Chapter 23

The gray-yellow earth walls shielded the biting wind. Looking back, snowflakes fluttered down in patches, draping the foothills and countryside in pristine white, quietly slipping into the deepening darkness of the night.

Xie Ci was at the main entrance, his ink-blue cloak billowing as he strode inside. Amid the hazy snowfall, the temple’s shadows deepened, yet his upright posture beneath the military coat stood out like a javelin, his steps short and forceful as his boots struck the ground.

As Gu Wan turned back, she caught sight of him pressing his hand to the hilt of his sword, and as he turned, his cloak flared, revealing the graceful arc of a young hero, his strides swift as if riding the wind.

Silver saddles and white horses, swift as meteors, the young nobles of the Five Tombs, sword in hand, journey a thousand miles.

She suddenly recalled this fitting line.

The original owner's memories painted Xie Ci in a more mischievous light, for he was scolded daily; the old general, hardened by a lifetime on the battlefield, found fault in everything and sometimes even resorted to blows.

But from Gu Wan’s vantage, she saw a youth wandering the world with sword in hand.

He was spirited and chivalrous, quick to defend others, and though reckless in his exploits, he was fundamentally different from the idle sons of nobles.

He would become a peerless hero astride his horse and spear, and even in his youth, there were traces of that greatness—for such character does not appear out of thin air, no matter the trials and transformation.

He was a brilliant youth, dazzling as a gem.

Gu Wan watched, and felt unexpectedly proud.

She found it amusing, and laughed; well, after all, humans are not plants, who can be truly unmoved? She admitted that, unconsciously, she had nearly come to regard Xie Ci as family—not kin by blood, but by fate.

When others treat her sincerely, it is hard not to be touched. That’s why she let him call her Wan, and not Yuan-niang. She was not Yuan-niang.

“What are you laughing at?” Xie Ci heard her soft laughter.

“Laughing at you,” Gu Wan replied with a gentle tease.

The small temple, though humble, was well-equipped; villagers often sought refuge here from wind and snow. A clay kang had been built at the side, with firewood and straw, and a broken earthen jar held a half barrel of water.

Gu Wan lit the kang, covered it with some straw, and lay back, sprawling, “I’m exhausted.”

The entire day had been high-intensity exertion; even with her improving fitness, she was nearly dead tired. Once she lay down, she didn’t want to move. “Don’t disturb me, I’m going to sleep…”

And with that, she drifted off.

Xie Ci, unfazed by her teasing, removed his helmet and lay beside her on the straw. He didn’t feel particularly tired, nor especially cold.

The small clay temple was quiet and dark, the fire in the kang glowed red, crackling occasionally, its light flickering on the earth walls.

Xie Ci, by the firelight, looked toward the head of the kang. In the darkness, all he could see was a shapeless mass, but he could hear Gu Wan’s breathing, which soon grew gentle and steady.

In this cold winter’s night, the kang barely gave out heat, the temple had no door, and the biting northwest wind swept in, laden with icy snow. Yet, as all quieted, Xie Ci should have felt the cold, but memories of the day—riding through the wind, her laughter echoing—stirred something in his heart, and he was not chilled by the night.

The winter’s journey was never solitary.

Xie Ci thought himself fortunate, for he still had her by his side.

That night, snow fell in abundance. Xie Ci did not recall when he fell asleep; as soon as he closed his eyes, it was morning when he opened them again.

“Let’s head down the mountain.”

Gu Wan was already awake. She knew Xie Ci slept lightly, so she lingered in bed, but the cold soon made her give up, and as Xie Ci woke, she hopped down, stamping her feet.

Xie Ci flipped off the kang in one nimble motion.

Today was truly cold. They extinguished all embers, used the half-frozen water from the jar to wash, then walked out the temple door. The heavy snow had fallen all night, now gradually easing as dawn broke, blanketing the mountains and fields in endless white.

They crunched through the snow, following the traces of the dirt road, and soon reached the nearest town.

The breakfast stalls smoked invitingly, and the town was calm, though soon the repercussions from Longshan Road and Suzhou would reach here. Gu Wan and Xie Ci planned to eat first, then change out of their military uniforms.

Because they wore the uniform of captains, the staff at the breakfast shop were especially courteous, serving food immediately. The other patrons had no objections, some even bowed respectfully when Gu Wan glanced their way.

Gu Wan quickly returned a reassuring smile.

After breakfast, the two found a suitable clothing shop, bought new clothes and shoes, and changed.

Xie Ci’s armor was more complex, so Gu Wan finished first and leaned against the door, waiting for a while. The curtain parted, and Xie Ci emerged in a dark blue outfit, a slim sword at his waist, adjusting his sleeves as he strode out, spirited and youthful.

After their victorious first battle, Xie Ci’s demeanor had clearly improved.

Gu Wan clicked her tongue, folded her arms, and admired him for a while, until Xie Ci finished adjusting his sleeves and they walked out side by side.

Gu Wan untied the reins and handed one to Xie Ci. “Little Four, you need power,” she said.

She tossed the heavy bundle containing their uniforms onto the saddle, her tone light but her words serious.

Though Xun Rongbi was dealt with, Xun Xun remained at large, so they certainly couldn’t return home and walk into a trap. Circumstances were stronger than people; they’d have to let him gloat for a while.

More importantly, Gu Wan was preparing for the future: don’t be too selfless—hold onto power to protect yourself, and everything else can follow. Since he was no less than Li Yi, why should he remain subordinate?

And sooner or later, she meant to deal with Yu Manzhen—a lurking threat. They could interact, but best not to get too close.

The snowy light gleamed, sparrows chattered under the eaves. She leaned in, adopting a particularly earnest expression and whispered. Xie Ci was momentarily taken aback, but quickly replied, “I know.”

He too held his heavy armor. After their actions in Suzhou, Xie Ci realized that as lone riders, they could only circle the fringes.

The truth lay within the army; they were outside. Trying to uncover the truth was like trying to hit an ox through a mountain.

But if they were within the military, holding some power, everything would be different—whether investigating or facing their enemies, it would be much easier, perhaps effortless, and they’d finally have a foothold.

Xie Ci had thought about it last night. He told Gu Wan, “I plan to find the old troops of the Xie family. If possible, I want to join the army—even if I don’t use the name Xie Ci.”

He looked up at the blue sky after the snow, “Wan-niang, I suddenly feel, maybe I really can do it.”

To uncover the details of the treason case, to clear his father and brother’s names and avenge them—this was the heavy wish that weighed on his heart.

When he said this, he had shed the uncertainty and confusion of his past, looking ahead with resolve.

Having slain Xun Rongbi and escaped unscathed, their victorious foray into Suzhou had given Xie Ci tremendous confidence—not just words, but a true boost. He finally felt that, though difficult, he might not be incapable of achieving it.

He rarely felt so light; it was as if a heavy stone was lifted from his head, and he could see a glimmer of sunlight.

—She had always thought of him as a bit of a brat, after all, he was younger than her. But at this moment, she truly felt he had grown up—from a brat into a partner walking beside her.

She smiled, suddenly very happy. “Come, let’s talk as we walk!”

Emotions are infectious. They mounted their horses and galloped, wind in their faces, for ten miles before slowing down.

Gu Wan asked, “So, what’s your next plan?”

In town, his demeanor suggested he had an idea. Xie Ci did indeed; though their trip to Suzhou was a trap, it gave him a new perspective. “I think, my father led the army for years—surely not every trusted subordinate betrayed him.”

Xie Ci didn’t know why so many chose to betray his father at once. But Xie Xinzhong, whether as a man or a general, had always been impeccable—strict in discipline but not extravagant, distributing pay properly, even supplementing rewards from his own pocket.

He was strict with himself but lenient with others, adept at managing relationships, definitely not a hard and unyielding commander.

One must know that the bonds and loyalty forged on the battlefield are stronger than any gentleman’s friendship.

Thirty years through wind and rain—it was impossible that all had betrayed Xie Xinzhong.

“I suspect, among the six main generals, there may have been cases like Xun Rongbi’s—stripped of power, imprisoned,” Xie Ci pondered, “and perhaps outside these six, there are others who refused to compromise.”

From beginning to end, some never compromised.

If so, the enemy may truly have created the scenario Xun Rongbi pretended.

The Xie family’s army had stood strong for years; Xie Ci understood why Xun Xun and his father were so desperate to destroy him. Now, he wanted to reclaim the old troops.

Previously, Xie Ci was highly cautious and never considered showing himself, but the boost of victory had changed his confidence—and much else.

“Only, identifying them will take time.”

Strike while the iron is hot; dragging it out is disadvantageous. But given the trap in Suzhou, time was necessary. Xie Ci frowned.

Gu Wan nodded repeatedly; Xie Ci’s direction was exactly right, without her guidance! But at the end, she blinked, “Actually…I might have a way!”

Xie Ci looked over immediately.

Gu Wan snapped her fingers, her almond eyes bright against the snowy backdrop. “Remember Long Shouren?”

“Of course.”

“And when I mentioned the eldest son—‘I’ve long heard Xun’s eldest is refined and dignified, much like his father.’ Remember? He hesitated before replying.”

Gu Wan recalled, her expression thoughtful, “I guess Xun Xun is probably the child of Princess Rilian,” she calculated, “probably too young to remember, so he wasn’t killed.”

Xun Rongbi was truly despicable, Gu Wan thought. Damn, what trash, dog eating dog, deserved to be slain.

“Xun Xun has half Northern Rong blood!”

Recalling his hawkish eyes and aquiline nose, though his irises were black, his features were deep-set—likely due to his Northern Rong heritage.

When Gu Wan hurried to Heroic Slope, hiding on the cliff to catch the moment to throw the rope, she nearly listened to the entire process, and immediately suspected Xun Xun was Princess Rilian’s child.

With this, everything fell into place.

As Xie Ci judged, “That’s right, I think so too.”

Gu Wan mused, “That day, I suddenly asked Long Shouren; he hesitated before answering.”

Now that she recalled, Long Shouren’s pause might not have been regret over the past.

Although he aided villains, she remembered his emphasis—“In just over a year, he hopes to replace his father, impossible.”

Perhaps he was hinting to Xie Ci to leave.

Xie Ci killed Long Shouren without remorse; in history, guilt is judged by actions, not intentions. He deserved it. But as Gu Wan recalled his demeanor and tone, and later at the parade ground, Long Shouren said only, “Who dares imprison father and slay brother, seize power,” not “slay brother,” specifically.

Gu Wan pondered, “I just have a feeling Xun Xiao might not be truly dead!”

The first to rush to aid was Long Shouren—obviously still Xun Rongbi’s loyal subordinate. Considering Xun Xun’s lack of any search or unusual behavior after receiving his brother’s body and before the funeral, if true, it must be Long Shouren’s work.

So Xun Xiao?

Could he have narrowly escaped death?

If Xun Xiao isn’t dead, he knows much! That could be a shortcut!

Xie Ci and Gu Wan exchanged a look, both thinking of Xun Xiao’s grave.

But even if they dug it up, after a year, wouldn’t it be only bones? Xie Ci frowned; it would be hard to tell.

At this, Gu Wan finally smiled, her contemplative expression gone. “Don’t worry, it should be possible.”

Unless Xun Xun found a corpse matching the age and height precisely, it could be distinguished. Bones speak.

“Let’s go!”

Gu Wan flashed a triumphant smile, cracked her whip, and glanced back, sparkling with confidence.

Across the snowy wilds, on a brown horse clad in purple, Gu Wan stood about one sixty-five centimeters tall, but her long, straight legs made her seem taller. With sloping shoulders and a slender neck, her legs in narrow trousers moved gracefully—beautiful as a butterfly, powerful yet elegant.

She differed from Second Sister-in-law Xie’s fierce vigor, possessing a unique casual ease—sometimes lazy and sly, sometimes radiant and striking.

Her willow-leaf brows curved, but she was anything but delicate.

The wind blew snowflakes, her whip lashed, and the brown horse neighed, her purple figure flashing past, swift as a shooting star.

Xie Ci stared after her for a moment, then hurried to catch up.

The wind and snow carried their voices.

No one would have guessed that Xie Ci and Gu Wan would return to Suzhou city, and even less that they would turn back to Heroic Slope. Beneath the moonlight, Xun Xiao’s grave lay silent.

Only the wind howled; in winter, even the gravekeeper hid in the cabin below, warming himself and sleeping.

Xie Ci and Gu Wan tied their horses, descended the cliff on a rope, and strode openly to Xun Xiao’s grave.

The wind was strong atop the slope, the snow thinned, blown away, so footprints and bloodstains were still visible.

Each armed with a hoe, they discussed and chose to dig from the front of the tombstone.

—The entrance was at the front; after the craftsmen finished and the pallbearers placed the coffin, there had to be a way out. Digging here was easiest—though most conspicuous, but in such weather, even the keeper wouldn’t patrol.

Gu Wan prepared to dig, but Xie Ci snatched the hoe, “Let me.”

He still brooded over Gu Wan’s declaration of siblinghood, eager to prove his manhood at every opportunity.

Gu Wan didn’t argue, swept the steps before the tombstone, and sat, smiling silently as Xie Ci worked—good, she’d call him “little brother” more often; it worked so well.

The ground was somewhat frozen, but not a problem. Xie Ci focused his energy, quickly breaking through the frost, speeding up as he dug deeper. After about half an hour, they had a pit half a meter deep, exposing the sealed tomb entrance.

Xie Ci soon broke it open, and after another half hour, he was the first to stoop and enter the passage. After a while, his voice echoed from inside, “Wan-niang, you can come in!”

Tonight was the sixteenth; a silver moon hung in the sky, its light bathing the snowy fields in endless cold clarity.

Gu Wan opened an iron box and examined the carefully crafted knife she’d commissioned.

The handle was long and cold, set with a tiny, razor-sharp blade, both forged in silver, gleaming faintly.

A surgical knife.

She’d thought she’d never use such a thing again.

Gu Wan gazed at the knife, exhaled deeply, packed everything in her canvas satchel, and jumped into the pit, quickly crawling into the passage and the burial chamber.

Xun Xun was neither a prince nor a high official; he died before thirty, so the tomb was simple—one main chamber, two side rooms, the coffin placed in the center.

Xie Ci had already broken open the coffin, waited for the stench to dissipate, then called Gu Wan in.

Gu Wan had no psychological barrier—this was her old profession.

She glanced in: the flesh and tissue had entirely decomposed, leaving only traces; a skeleton lay within, hair still atop the skull, armor fragments scattered beneath the finger and toe bones.

“Body length, five point nine two feet; estimated lifetime height, add two inches.”

Gu Wan donned mask and gloves, pulled out a tape measure, and smiled at Xie Ci.

Xie Ci immediately frowned; though the numbers differed from his usual, he understood, “Five feet nine two, plus two inches?”

The last time he saw Xun Xiao was two years ago, when the brothers returned to the capital to report, visiting Lady Xun. Then Xie Ci was fourteen; they stood together, he reaching Xun Xiao’s earlobes, and at New Year, he measured himself—exactly five five.

He frowned; converting, the numbers didn’t match exactly, a bit short. But considering slight changes in bone after death, and boots and posture, the difference was negligible.

Gu Wan measured the cheekbones, “Half a foot plus half an inch—your cousin had a broad face,” nearly twenty centimeters across. Xie Ci immediately protested: impossible!

Xun Xiao resembled his father, refined and tall—a famed fair-faced gentleman among the northern troops.

How could he have a broad face?

At that moment, Gu Wan smiled, having found her answer. The man had been strangled. See, the hyoid bone is broken—whoever did it used great force; likely he died in five or six breaths.

But Xun Xiao was supposed to have died in a fire, the Suzhou troops perishing, all reduced to charred corpses, and the skeleton here was clenched, the bones blackened, seemingly burned.

His remains were so damaged, even burial clothes couldn’t be changed; only a red shroud was used, now pulled aside by Xie Ci, exposing the charred armor and scraps.

Gu Wan carefully tweezed out a bit of nasal bone, examined it under the lamp—a strangled and burned victim. Then, checking the small foot armor, she found something new, “Did your cousin also have Northern Rong blood?”

No!

Xie Ci replied instantly: absolutely not!

Xun Xiao was born in the capital, after Xun Rongbi’s return to glory, with the Xie family arranging his marriage. Xie Ci could guarantee that neither Lady Pei nor Xun Xiao had any Northern Rong ancestry.

Now, this was nearly conclusive, but for thoroughness, “Xie Ci, you do it,” she said, indicating the pubic symphysis, “Saw it off.”

After cleaning it—normally it would be boiled, but this body was already skeletal—it could be stripped clean.

The pubic symphysis is the most accurate method for estimating bone age without instruments.

Male, age thirty-five to forty, about thirty-seven or thirty-eight.

“See, the joint and lower margin are clearly defined, with damage appearing on the upper segment—characteristic of males thirty-five to forty.”

She skipped the incomprehensible technical terms, explaining only what Xie Ci could understand.

In the dim burial chamber, four or five lamps illuminated the center. Gu Wan wore a white veil robe—so she wouldn’t need to change later—her slender fingers gloved, holding the pubic bone with tweezers, showing it to him. In the lamplight, she had a cold, self-contained air he’d never seen before.

Xie Ci was astonished, blurting out, “Wan-niang, how do you know all this?!”

Gu Wan: …

Her black-and-white eyes moved under her fringe, she glanced over, blinking, and the aloofness vanished, replaced by her usual lively and mischievous self. She laughed, “Ah, my maternal grandfather—you know he was an investigator in the Ministry of Justice? I learned from him.”

She’d thought about it: her grandmother was a county princess, her grandfather an investigator—like Song Ci in "The Song Dynasty Justice," not required to examine corpses but within his scope, and if interested, he could do it himself.

She leaned in, whispering, “Don’t tell anyone, I promised my grandfather.”

In the yellow lamplight, the fine hairs on her face were visible. She smiled, bumping his shoulder companionably.

She got a bit too close; Xie Ci held his breath, eyes wide, almost immediately replying, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

Then he realized: was this a secret they shared?

Gu Wan’s words he never doubted; if she said it, he believed it. And in this dark, quiet chamber, after their whispered exchange, he felt inexplicably happy because of their shared secret.

A strange sense of joy arose.

He felt he hadn’t been earnest enough, so he added, quietly and solemnly, “Not a single person.”

“I promise!”

In the lamplight, Xie Ci’s eyes shone like crystal. Suddenly serious, Gu Wan couldn’t help but burst into laughter, doubled over. He looked so funny, like a face-changing performer from Sichuan.

She replied lightly and quickly, “Then I believe you~”

Xie Ci was embarrassed by her laughter, his ears reddening, glaring at her. But soon, he couldn’t help but smile, lips curving, joining in her laughter.