When Fan Changyu heard the noise and turned her head, her scalp nearly exploded.

Unluckily, her clothes were caught by a branch on the steep slope. She gave it a hard tug and finally tore off that piece of fabric, but the force made her body jolt—the deerskin wristguard she had been holding in her arms slipped out by accident, rolled some distance down, and was finally stopped by a snow-laden branch.

As the wristguard fell, Fan Changyu’s heart inexplicably tightened.

It was the sixteenth birthday gift Yan Zheng had given her.

Without thinking, she dashed after it. Who could have known that beneath the fallen snow and needles there was a pit hidden?

The moment she stepped forward, the ground beneath her gave way, and she plummeted downward.

Fan Changyu’s left arm was injured, and her right hand was clutching the wristguard she had just retrieved, leaving her nearly powerless to climb.

Fortunately, her collar suddenly tightened—she was yanked up by someone, like a big cat caught by the scruff of its neck.

The brittle branches and gravel around the mouth of the pit fell down one after another, but there was no sound of them hitting the bottom. The darkness inside was bottomless—no one knew how deep it was.

Fan Changyu couldn’t help a surge of fear. She turned and looked at the one-eyed man who had caught up to her. His figure was tall and straight, but across his face ran a savage scar—from his left eye, over the bridge of his nose, extending to the right half of his face.

Just looking at him was enough to make one feel uneasy.

Her lips pressed tight as she met his gaze—like a leopard caught after a desperate attempt to flee, eyes full of defiance.

The man held her collar easily with one hand, his whole presence cold and heavy.

When he noticed that she was still gripping that pair of deerskin wristguards tightly, his eyes paused for a moment. Then, with a tone of mocking chill, he said, “For something like that, you’d throw your life away?”

His voice was so low and hoarse that it sounded as though his throat had once been wounded.

Fan Changyu thought to herself that she hadn’t known there’d be a pit hidden under the branches and snow.

But aloud, she snapped harshly, “None of your business!”

She only had her right hand available for use, yet Fan Changyu didn’t care that he still had her by the collar.

She tried to shove the wristguard back into her jacket, intending to free her right hand to act if needed.

Her movement didn’t escape his notice. His gaze darkened slightly, and out of nowhere, he asked, “Is that thing very important to you?”

Fan Changyu thought this man was oddly nosy. Having freed her right hand, she answered curtly, “Of course!”

The moment she spoke, using the distraction of her words, her right hand shot up behind her neck to grab the hand holding her collar.

Using the leverage, she twisted her body and kicked against the pit’s rocky wall, trying to climb upward.

After all, it was safer to have her own life in her own hands than in someone else’s.

But the man seemed to catch her intent. He moved backward with the motion, pulling her entire body along with him.

Fan Changyu crashed against him, her head spinning from the impact against his hard armor. Before she could get up, he flipped over and pinned her to the ground.

The completely restrained position made every hair on Fan Changyu’s body stand on end. Furious, she shouted, “Get off!”

He pressed one hand over her right wrist, the other holding her shoulder while carefully avoiding her dislocated left arm.

Half supporting himself above her, he looked down—their faces barely a foot apart.

Fan Changyu glared up at him in hatred, her chest rising and falling violently with both anger and breathlessness.

The curve of her chest, where she had stuffed the wristguard just moments ago, was now more pronounced—lending a dangerous, almost seductive tension to the scene.

Yet the man pinning her down showed not the slightest hint of stray desire.

He stared at her, his one good eye strikingly beautiful, its black pupil deep and unfathomable—danger itself.

“The pretty boy down the mountain—what is he to you?”

Fan Changyu’s rage flared hotter. She refused to answer, struggling instead—only for his hold to tighten. Turning her head aside, she caught sight of his hand gripping her wrist.

On his index finger was a circle of very fresh teeth marks.

Back at the old woman’s house, the conversation she had overheard between the two fake soldiers outside surfaced in Fan Changyu’s mind.

Could it be that the “master” they spoke of was this man? Not that useless bastard she had stabbed full of holes?

So… she had been saved by him?

Fan Changyu’s struggle weakened slightly. She couldn’t help but look over the man before her.

That dark, pitch-black eye of his felt strangely familiar. Unable to suppress herself, she demanded, “Who are you?”

The man’s hoarse voice replied, “Answer my question first.”

Fan Changyu, counting the time it would take for the real soldiers to arrive, turned her head aside to stall, refusing to meet his gaze.

“I don’t know him.”

The man let out a short, derisive laugh.

“Don’t know him? Yet you risked your life to protect him on the river?”

Fan Changyu thought this man was truly strange and said, “I was chased by mountain bandits. On the road, I ran into his carriage. He was kind enough to give me a ride. Later, the bandits caught up, and I escaped with him.”

The strength restraining her loosened slightly. His eyes lowered to the bit of deerskin wristguard showing at her collar, and he asked casually, “You cherish that thing so much. Who gave it to you?”

Fan Changyu hated that her body was injured, that she hadn’t eaten in too long and had no strength left. Otherwise, how could this wretched man have subdued her?

As she silently prayed for the soldiers to arrive soon, she answered coldly, “Someone very important.”

The thought of Yan Zheng brought an unexplainable ache to her chest.

The man seemed momentarily stunned by that reply.

Seeing the faint redness at the corners of her eyes, he asked, “How important?”

Fan Changyu couldn’t hold back and snapped, “What business is that of yours?”

The pine tree above them shuddered, sending down a cascade of snow.

Xie Zheng instinctively rolled with her to the ground, one arm tightening around her back—

as if, in that instant, he had held her just a bit too closely.

Fan Changyu wasn’t about to waste such a perfect chance to escape.

She rammed her forehead hard into his jaw.

As he reached up in pain to clutch his chin, she scrambled up and kicked at him.

Xie Zheng dodged nimbly. Her fierce kick struck a pine trunk as thick as a bowl instead, shaking loose another heavy fall of snow that came tumbling down like an avalanche.

Knowing she had lost her window to attack again, Fan Changyu didn’t linger. Taking advantage of the brief cover, she turned and bolted toward the official road below.

After several rounds of clashes, she had already gauged that this man’s martial skill was far superior.

In her current state—wounded, starving, exhausted—charging at him in blind fury would only mean courting humiliation.

She still had to stay alive—alive to return and find Changning.

She couldn’t throw her life away here out of pride!

Xie Zheng sat up in the snow, one hand covering the jaw she had slammed her forehead into.

The falling snow from the pine branches scattered across his shoulders.

His lips had split when they collided, and a thin line of blood trickled out.

He looked once toward the direction Fan Changyu had run, listening to the growing thunder of hooves approaching—and in the end, did not go after her.

The Jinzhou front was in urgent straits, and as the commanding general, appearing here in Jizhou was already enough to give Li Huai’an’s faction a weapon against him.

He had fallen out with Wei Yan, yes—but having done so much under Wei Yan’s command in the past,

the Li faction would never seek to recruit him. They only wished to watch him and Wei Yan tear each other apart.

Besides… knowing now that she did not utterly despise him was enough.

At least, she still treasured the thing he had given her.

She had said he was someone very important.

A personal guard, uneasy about Xie Zheng’s decision to come alone, rode up following the slide marks along the mountain path.

Finding him seated alone beneath a snow-laden pine, his figure solitary like a lone wolf, the guard finally spoke softly: “My Lord Marquis, the Jizhou soldiers are almost here. Let’s go.”

Xie Zheng gave a faint “mm,” turned back toward the official road, mounted his horse, and with a final glance at the winding mountain path half-hidden by the pines in the distance, pressed his heels to the horse’s flanks and rode off.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

Fan Changyu ran all the way until she reached the official road, where she finally encountered the troops who had ridden up from the mountain’s base along the winding path.

Seeing the Jizhou banners fluttering in the wind and the hundred-odd soldiers, she finally allowed herself to exhale in relief, certain they were genuine soldiers.

Li Huai’an and a few others rode up to meet her.

“Young lady, are you all right?”

Fan Changyu nodded between ragged breaths and pointed up toward the steep slope behind her.

“There were some men dressed as soldiers pretending to be merchants, lodging at the home of a blind old woman. Their identities are very suspicious—very likely mountain bandits in disguise. Gentlemen, you must hurry and pursue them before they escape.”

The man leading the soldiers was Zheng Wenchang. He immediately ordered a large detachment to give chase on horseback, leaving a dozen or so men behind to guard Li Huai’an.

Seeing how hard Fan Changyu was breathing, Li Huai’an fetched a water flask from his saddle and handed it to her.

“Please, have some water.”

Perhaps fearing she might hesitate, he added, “This is a spare flask—I haven’t drunk from it.”

Fan Changyu accepted it with a word of thanks and gulped several mouthfuls before she began to recover her strength.

The man bowed slightly to her.

“My surname is Li, given name Huai’an. I must thank you again for saving my life yesterday.”

Fan Changyu replied, “It was only because you were kind enough to offer me a ride first.”

Li Huai’an insisted,n“A simple ride cannot compare to a life-saving grace. May I ask for your name, miss, so I may properly repay you someday?”

Fan Changyu could only answer, “Lin’an—Fan Changyu.”

A flicker of surprise passed through Li Huai’an’s gentle expression.

“The entire county of Qingping was slaughtered, and even the nearby Lin’an Town suffered calamity. Only a few elderly and women survived. The one who lured the bandits away so that those few could escape—was that you?”

Fan Changyu had been worrying about Changning and the others.

Hearing that the neighbors hiding in the dry well had escaped, her face lit with sudden joy.

“That was me. How do you know this?”

Li Huai’an said, “Shameful as it is, the rebels have been rampant. After Lord He Jingyuan of Jizhou personally went to Lucheng to defend the pass, I, Li Huai’an, was appointed by the court to act temporarily in his stead here in Jizhou. I had only just arrived within the borders yesterday when I was attacked by mountain bandits. Thanks to you, I survived. After I returned, I heard about the tragedy at Qingping County.”

Fan Changyu finally understood—this man was an official too, and a high one, serving under Lord He of Jizhou. No wonder he appeared here with the Jizhou soldiers.

When she spoke again, her tone had noticeably grown more formal.

“May I ask, my lord, are my younger sister and our neighbors safe?”

Li Huai’an noted the sudden formality in her address, but his eyes remained warm.

“They are temporarily settled at the Jizhou post station. For now, they are quite safe.”

Having answered her, he smiled mildly.

“Miss Fan, there’s no need for such formality. We’re not in court—there’s no need to call me ‘my lord.’”

Fan Changyu nodded, but when she next spoke, she still addressed him as “my lord.”

Li Huai’an chuckled softly and shook his head, letting the matter rest.

They paused there to rest for a while. Half an hour later, Zheng Wenchang returned with his troops.

He had found many tracks, but not a single trace of the fugitives themselves—only the old woman whom Fan Changyu had hidden by the edge of the pine forest.

Upon questioning, the old woman gave the same account as Fan Changyu had earlier.

Fearing damage to Fan Changyu’s reputation, she said nothing about the man who had pretended to be Fan Changyu’s husband and shared a room with her.

The mountain bandits were not found, but at least Fan Changyu had been.

Zheng Wenchang left part of the troops to continue searching the nearby woods, while the rest escorted Li Huai’an safely back to Jizhou’s main city.

Fan Changyu only learned the full story on the way back.

When the mountain bandits stormed Qingping County, the magistrate’s household had never once considered organizing the constables to resist. Instead, they fled in panic, taking only their own family with them. After Song Yan left for the capital to take the imperial examinations, Madam Song, claiming the house had grown too lonely, moved into the magistrate’s residence. That very night, when the bandits broke into the city, she escaped with the magistrate’s family—only for the bandits to pursue them for more than ten li, slaughtering the entire magistrate’s household. Madam Song, too, died beneath their blades.

The most tragic of all were Chief Wang and his wife. Chief Wang had gathered his constables, hoping to block the bandits outside the city gates just as he had done with the rioters that day. But the bandits seized the advantage and broke through the gate first. Outnumbered and overwhelmed, Chief Wang and his wife perished there at the gate.

Listening to all this, Fan Changyu’s heart grew heavier with every step.

When they finally reached Jizhou’s main city, she went to the post station in search of Changning—only to learn that someone had set fire to the station and, amid the chaos, abducted her.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

Across a boundless stretch of mountains and fields, six or seven riders burst out from a rugged mountain trail.

Beside a murmuring stream, they dismounted to rest. The horses, exhausted from the long flight, lowered their heads to drink.

A pretty, mischievous-looking young man lifted a girl of about five or six years old from his horse. She was still sobbing softly.

Sui Yuanqing had never expected the child to be able to cry this much. She hadn’t stopped the entire way. Yet her bones were so fragile that he didn’t dare knock her unconscious; one misjudged strike could easily snap her spine. He’d already lost an entire garrison of the prince’s men in Jizhou just to seize this child—if he killed her now, it would all be for nothing.

He looked at the little girl dangling from his hand like a kitten, his patience wearing thin.

“If you cry again, I’ll throw you into the river.”

Changning was terrified. Her lips trembled, and her sniffling broke into full-throated wailing. Sui Yuanqing’s face instantly darkened.

A guard happened to bring over a kettle of clean water and offered it to him. Sui Yuanqing tossed the child toward the man.

“I don’t care how you do it—just make her stop crying.”

The noise grated on his nerves. The wounds at his waist and shoulder ached, fueling his irritation until he wanted to kill someone. If the child hadn’t been useful, he would have snapped that delicate neck long ago.

The guard, holding Changning, looked pained. Killing he could do; comforting children was another matter entirely.

But the young master had given an order, so he forced a stiff, unnatural smile and tried to coax her.

Seeing that forced grin, Changning only cried harder—so hard she could scarcely breathe.

Noticing Sui Yuanqing’s chilling gaze, the guard broke into a cold sweat and redoubled his efforts to soothe her.

But soon, he realized something was wrong. The girl wasn’t simply crying anymore—she truly couldn’t breathe. Her mouth gaped wide, her face and neck flushed crimson, and still she couldn’t draw air.

Alarmed that she might die in his arms, the guard called out, “Your Lordship! It looks like she has a wheezing illness!”

Sui Yuanqing glanced at the child, whose tiny body seemed on the verge of suffocation, and his expression grew even uglier.

He’d gone through all that trouble to capture her—if she died halfway, not only would it earn him Xie Zheng’s hatred, but it would all have been for nothing.

“See if she has any medicine on her,” he ordered.

He remembered having a concubine-born younger sister who suffered the same ailment—three steps and she coughed, five and she gasped, never daring to leave her room without her medicine.

The guard searched and, sweating profusely, reported, “N-none… none at all.”

“Lay her on the ground,” Sui Yuanqing said.

The guard placed Changning flat on the earth, and after a long moment, her breathing gradually steadied.

Having learned of her condition, Sui Yuanqing no longer dared to frighten her. He took the water flask from the guard and held it out to her.

“Thirsty?” he asked.

Changning was clearly terrified of him.

She nodded, then shook her head, tear-streaked and pitiful beyond words.

Sui Yuanqing lifted her up by one arm and set her upright, pressing the water flask to her lips.

“Drink,” he ordered.

Changning was still frightened, but having just suffered a fit, she didn’t dare cry again.

She took a few small sips, and the dryness and soreness in her throat from so much crying finally eased a little.

Sui Yuanqing screwed the cap back on, stood, and strode toward his horse.

“Keep moving,” he said coldly. “Just make sure she doesn’t die on the way.”

When the guard lifted Changning onto the saddle again, her eyes were still blurred with tears.

She pressed her lips together and kept silent.

She was small, but clever.

By now, she had pieced together that these bad men seemed to have mistaken her for someone else’s daughter.

If she told them the truth now, they would definitely kill her—and then she’d never see her elder sister again.

At the thought of her sister, tears welled up once more.

She reached for the bamboo whistle hanging from her neck and began to blow it weakly, one short breath at a time.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

Three days later, Lucheng.

Gongsun Yin received a dispatch sent from Yanzhou.

The moment he read it, the folding fan slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.

He murmured in disbelief, “When did Xie Jiuheng ever have a daughter?”

Then again, considering that man had quietly gone and found himself a beloved, perhaps it wasn’t impossible he had a child as well.

Carrying the report and a peculiar expression, Gongsun Yin went to find Xie Zheng—only to find the command tent empty.

He knelt on a mat to wait.

When Xie Zheng finally returned, he was surprised to notice a small dish of chenpi candy placed on the low table.

He thought to himself that Xie Zheng’s guards had grown careless—their lord despised sweets the most.

Leaving a dish of candy here was practically begging for punishment.

With nothing better to do, he tried one.

To his surprise, the flavor was tart and sweet, unexpectedly pleasant.

After eating three pieces in a row, his conscience stirred—so he swept the remaining candies into his sleeve pouch,thinking he’d spare whichever poor guard had left them from being disciplined.

Moments later, Xie Zheng stepped in, armor dusted with snow and wind.

Seeing Gongsun Yin, he only said, “What brings you here?”

Gongsun Yin’s gaze raked over him with obvious curiosity.

“What else? I have news,” he said, tone odd.

Xie Zheng ignored the probing look, removed his cloak, and handed it to a guard. As he sat down, his eyes fell upon the now-empty candy dish. His expression darkened instantly. He turned his gaze toward Gongsun Yin.

“You ate them?”