A squad of scouts reached the borders of Qingping County. From afar, they saw flames engulfing the entire town and were shocked to the core.

The well-trained scouts dismounted, intending to investigate, when along the rugged path they spotted more than a dozen old people, women, and children—stumbling and supporting one another as they walked in their direction…

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

Lucheng.

At dawn, a rider on a swift horse sped toward the Yan Prefecture army camp like a shooting star.

“The entire Qingping County has been slaughtered?”

Inside the central command tent, Gongsun Yin’s usually gentle and composed face darkened with rare severity.

The scout who had rushed back through the night bowed his head. “When we arrived at Qingping County by Mister’s order, it was already a dead city. While investigating the cause, we unexpectedly came upon a few households still alive.”

Gongsun Yin quickly asked, “Where are they now?”

The scout replied, “This subordinate came ahead to report. The rest of our men are escorting the dozen survivors to Jizhou Prefecture.”

Gongsun Yin clasped his hands behind his back and paced a few steps around the tent before asking, “Was the butcher’s daughter surnamed Fan among them?”

The scout said, “No, sir—but her younger sister was. The survivors said that the butcher’s daughter hid them in the cellar beneath her home and entrusted them to look after her little sister. When the bandits discovered people hiding in the cellar, that woman somehow drew them away. After those people came out, they didn’t find her body. It’s believed she was taken away by the bandits to their mountain stronghold.”

Gongsun Yin had never met Fan Changyu, but upon hearing his subordinate’s report—that she had been taken by the bandits in order to protect others—he couldn’t help but feel respect. Setting everything else aside, such courage and righteousness were no less than that of any man.

He dismissed the scout and summoned his personal guard. “Where is the Marquis now?”

The guard clasped his fists. “The Marquis set out early this morning to survey the river valley terrain.”

Gongsun Yin naturally understood why Xie Zheng would go to inspect the valley. The grain routes from Jinzhou and Huizhou depended on Chongzhou, but Jizhou still had a waterway capable of transporting grain. It was only because river levels had dropped in winter that the route could not currently be used. Come spring, when the waters rose again, that channel would reopen.

If Jizhou were to fall as well, then Prince Changxin would truly have them by the throat.

To hold Jizhou, the barrier at Lucheng could not be lost.

He and Xie Zheng had discussed it before—the most effective way to counter Prince Changxin’s fifty-thousand-strong army was to take advantage of the great spring flood.

Gongsun Yin said, “Send someone to find the Marquis at once!”

Just as his words fell, a soldier’s voice called from outside the tent, “The Marquis!”

Gongsun Yin, already troubled and weary, immediately strode out to meet him.

Dawn light broke across the camp. The man approaching wore black armor dusted with fine snow and morning frost upon his pauldrons and cloak. His brows were sharp and his gaze cold; his handsome face, touched by the chill of frost, radiated a solemn air that none dared meet directly.

Upon seeing him, Gongsun Yin went straight to the point: “Qingping County seems to have been targeted for vengeance—the entire city was slaughtered.”

Xie Zheng’s hand paused midway through removing his cloak. “When did this happen?”

Gongsun Yin replied, “The scout just brought word. It appears to be the work of mountain bandits. The butcher’s daughter in Lin’an Town—the one surnamed Fan—was taken by them. But something doesn’t sit right with me. The Crown Prince of Changxin has still not been found… could this be his retaliation?”

Xie Zheng took a sword from the rack and strode out. “Prepare the horses. A hundred light cavalry will ride with me to Qingping County!”

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

Fan Changyu did not reach the main road until dawn. The bandits had long since vanished behind her.

She had walked half the night barefoot through the snow, utterly exhausted now. Whether from fatigue or cold, her head throbbed painfully.

Inwardly, she cursed Sui Yuanqing a thousand times over. If I ever see him again, I’ll take his dog life for sure.

Jizhou Prefecture lay south of Qingping County. Once Zhao Dame and the others fled, they would certainly head there to report to the authorities. If she made for Jizhou too, she would eventually find them.

Hearing the rumble of wheels in the distance, Fan Changyu reasoned that if bandits were blocking the road, they would either lie in ambush in groups or come on horseback—never with a single carriage—so she didn’t bother to hide.

When the carriage came into view, she glanced up. It was not a luxurious one, but its wheels were larger than ordinary, moving smoothly even over snow. The yoke was sturdy, the canopy made of some thick material she had never seen before.

Fan Changyu guessed it must belong to a wealthy household. After a brief look, she lowered her head and continued walking.

The coachman noticed her bare foot and said toward the carriage, “That young lady truly fears no cold—walking barefoot through the snow like this.”

A fair, slender hand lifted the heavy curtain. Pale-colored eyes reflected the snowy landscape and the lone woman walking barefoot along the road. The man inside said, “She must have met with some misfortune. Ask her where she lives, give her a ride.”

Since the gentleman had spoken, the coachman dared not refuse. He pulled the reins to stop the carriage and called out, “Young lady! Where is your home? My lord pities you, seeing how hard it is to travel in this snow. He would be glad to take you along for a while!”

Fan Changyu knew her condition was far from good. The dislocated arm, left untreated, had already swollen badly, and the bare foot throbbed with such cold pain that she could no longer feel it.

She did not try to act strong. “I wish to go to the Jizhou prefectural office,” she said.

To report to the authorities.

The coachman replied, “That’s on our way. Get in.”

Fan Changyu thanked him and climbed into the carriage.

The instant the curtain lifted, a wave of warmth rushed out to meet her.

Inside sat a young man reading on the couch. His robe was of pale bluish gray, without embroidery or ornament, yet it carried an air of great simplicity holding the highest truth.

At first sight, Fan Changyu thought he truly looked like a scholar.

Unlike Song Yan’s self-righteous aloofness or Yan Zheng’s free-spirited arrogance, his eyes and brows held a calm gentleness, like a ray of warm sunlight breaking through the snowbound sky—making one feel inexplicably at ease.

Seeing Fan Changyu staring in a daze, the youth showed no trace of impatience or mockery. He merely inclined his head politely. Noticing the snow clinging to her hair and clothes, he pushed the brazier toward her and offered a cloak of some unknown, luxuriously soft fabric.

“Your shoes and socks are soaked, miss. Please warm yourself.”

Fan Changyu was well aware of how disheveled she must look. The furnishings in the carriage were simple yet carried a quiet refinement she could not quite name. She sat only on the edge near the door and shook her head. “Thank you, sir, but I’m not cold.”

The frost on her lashes and hair melted in the warmth, forming tiny droplets that clung like morning dew—making her look like a young leopard that had wandered out of the forest at dawn, its fierceness gone, replaced by a dazed and pitiful innocence.

The young man seemed to think she was uncomfortable with his presence. Closing his book, he smiled gently. “It gets stifling sitting inside too long. I’ll step out for some air.”

Saying so, he lifted the curtain and went to sit with the coachman outside.

Fan Changyu stared blankly at the swaying, heavy curtain.

The brazier’s heat slowly brought feeling back to her frozen hands and feet. She still didn’t put on the cloak; instead, she folded it neatly and set it aside, only using the brazier to dry the snow-dampened edges of her clothing.

The pair of deerskin wristguards she wore grew hot under the warmth. Through the fabric, they heated her wrists until they were comfortably warm.

Her dislocated arm made removing the guards troublesome—and fastening them again even harder—so she made do as they were, warming herself as best she could.

When they grew too hot, she lifted one hand and pressed it lightly to her cheek.

She remembered what Yan Zheng had said the day he left, and an odd tightness welled up in her chest.

Her clothes were half-dry when she was just about to call the young man back into the carriage—when suddenly, the carriage lurched to an abrupt stop.

Fan Changyu heard a dull groan from the coachman outside—then the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground. In an instant, she gripped the boning knife hidden against her side.

Hoofbeats followed—then laughter and coarse voices.

“The woman who hurt Fifth Chief hasn’t been found, but look at that—we caught ourselves a fine fat fish on the way.”

The young man, clearly encountering such a thing for the first time, sounded slightly shaken but kept his composure. “Good sirs, please spare my servant’s life. Take whatever valuables you wish from the carriage. If it’s not enough, I can write home for more silver to be delivered.”

The bandits, hearing how sensibly he spoke, burst into laughter. “Smart lad, knows what’s good for him!”

Several of them stepped forward to lift the carriage curtain and see what riches were inside. Fan Changyu, fearing they might recognize her, hastily pulled the cloak from the couch and draped it over herself.

She could only hope that in the darkness of the previous night, when she’d kept her face hidden under Sui Yuanqing’s cloak, they hadn’t seen her clearly enough to remember her features.

But before the curtain could even be lifted, she heard the sharp sound of steel piercing flesh.

The youth’s voice rang out, furious and horrified: “Why—why did you kill him?”

The bandits roared with laughter. “You’re the only one worth silver. Why bother keeping a servant alive to slow us down? If there’s a woman in the carriage, though—now that we’ll take back to the stronghold!”

The lead bandit hooked his knife into the curtain—only for the person inside to kick him squarely in the chest, sending him flying more than a zhang away.

The remaining bandits froze in shock, stunned by the sudden turn of events.

Fan Changyu, still cloaked, lunged forward to the carriage shaft. With one swift motion, she slashed through the harness binding the horse to the carriage. Then, stepping onto the shaft, she vaulted onto the horse’s back. Grabbing the reins, she spurred it forward—snatching the young man around the waist as they passed.

“It’s the woman who injured Fifth Chief—after her!” the bandits roared, charging like a pack of rabid hounds.

The young man had clearly never ridden before; he was jolted so violently he nearly fell off.

“Hold onto my clothes!” Fan Changyu barked.

Even with death close at hand, the young scholar’s sense of propriety held firm—he did not overstep by holding her body. Since she told him to grab her clothing, he clutched only the fabric at her waist, his knuckles white, nearly being thrown off several times.

Fan Changyu had no attention to spare for him. With a curse, she grabbed his collar and hauled him across the saddle, laying him sideways in front of her. That, at least, kept him from falling—but every jolt had him looking as if his stomach might turn inside out.

Behind them, the bandits chased relentlessly. Ahead, at a fork in the road, another group appeared—blocking their path.

The leader at the front was none other than the scar-faced man.

The two groups of riders nearly collided, both sides momentarily stunned.

Fan Changyu’s sharp eyes noticed that this second group bore bloodstains and looked disheveled, as if they had just come from a fierce battle.

She couldn’t guess who they had fought, but instinct made her choose the only open path and drive her horse in that direction.

The bandits pursuing her caught up just as they saw the newcomers.

“Big Chief! Why are you here too?” one of them shouted.

The scar-faced man growled bitterly, “Qingfeng Stronghold has been raided by the soldiers!”

The other bandits were dumbfounded. “Then what do we do?”

“Catch that woman!” the scar-faced man roared. “The soldiers are looking for the one who wounded Fifth Brother last night!”

As the two bands joined forces and surged after her, Fan Changyu swore under her breath. She hadn’t dug up their ancestors’ graves—why in the hell were they chasing her like mad dogs determined to die?

The official road stretched straight ahead, ending at a ferry crossing.

In this bitter cold, only a single small boat was moored there, and not a ferryman in sight.

Fan Changyu dismounted, dragging the young man with her uninjured arm, and the two of them clambered aboard the lone boat. Unfortunately, she didn’t know how to row. She used the bamboo pole to push off from the bank—managing to send the boat a few meters into the river—but then it drifted no farther, rocking helplessly in place.

The bandits who had chased her this far didn’t care in the least about the freezing water. One after another, they leapt into the river like dumplings dropped into a pot.

Fan Changyu swung the bamboo pole at them, striking at any who drew near, but there were too many. Some of the bandits slipped through the gaps, grabbing hold of the boat’s edge.

At that moment, Xie Zheng—having destroyed Qingfeng Stronghold and found no trace of Fan Changyu within—was scouring the area for the fleeing bandits. From the few captives he’d interrogated, he’d learned that Fan Changyu had never been captured by them at all the previous night. Taking only his cavalry, he had ridden hard to hunt down the remnants.

They had chased them all the way to this ferry crossing. From afar, Xie Zheng spotted a woman on the river and felt a flicker of familiarity. As they drew nearer, his heart clenched—it was Fan Changyu.

The fire that had been burning in his chest since the night before hadn’t even subsided when he saw that she was desperately protecting a frail scholar on the boat. His lips pressed into a thin, hard line.

The guards behind him caught up, seeing their lord halt his horse. Looking toward the river, where a man and woman were beset by bandits, one said, “Marquis, the bandits seem to be trying to seize the boat.”

Xie Zheng’s voice was cold as steel. “Bring me a bow.”

The chill in his eyes was sharp enough to freeze the air—yet it was fixed not on the bandits, but on the young scholar whom Fan Changyu was shielding with her own body.