She remembered Li Lu saying that Fan Ou had once been responsible for liaising with the army’s internal agents during the late Prince of Huainan’s birthday celebrations.

Such a man’s capture would have shaken any cautious leader — and Li Lu was nothing if not cautious.

Dong said nothing. He only sneered, as though dismissing her words as fabrication.

But Chang Suining went on calmly, “So, Li Lu must have also told you that Fan Ou’s mouth is sealed — that he would never betray you. You were told not to panic, only to stay alert… am I right?”

At that, Dong’s expression flickered. Her words were too precise — as if she had overheard the conversation itself.

“The man is stubborn indeed,” she continued lazily, reclining in her chair, “but perseverance wins all things. And he did not merely name you—”

Fan Ou lifted his head with effort, glaring up at her — teeth gritted in mute fury at the lies she spoke.

She met his gaze, smiling as though amused.

Then, in a clear voice, she began to list the “confessions” she had fabricated.

“You secretly passed messages to Li Yi,” she said, “warning him that His Majesty planned to replace General He Wei, thus allowing Li Yi to set an ambush and kill He Wei — that’s one crime.”

“You poisoned Prince of Huainan Li Tong, nearly causing Huainan Circuit to fall — that’s another.”

“You leaked the Imperial army’s grain-transport routes to Xu Zhengye, leading to the ambush and loss of provisions — a third.”

The more Dong listened, the darker his face grew. He turned sharply toward Fan Ou — and the man said nothing.

Not a single word of denial.

Fan Ou turned his head toward him, eyes wide and desperate — he wanted to refute her lies, but whatever drug had been forced upon him rendered him utterly mute.

He had said nothing!

He tried to convey this through his eyes, but Deputy Commander Dong could not understand.

Yet that clear, unhurried voice continued:

“Also—when the Military Governor of Hedong, Xiao Chuan, lured Grand General Cui Jing to Bingzhou under false pretenses, claiming to handle the case of Prefect Dai Cong, he was plotting to seize Taiyuan. When his plan failed, he blamed it all on Xu Zhengye, saying he had been Xu’s co-conspirator… Tell me, how many crimes has Xu Zhengye been made to bear for your Prince of Rong’s residence?”

Fan Ou’s eyes widened in shock — How could she even know of this?!

Chang Suining met his gaze, smiling faintly with a knowing arch of her brow.

Fan Ou’s expression collapsed.

This treacherous woman was baiting him — testing his reactions!

Deputy Commander Dong’s face, however, had already changed completely. He turned toward Fan Ou, rage blazing in his eyes — this man had betrayed the Prince!

Fan Ou glared back fiercely, nearly frantic. You fool—!

Chang Suining did not think Deputy Commander Dong was truly stupid. If he had been, she would not have needed to expend such effort.

After all, she had spoken so many secrets, and Fan Ou had not denied a single word —

and given Dong’s position as a Sixth-Rank officer within the army, while Fan Ou served mostly in Yizhou, the two had little direct contact. He would not know how firm Fan Ou’s loyalty truly ran.

If Li Lu had nine parts of trust in Fan Ou, then Dong would have had, at most, two.

Now that small measure of trust had wavered — just as she intended.

Sowing discord was an art in which she had always excelled.

And now, she decided to strike the final spark.

“Fan Ou also told me,” she said softly, “that your Prince of Rong doesn’t only covet Taiyuan — the cradle of the dragon’s pulse — but also Grand General Cui Jing’s life.”

Her fingertip tapped the scabbard beside her.

“Before the battle at Bian River, it was thanks to Fan Ou’s warning that I sent word to Cui Jing in time — otherwise, he would have fallen to your assassins.”

As she spoke, Ah Che dragged a nearly lifeless black-clad man from the inner room.

The man lay on the ground, his breath faint. Ah Che pulled up his sleeve, revealing the tattoo on his inner arm — the secret sigil used only by the Prince of Rong’s death guards.

Chang Suining herself might not have known what it meant. Cui Jing, too, was unaware.

But Deputy Commander Dong recognized it at a glance.

He had worked closely with these men for years — this tattoo was how they verified one another’s identity.

Hearing her claim that Fan Ou had exposed the assassination plot, seeing that mark before him — the evidence piled upon confusion — Dong could no longer restrain his reaction.

Her words made him move; his movement confirmed her words.

The answer in Chang Suining’s heart settled.

Fan Ou’s jaw clenched so tightly he nearly shattered his teeth.

This woman’s schemes nested one inside another — she had ensnared them all with nothing but air!

Her gaze swept slowly over the three men — Fan Ou, Dong, and the dying assassin.

Any one of them alone would have taken half a day of interrogation to extract even a sliver of uncertain truth.

Together, they had revealed it all within moments.

Finally, she looked to Deputy Commander Dong. “You serve the Prince of Rong,” she said. “Will you still deny it?”

Dong said nothing, his face set and dark.

“If you still refuse,” she said evenly, “then I’ll simply deliver all three of you — along with Fan Ou’s confession — to the Holy Emperor. That, too, would count as great merit.”

Her tone now held no hint of patience. “Men—”

“Wait!” Dong shouted, breaking her command.

She looked toward him.

He glanced around, confirming that those present were all her loyal aides, then said at last, “General Ningyuan, you are a clever woman. Why be so blind? Why cling to that dying demon-empress and stand against my Prince?”

Fan Ou shut his eyes in despair.

Chang Suining’s finger, still resting lightly upon her sword, went still.

Her doubts were gone.

So—it truly was him.

The unseen hand that stirred the chaos from the shadows.

The one who delighted in upheaval, who sought to tear the realm apart.

He was Li Yin—her uncle.

Her free-spirited, unambitious uncle, the one who had once taught her how to protect herself, who had once laughed and said they were “kindred souls in misfortune.”

Dong went on heatedly, “The demon-empress has lost Heaven’s mandate! Her reign is ending! My Prince alone bears the true blood of the Li clan!”

“My Prince has always respected Grand General Chang,” he pressed. “You could achieve great things together!”

Chang Sui'an frowned deeply, glancing at his sister.

“Respected?” Chang Suining echoed with a faint smile. “Do you mean the way the Prince’s heir repeatedly threatened my father’s and brother’s lives?”

The Prince of Rong’s household, while pretending alliance, had sought to manipulate General Chang Kuo — respected by all within the Xuanzhe Army — while secretly plotting to kill Cui Jing and seize control of his men.

The scattered clues now wove themselves into a single, sinister design.

But they had failed — the Chang family was too loyal to be swayed, and Cui Jing far too difficult to kill.

Their plan to seize Taiyuan had collapsed, their attempt to let Xu Zhengye plunge the world into chaos had crumbled as well.

“Those who achieve greatness do not quibble over trifles,” Dong said coldly. “General Ningyuan, this concerns the survival of your clan. Ask General Chang himself — let him decide!”

“So,” she said softly, “what you mean is: submit and live, or defy and die?”

Her gaze turned faintly sharp. “Even now, with your life in my hands, you dare to threaten me. Is this the arrogance of your Prince’s household?”

It had never been about “shared enterprise.” They merely wanted the Chang family to wield the blade on their behalf — to die for them if need be.

From that arrogance, she could see clearly how vast the Prince’s hidden strength must already be.

“Do not act out of pride, General Ningyuan,” Dong said, the corner of his mouth twisting in disdain. “Such matters should be left for your father to decide.”

“What great matter?” she replied lightly. “A trivial one like this — I can decide it myself.”

He frowned, opening his mouth to argue — but she cut him off:

“I could consider your offer,” she said, “if you answer one question.”

Seeing hope, he steadied himself. “Ask.”

“Who,” she asked, “is the most secret spy the Prince of Rong has planted beside the Holy Emperor?”

“This kind of matter,” he said at once, “is beyond me. I merely follow orders. If you truly wish to cooperate, you may ask the Prince or his heir yourself.”

Ask them? she thought. As if I would ever kneel to such men.

Chang Suining rose to her feet. “Since you don’t know, there’s no point continuing.”

He stared in disbelief. “You treat such a matter so lightly—?”

But she had already crossed the threshold, sword in hand, her voice cool and unhurried as she gave her order:

“Take them away. Kill them all.”

“Yes, General!”

Chang Sui'an stood frozen, watching her departing figure.

This sister of his — he had never seen her like this before. Words like “calm” or “resolute” seemed far too pale to describe her now.

Then her voice drifted back: “Leave Fan Ou alive. See to his recovery.”

Dong’s face turned bloodless with disbelief.

Moments later, he and the assassin were dragged away, the corpse lifted soon after.

Fan Ou, watching them go, felt a pitiful surge of envy — for once, he wanted to be among those carried off.

He didn’t want to stay. He didn’t want to heal.

But Jian Tong gripped his arms and dragged him from the hall as he sagged bonelessly, despair hollowing him out.

After arranging everything, Chang Sui'an hurried to catch up with his sister. “Ning Ning…”

“If you have time,” she said, turning to him, “go to Grand General Cui and tell him everything we learned today.”

“Oh—yes!” He agreed quickly. He wanted to say more, but the words failed him.

She paused, met his eyes, and said quietly, “Don’t worry, Brother. No one will ever again decide for the Chang family. From this day forward, we will decide our own path.”

Sunlight streamed through the trees, gilding her face and eyes with molten gold.

He remembered the prison, the chains that bound him, and how she had broken them — how she had led him from that cage of injustice.

Now, her words felt like a promise: that there would be no more chains, no more cages.

He realized suddenly that it was his sister who had been protecting him — and she had done so well.

But he did not want her to stand alone against the storm.

That thought, half-formed before, now hardened into resolve.

The world was chaos, every man and woman grasping for power — and if they wished to stand firm, they must become strong themselves.

His eyes reddened as he nodded fiercely. “Yes… from now on, we decide for ourselves!”

If strength was what it took to do so, then he would grow strong — quickly.

He might not be as brilliant as his sister, but as her elder brother, he would not be found wanting.

Under the bright sun, the siblings exchanged a smile.

And beyond his shoulder, Chang Suining squinted toward the blazing golden sun — her decision clear at last.

Since the storm of fate could not be avoided — since no one could remain untouched — and since she refused to entrust her dignity, her loved ones, or the crumbling realm itself to those she despised…

Then she would take it upon herself.

After all — she could trust herself.

…

A gentle breeze stirred the ginkgo leaves, scattering shimmering patches of light.

Beneath that dappled shade stood a man, his face half-lit, half-shadowed.

His hair was neatly bound, his dark blue robe flowing, his bearing serene — as if the tree and the man together formed a painting of tranquil grace.

This was Yizhou — the Prince of Rong’s residence.

Footsteps sounded.

“Father.”

A tall, lean young man in a cloak stepped forward and bowed deeply to him.

(End of Chapter 317)