Chapter 295: Hello Chang'an
Chapter 295: Liuhuo, Come Here
Chang Suining and Cui Jing left the front hall together. As soon as they stepped into the corridor, they heard the sound of approaching footsteps and the scattered clatter of hooves at the far end.
Before long, Chang Suining saw two of Cui Jing’s personal guards leading several horses toward them.
She paused, peering through the dim corridor light to make out the figures.
When the two guards caught sight of Cui Jing, they immediately understood and released the reins and bits of the three horses.
Freed at last, the youngest of the horses shook its coat restlessly, snorting hot breath with a sharp “pff, pff.”
It pawed the ground, eager to move forward—but noticed that its father had suddenly frozen in place, staring fixedly ahead.
Eh? What’s he looking at?
Curious, the young horse stepped closer to see what had caught his father’s attention.
Two figures stood in the distance. One of them spoke tentatively, “Liuhuo?”
At the sound of that name, the chestnut-red stallion’s eyes widened, ears pricked upright—and with a joyful whinny, it reared on its forelegs.
Now sure of it, Chang Suining laughed and called again, “Liuhuo!”
Liuhuo no longer hesitated. He broke into a gallop toward her, bounding and tossing his head in excitement, hooves tapping like a lion at festival dance.
Watching this, the young horse Guiqi stared wide-eyed. In his ears echoed the words his mother always used to soothe him after his father kicked him half to death—You must understand, your father has fought on battlefields all his life. He’s a proud warhorse, stern and silent, never bows his head.
And yet… right now, that proud father looked exactly like a silly, tail-wagging dog!
Guiqi could hardly believe it. With a clatter of hooves, he trotted forward to see for himself.
Liuhuo reached Chang Suining, lowered his head, and gently pressed it against her shoulder.
She wrapped both arms around his neck.
Liuhuo let out a low, trembling whimper.
Guiqi froze, terror flashing in his large eyes—what was that sound? Was his old father whining?
He stepped forward again, and the moment he saw Chang Suining, realization dawned. Ah, so it’s her.
The woman stretched out a hand toward him, meaning to pat his head.
But Guiqi was not so easily moved!
He raised his head proudly and took two steps back.
The next instant, a powerful shove from behind sent him stumbling forward—his proud head shoved straight beneath that woman’s “evil claws.”
Guiqi snorted in indignation, flicking his tail hard against the culprit behind him—his mother.
“Little Guiqi, we meet again,” Chang Suining said with a smile, rubbing his head.
Guiqi snorted through his nostrils in protest.
“How majestic you’ve become,” she praised. “Just as imposing as your father once was.”
Guiqi seemed to understand; he lifted his neck higher, looking even prouder.
Liuhuo, disgusted by his insolent son, lashed out with a swift kick—how dare this brat steal the Princess’s attention! Didn’t know when to be grateful? He’d show him!
Guiqi neighed in outrage.
Chang Suining quickly stepped between father and son, laughing as she intervened. “Now, now, they say discipline breeds filial sons—but when the child’s grown, one should still spare him a bit of face.”
Liuhuo snorted twice, then turned his head to nuzzle her palm.
Chang Suining looked at the sturdy bay mare standing nearby, her eyes gentle and bright. “...All of them acquired through dereliction of duty?” she asked wryly.
Cui Jing gave a brief “mm”: “If stealing they must be, then stolen they are.”
It was a dry joke between them. As Commander of the Xuanzhe Army, Cui Jing hardly needed to “steal” a few horses.
“All of them for me?” Chang Suining asked.
“Would you refuse?” he replied.
Liuhuo gazed at her imploringly—as if to say, You know, I’ve been away from my mother since I was a colt. I’ve fought by your side through life and death...
“It seems I can’t refuse,” she said softly, wiping the fine mist of rain clinging to his lashes with her sleeve. Liuhuo closed his eyes, ears laid back in comfort, like a tame rabbit enjoying her touch.
“But I am very poor now,” she said. “Following me means hardship.”
“No matter,” Cui Jing said seriously. “I have saved enough through the years to provide for them. I’ll send it all to you later—so you need not worry about their feed or care.”
“They’ll have to travel far and wide with me,” she said, glancing at the aging Liuhuo. “I had thought to steal him away only after I settled down.”
Cui Jing looked at Liuhuo as well. “He has fought half his life and cannot bear confinement. His temper is fierce—he recognizes no second master. Though well cared for these years, he has never been so content as he is now.”
“So I thought, for him, true peace means following you.”
Liuhuo was old; each day with him was precious. The world was uncertain, and missing this last chance to stay together would be a regret for both horse and master alike.
Liuhuo lowered its head and rubbed against the Yaori Sword in Chang Suining’s hand.
The sword was here, it was here, Her Highness was here—everything seemed to have returned to how it once was.
A deep sense of peace and contentment welled up within it.
Chang Suining looked at the scene and smiled faintly.
“You’re right. I’ve made Liuhuo wait far too long.”
It seemed she would have to push herself harder.
Looking at Liuhuo and its little family, Chang Suining suddenly felt that she was now someone with dependents of her own.
As the head of this little household, she must find a stable place for her battle-hardened Lord Liuhuo to enjoy his retirement in peace.
“Do you know the name of Guiqi’s mother?” she asked. “Does she have one?”
“She does. It’s Sishi.” Cui Jing replied.
“Sishi…” Chang Suining repeated softly.
Sishi, Guiqi—was it meant to mean ‘Waiting for return through all seasons’?
At the sound of her voice, Sishi also stepped forward.
Chang Suining smiled and reached out to stroke its ear.
Looking at Liuhuo’s tidy little family, she felt her heart soar with joy.
Tonight, she had met many old friends.
At this moment, she felt rich—content—and happy.
In the past, whether she was very happy or deeply upset, she would either drink heartily or find someone to spar with.
Now, wine was forbidden to her.
She turned to Cui Jing. “Do you have your sword with you?”
Cui Jing nodded.
“Then may I trouble you to spar with me for a bit?”
Chang Suining raised her sword hand, a bright smile at her brow.
“I’d like to see for myself how skilled the current general of the Xuanzhe Army has become.”
Cui Jing drew the sword from beneath his cloak and saluted.
“Then, Your Highness, please grant me your instruction.”
It had been more than ten years since her Yaori Sword was last unsheathed.
That she did so tonight—for him—was an honor beyond words.
In a moment, they stood facing each other.
Then both drew their swords.
The Yaori Sword gleamed bright as snow.
Cui Jing’s long sword shone dark as ink.
At some point, rain had started again outside the corridor, falling in silvery threads.
Both were clad in blue robes—hers pale, his deep.
The girl in pale blue was like a bamboo stalk, her swordlight like snowflakes slicing through raindrops, carrying mist as it swept toward the young man.
The man in dark blue was like a cypress, his swordlight deep as an abyss. As their blades clashed, fierce currents of sword energy whirled through the corridor.
Sword shadows intertwined, the sound of steel like a whistling wind.
One’s moves were nimble, the other’s steady—complementary, evenly matched, impossible to tell who held the advantage.
Liuhuo had led its mate and foal away to the hall entrance, forcing its son to watch carefully.
The duel lasted for two quarters of an hour before it ended.
Chang Suining sheathed her sword, a fine sheen of sweat at her brow.
A few strands of hair clung to her cheek. “This round, you win.”
“Not really,” said Cui Jing, returning his sword to its sheath.
“It was not a true victory—only that your strength gave out first.”
“I’d have lost if we went on,” she said between breaths, resting her sword against the railing and sitting down to recover. “Lack of stamina is still a weakness. I’m not the sort who can’t admit defeat.”
“For just one year’s recovery, this is already remarkable,” Cui Jing said as he came over, took her sword, and slipped it neatly back into its scabbard before handing it back.
“Next time, you’ll surely beat me.”
Chang Suining raised her brows. “I think so too.”
The rain blew slantwise into the corridor, carrying the fragrance of wet spring earth and the vitality of budding plants.
When the rain finally stopped, Chang Suining and Cui Jing left the villa.
On the road out, Liuhuo lectured its son the whole way—mostly urging him to seize his opportunities.
Guiqi wished he could cover his ears.
At the gate, Yuan Xiang brought their horses.
Just as Chang Suining took the reins to mount, Guiqi suddenly barged forward and shoved the other horse aside, full of domineering vigor.
It never listened to reason, but if another horse challenged it, it became downright spirited.
What spirited stallion didn’t have a bit of temper?
Guiqi pawed the ground twice toward her, signaling.
Chang Suining laughed and vaulted onto its back.
In an instant, Guiqi shot forward like an arrow loosed from its bowstring.
The displaced horse stood there in confusion until Cui Jing and his men mounted and rode out, then followed.
Liuhuo galloped after them, chasing Chang Suining.
It soon overtook Cui Jing’s group and saw, ahead, that rider and steed—it felt as if it saw its younger self again, proud and untamed.
But it soon realized—it couldn’t keep up.
It had grown old.
It could no longer catch its unruly son—nor its princess.
Then, a moment later, the rider ahead turned back.
Chang Suining reined Guiqi around and smiled.
“Liuhuo—come!”
Liuhuo perked up, shook the rain from its mane, and sprinted forward with renewed spirit.
By now, Chang Suining had fully mastered Guiqi’s temperament.
The three—woman and two horses—rode side by side all the way back.
By the time they reached the Prefect’s mansion, it was already midnight.
After parting with Cui Jing, Chang Suining personally entrusted Liuhuo’s family to Ah Che’s care.
After a hot bath, she changed into soft inner robes, climbed into bed, lowered the bed curtains, and lifted the quilt—
Her Yaori Sword lay hidden beneath.
That night, Chang Suining fell asleep holding her sword—and dreamed sweetly all night long.
Several days later, a Sacred Edict arrived in Bian Prefecture.
The Holy Emperor, in high spirits, praised the merits of Chang Suining, Xiao Min, and their soldiers—especially commending Chang Suining for slaying Xu Zhengye.
It further decreed that Li Xian was to purge Xu Zhengye’s remaining faction in Luoyang; Cui Jing was to lead the Xuanzhe Army to guard the city to maintain order.
Meanwhile, once Xiao Min’s army had rested and their warships were refitted in sufficient number, he and General Ningyuan Chang Suining were to march south along the Huainan route to join forces with Chang Kuo and reclaim the cities of Yangzhou, Jiangning, and the remaining southern territories still occupied by Xu Zhengye’s remnants.
When all was accomplished, they were to lead the combined armies back to the capital via Huainan, where the court would hold a great ceremony to bestow rewards and titles upon the meritorious.
Chang Suining, Cui Jing, Xiao Min, and Li Xian received the decree together.
By rights, after receiving such an order, Chang Suining should have departed Bian Prefecture at once to join Xiao Min in Huainan. She herself also intended to return south to finish what remained.
But the unexpected happened.
Bian Prefecture was struck by relentless rain for several days—
the army could not move.
At first, the downpour was merely an inconvenience, but gradually, Chang Suining’s expression grew solemn as she stood beneath the corridor, watching the sheets of rain.
Then Yao Ran hurried over, soaked despite her umbrella.
She produced a sealed letter from within her robe.
“General, a confidential dispatch from the capital—sent by Uncle Ren.”
Chang Suining tore it open.
It was in Wu Jue’s handwriting.
Only a few short lines—he had read the stars and the winds, and foreseen that the Central Plains might soon face flood disasters. Knowing she was in Bian Prefecture, he sent this warning in advance.
The date showed it had been written six days earlier—just as the first signs of this heavy rain had appeared.
Chang Suining frowned and immediately went to see Prefect Hu to urge early preparations for potential flooding.
Hu Lin had already ordered minor precautions—inspecting old houses and dangerous mountain paths—but little more. Now, hearing Chang Suining’s grave tone, he asked her reasoning.
“A master skilled in reading the heavens sent a warning,” she said frankly. “He is not infallible, but seven or eight of his ten predictions prove true. Such matters, though uncertain, concern great danger. Better to prepare than regret.”
Hu Lin considered, then nodded.
The safety of the people outweighed all.
He immediately ordered preparations for flood control and personally inspected the granaries.
Soon after, the prefectural office issued public warnings to the populace.
At first, few believed it—
until two more days passed, and the rain still did not stop, only worsened. Houses began to collapse.
Disasters struck not only Bian Prefecture but also Luoyang, Xingyang, and other nearby regions. The Gu River and Luo River overflowed, even destroying the Fengxian Palace that the Holy Emperor had ordered built in the Luoyang palace complex. Over ten palace maids perished.
The Fengxian Palace had been under construction for over a year, meant as a place of divine blessing for the Da Sheng Dynasty—its destruction terrified the Luoyang officials.
Rumors spread overnight, especially among Luoyang’s entrenched noble clans opposed to the Holy Emperor.
Whispers quickly circulated among the people—
that Heaven had turned against the Holy Emperor, and the flood was divine punishment for her misdeeds.
Li Xian, already interrogating remnants of Luoyang’s aristocrats, heard of these rumors. To calm the panic, after discussion with his advisers and the frightened officials of Luoyang, he made a fateful decision—
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