After Gongsun Yin assigned a tent for her and her sister, Fan Changyu brought water back and helped Changning wash up.

While tying Changning’s little pigtails, she asked, “Ning-niang, do you still remember how you were taken away?”

Changning counted on her fingers, carefully recalling. “Elder Sister hid us in the cellar. Later, Aunt Zhao took Ning-niang and ran. On the road, we met the soldiers. We walked a long way, and she sent us to an inn. Aunt Zhao said that was Jizhou City and that we were safe.”

Fan Changyu could tell that the “inn” Changning mentioned was actually the post station arranged by the Jizhou government to temporarily shelter them, so she hurriedly asked, “And then?”

Thinking of the time she was taken from the post station, Changning still felt frightened. Her eyes reddened again. “Then the inn suddenly caught fire. A bad man slashed Aunt Zhao, tied up Ning-niang, stuffed my mouth, and locked me in a chest to carry me away…”

At that point, she couldn’t hold back and began to cry. “Elder Sister, Aunt Zhao bled so much. Did Aunt Zhao die?”

Fan Changyu gently patted her back to comfort her. “Aunt Zhao is fine. She’s still in Jizhou. Once you go back, you’ll be able to see her.”

Only then did Changning stop crying.

Fan Changyu asked, “Ning-niang was put into the chest and taken out of the city by carriage, right?”

Changning nodded, then added, “When they took Ning-niang out of the chest, there were mountains everywhere. They threw away the chest and carriage, rode horses with Ning-niang, and went to a very large residence. They locked Ning-niang in a dark room. After several days, a very fierce matron came and took Ning-niang out. That matron told Ning-niang to play with Bao’er.”

Fan Changyu was puzzled. “Wasn’t Bao’er locked up like you?”

Changning thought for a moment. “He was locked up too, but those fierce matrons and maids still coaxed Bao’er to play. They called him ‘Young Master Bao.’ But Bao’er ignored them. Bao’er said a bad man locked his mother up, and only if he behaved would he be able to see his mother again.”

The more Fan Changyu listened, the more confused she became. The kind of “locking up” Changning described sounded more like confinement.

And those servants even called Bao’er “Young Master.” Could it be that Yu Qianqian’s husband was someone from that household?

Even if she wasn’t clever, Fan Changyu knew this matter was entangled with rebels—far from simple.

Changning tilted her head and asked, “Elder Sister, when Brother-in-law gets better, can we go together to rescue Bao’er and Aunt Yu?”

Fan Changyu replied, “Once we go down the mountain, Elder Sister will go to Chongzhou to find out what’s going on.”

Only then did Changning brighten up again.

Fan Changyu noticed something tied around Changning’s neck with a red string and asked, “What’s this?”

Changning took it out—it was an exquisitely carved little jade pig pendant. She said, “Before we left, Bao’er gave it to me. The one he gave me last time, I left at home. He said he’s always carried the grasshopper I wove for him, so he made me this little pig pendant and told me to always wear it too.”

The previous jade piece had been a bit large and shaped like a jade lock. When Yu Bao’er wore it outside his clothes, it was fine—but if Changning wore it the same way, it looked a bit out of place.

To avoid drawing attention or having it damaged while she played with the children in the alley, Fan Changyu had told Changning to leave that jade lock at home.

She picked up the little jade pig and examined it carefully. Even without knowing jade, she could tell the texture of this pendant was much smoother and warmer than the jade lock before—clearly of finer quality. At the bottom of the pendant was carved the character “Bao,” as if it had been specially made.

Fan Changyu guessed that it must have been some gift Yu Qianqian had once prepared for Yu Bao’er.

As for why it was carved into the shape of a little pig—judging by how Yu Bao’er was about the same age as Changning, perhaps he too was born in the Year of the Pig?

She felt that this jade pendant likely carried even more meaning for Yu Bao’er than the previous one.

Two children meeting a familiar face in a foreign land—perhaps they regarded each other as their only playmate.

Fan Changyu tucked the pendant back inside Changning’s collar and said, “Then wear it properly and don’t lose it. Once we rescue Bao’er and his mother, you should return this pendant to him. This gift is too valuable—Bao’er is still a child; we can’t accept it, understand?”

Changning nodded. “Like last time—if Aunt Yu agrees to the gift, then Ning-niang can keep it, right?”

Fan Changyu smiled and stroked her head. “Right.”

Changning hadn’t had a good night’s sleep for days. Staying beside Fan Changyu that night, she began yawning after only a few words.

After coaxing Changning to sleep, Fan Changyu remembered that when she saw Yan Zheng in the daytime, the blood on his body hadn’t yet been cleaned. She fetched a basin of water and went to his tent.

He had always been a man who loved cleanliness. If not for his injuries, he surely couldn’t have borne the smell of herbs and blood that clung to him.

When Fan Changyu arrived, sure enough, there was still light inside Xie Zheng’s tent.

Not knowing whether new wounded soldiers had been brought there after she left, she called softly from the entrance: “Yan Zheng, are you asleep?”

“Not yet.” A low voice answered from within.

Fan Changyu entered carrying the basin. The moment she lifted the curtain, she saw Xie Zheng bare-chested, winding fresh bandages around his waist, one circle after another. On the table beside him lay two empty bottles of golden-wound medicine.

Sweat beaded on his forehead; the pain must have put him in a foul mood. When he looked toward the doorway, his expression was somewhat cold.

But when he saw that it was Fan Changyu, the look in his eyes softened slightly.

“Why have you come?”

Fan Changyu said, “I brought you some water to wash with.”

She noticed that the bandages he had taken off were soaked through with blood.

Thinking of that earlier embrace, guilt crossed her face.

“Did I press on your wound before?” she asked.

Xie Zheng had already tied off the new bandage. He put on his robe and said, “No.”

Although he denied it, Fan Changyu still felt uneasy. Remembering that his injuries had been for saving Changning, her guilt deepened. Seeing that he was about to fasten his robe ties, she said, “Don’t put it on yet. I’ll help you wipe down.”

Xie Zheng’s brows instinctively furrowed. “You’ll help me?”

Fan Changyu only thought it wasn’t anything new—when she had first found him, she had directly held him down to apply medicine. There was nothing to be shy about. She nodded openly.

“You can’t let water touch your wounds, and you can’t reach your back yourself. If you’d feel embarrassed, I can fetch one of the lads outside to help you instead.”

Xie Zheng had already undone the ties again. “You do it.”

The dark robe fell open, drawing deep shadows under the candlelight.

His solid, well-proportioned muscles gleamed like warm jade; the bandages winding diagonally from shoulder to rib only accentuated the cold restraint of his brows and eyes, fragile yet unyielding.

Fan Changyu wrung out the cloth and began to wipe his face little by little.

Sitting at the bedside, Xie Zheng seemed momentarily taken aback—he hadn’t expected her to start with his face.

Fan Changyu’s movements were gentle and slow, her patience unwavering as she carefully wiped away the bloodstains and grime from his face. She smiled softly and said, “When I picked you up that time, you were far dirtier than you are now—your whole face was so covered in blood I couldn’t even tell what you looked like.”

Xie Zheng said nothing, merely watching every motion she made in silence.

Her features were exquisitely shaped; under the candlelight, she seemed to be cloaked in a faint, tender glow. Just looking at her made all the agitation in his chest gradually settle.

When she finished wiping his face, Fan Changyu wrung the cloth again and began to clean his upper body. The moment the towel neared the area bound in bandages, her hand paused. She lifted it and, through the gauze, gently brushed the long scar that crossed his chest. Her voice lowered. “It must hurt terribly, doesn’t it?”

Xie Zheng still answered only, “It doesn’t.”

Fan Changyu said nothing more. When she finally raised her head again, her eyes were faintly rimmed with red.

Xie Zheng reached up, tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, and after watching her for a long while, suddenly lowered his head and brushed a kiss across her eyelid.

The touch was so light it felt like being brushed by a feather.

She blinked, unaccustomed, staring blankly at him—clearly startled by the sudden intimacy, though she didn’t resist it either.

When she dazedly looked at him like that, her eyes were clear and innocent, carrying a kind of honest softness that seemed easy to take advantage of.

Xie Zheng’s voice, low in the stillness of the tent, carried a quiet depth. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

Fan Changyu was silent for a moment, then blurted out in surprise, “You kissed me?”

The tent flap hadn’t been properly fastened. Mountain wind swept in from outside, making the candle flames flicker; their shadows on the canvas twisted and blurred.

Looking at her, Xie Zheng gave a quiet “Mm,” his eyes so deep they made one’s heart tremble.

Another long silence fell.

Then Fan Changyu suddenly straightened, leaned forward, and quickly touched her forehead to his. “Now we’re even,” she said—then picked up the basin and left the tent.

Xie Zheng stared at her departing figure, unable to recover for a long time.

He had done far worse than that light kiss before, yet the faint trace of warmth lingering on his forehead could not be suppressed by reason—his lips curved unconsciously, betraying the quiet delight that welled up within him.

· ─ ·✶· ─ · 

After returning to her tent, Fan Changyu barely slept the whole night. Ever since she had known Yan Zheng, she had always treated him like family—a friend, a companion. That was why, when he had acted impertinently toward her last time, she had been so furious.

It wasn’t only because of his rudeness, but because he had betrayed the trust she had always placed in him.

Yet after everything that had happened since, that momentary anger had long been washed away. She only hoped that everyone she cherished would remain safe and well.

When she had heard that his life or death on the mountain was uncertain, her first instinct had been to find him.

As for what she would do after finding him—she had thought only of living as before. One more mouth to feed at home—she could easily manage that.

But what happened tonight left her somewhat bewildered. He had kissed her again, and yet she hadn’t been angry—only stubbornly retaliated with a quick peck to his forehead!

Fan Changyu turned restlessly on the bed, annoyed, and found that she had pulled the blanket off Changning. She hurriedly turned back over and tucked it gently around the child again.

Only toward the fourth watch of the night did she finally drift into a shallow sleep.

When dawn broke, Fan Changyu rose with dark circles under her eyes. After helping Changning wash up, she went to the cook camp to collect food for the wounded soldiers. There, she heard the cooks grumbling that they hadn’t caught any game these past two days and couldn’t prepare any special meals for the infirmary.

Fan Changyu remembered what the army physician had said—that Xie Zheng’s body needed proper nourishment.

How could he recover without eating meat?

She planned to head into the forest after breakfast with the soldiers assigned to hunting, hoping to catch something good.

When it came time to send medicine and breakfast to Xie Zheng, she felt awkward remembering what had happened last night. Afraid of making things even more uncomfortable, she handed both tasks to other soldiers instead.

Early that morning, Gongsun Yin went to see Xie Zheng to report on official matters, only to find his temper unusually foul. After some indirect probing, he learned that Fan Changyu hadn’t been to see Xie Zheng at all that morning. Finding it odd, he decided to wander over and look for her himself.

Fan Changyu was already preparing to go up the mountain and planned to leave Changning in Xie Zheng’s care while she was gone. When Gongsun Yin arrived, she immediately asked him to take Changning there for her.

When Gongsun Yin heard that she was heading into the mountains to hunt, he was quite surprised. Worried that something might happen to her—being a young woman and all—he quietly assigned two of his personal guards to follow and watch over her.

As he led Changning to find Xie Zheng, he couldn’t help noticing the two crooked, lopsided pigtails on the girl’s head—so uneven they were practically an eyesore.

Unable to hold back, he asked, “Little one, did your elder sister not comb your hair this morning?”

Changning reached up to touch her pigtails and said, “She did! She even tied them again!”

Gongsun Yin: “…”

How was it possible for someone to look worse after having their hair combed?

He endured it for as long as he could, but in the end, he couldn’t stand it—he took apart Changning’s pigtails himself and retied them neatly.

Seeing this, the nearby soldiers exchanged confused looks. One of the veteran guards who had followed Xie Zheng the longest quietly explained, “Master Gongsun sometimes just can’t stand untidy things. If a child’s hair is tied unevenly—one high, one low—it’ll bother him the whole day.”