Chapter 47

Xun Xiao and Gu Wan exchanged glances. They had expected her to hesitate, perhaps dither a bit, but to their surprise, she agreed so decisively. Qin Ying sighed, slinging an arm around Gu Wan’s shoulder and patting her. “We’re about to do something behind Little Fourth’s back.” But she quickly perked up, “I’ll handle my brother!”

Qin Guan had the authority to command Qin Xian’s men.

A spark lit in Xun Xiao’s gaze. “I’ll set out at once to gather information and send word to the Tuo Edun tribe.”

“Then…” Gu Wan said, “I’ll be responsible for diverting the Xie Family Guards when the time comes.”

Ah, she hadn’t expected the first order she’d carry out would be like this—wasn’t this a betrayal of his trust? She could only hope Xie Ci wouldn’t be too angry.

Dawn was just breaking. Birds in the mountain forest chirped and chattered, filling the tranquil air with lively noise.

Xie Ci’s group had already packed up their tents and left the small, secluded mountain hollow. The light had not fully crept in yet; the forest remained dark. Parting the tall grass and branches on either side of the stream, they rode their horses through the water and returned to the mountain road.

Here, the land was hilly and higher than the plains. Looking south from this vantage, one could see the vast Wei encampments stretching for dozens of miles, an endless expanse in the uncertain pre-dawn light, dotted here and there with the glow of torches.

In the early morning mist, Xie Ci reined in his horse and gazed for a long time. He said quietly, “Of course I know that discovering the mastermind is the most urgent matter, and this is the best opportunity.”

It turned out that before Xun Xiao privately approached Qin Ying and Gu Wan, he had already shared his plan with Xie Ci.

Could Xie Ci have not considered it? Impossible.

He certainly recognized this path. But he had never once entertained such a thought; he grew furious and flatly refused Xun Xiao. The two parted on bad terms.

Though they’d never much liked each other, last night was the first time Xie Ci and Xun Xiao had a fierce quarrel. In the end, Xun Xiao stormed off, cursing him for his obstinacy.

Xie Ci passed a sleepless night.

But by morning, he was calm again. The cool breeze carried the forest’s quiet fragrance. He gazed at the expanse of the Wei encampment and whispered, “But we mustn’t become like them.”

“If we too, for personal reasons, strike a deal with the Northern Rong, are we truly any different from those people?!”

One has his necessity, another hers—but there are lines one does not cross, codes of conduct and iron principles. Xie Ci exhaled deeply.

Gu Wan thought: Damn, Xun Xiao, you scoundrel—so he’d already talked to Xie Ci before coming to her and Qin Ying. She dared not make a sound.

When Xie Ci turned and smiled at her, she flashed her teeth in return. But aside from cursing Xun Xiao in her heart, she did not regret her choice. Before agreeing, she’d known Xie Ci could never consent.

He loathed the Northern Rong. His father and brother had fallen through false charges of smuggling with the Rong—accused of treason and beheaded. For generations, the Xie family had fought the Northern Rong to the death; how could he ever agree to this?

The Xie family’s unyielding backbone ran deep as blood. A man who, in the country’s darkest hour, could struggle and finally put aside personal vengeance—his upbringing had instilled in him a boundary he’d never overstep.

This was Xie Ci’s forbidden ground.

Gu Wan understood. But after weighing everything, she still went through with it. The dead were already gone; Xie Ci had to survive. Xun Xiao’s words had struck her heart: Who knew what the situation would be next time? This was the pivotal moment to unmask the mastermind.

There were things more important to Xie Ci than life itself.

But she and Qin Ying only wished for Xie Ci to live well, for the crisis to pass with as little harm as possible, for everyone to be safe.

He was the protagonist, but what if fate turned against him? The plot had already gone far astray. In modern times, two nations might wage economic war yet still exchange benefits with a smile when necessary.

They were only privately exchanging a tidbit of information for a half-grown youth of little consequence—not some famed general.

All they hoped was that Xie Ci wouldn’t be too angry when the time came.

The pale light in the east grew steadily. Xie Ci’s expression was calm and solemn. “The Northern Rong barbarians slaughter my Great Wei’s people, invade our lands; every ancestor of the Xie clan died resisting the foe. My father and brother perished for this cause; in the afterlife, they would never wish to see me act otherwise!”

His features were resolute, unyielding as ever.

He glanced sideways at Gu Wan as the golden dawn crept over his brows and eyes, his youthful face in that moment almost too radiant to behold—because of the principled steel within his heart.

Gu Wan blinked. “…Yes.”

She hardly knew what to feel—at that moment, Xie Ci was the very image of the hero she’d always admired. She stared, awash with emotion, but felt a pang of guilt and sat uneasily in her saddle.

Fortunately, the subject soon changed. Xie Ci recovered his composure, arched an eyebrow and smiled at her. “Let’s go!”

With her by his side, no hardship felt insurmountable, no bitterness too much to bear. The tall, valiant young man reached out; Gu Wan quickly took his hand. With a crack of the whip, they rode out into the breaking dawn.

Xie Ci’s group returned swiftly to the Wei army camp. Once there, he softened his tone to Gu Wan. “You should rest.”

Gu Wan hesitated, but after Xie Ci urged her several times, she realized it was unlikely anything would happen right away, so she went. She was exhausted from days of travel, and Xie Ci knew it.

But once she’d gone to rest, Xie Ci threw himself back into work without pause. Returning to the east barracks, he removed his disguise.

The Wei camp was abuzz with post-battle matters and rumors about the black-armored young general. But the Xie family troops took the opportunity to root out the last few spies in their ranks. Under Xie Ci’s direction, Qin Xian and others pushed for the integration of Guiyi Prefecture into the eastern camp, solidifying the core area.

Though affairs were tangled, the post-battle eastern barracks were tranquil and orderly.

Upon returning, Xie Ci sat behind the main desk. Xie Yun immediately stepped forward and reported in a low voice, “Master, we’ve contacted our informants; the information matches what General Qin’s people have learned. But we discovered something else: before the Lantian case, several provinces had frequent movements of arms, salt, and iron. Master, here are the quantities moved in and out over the past six months.”

Xie Ci examined the list—Huo Can, Lu Xinyi, Zheng Shoufang, as well as Marquis He Xin, Governor Xiang Boqian of Xia Prefecture, and Governor Wang Guang of Guide. Detailed quantities lay beneath their names.

Xie Yun said, “Looking deeper, Lu Xinyi has been acting strangely of late, and Zheng Shoufang as well. Those like him have always seen our house as a thorn in their side.”

If Zheng Shoufang found an opening, he’d never let it slip by.

Xie Yun continued, “I believe it’s possible those two have joined forces.”

The Xie family had their own secret service and informants. While searching for people, they were investigating from a different angle. They’d already noticed oddities in Lu Xinyi’s behavior—gone was the former tone of respect.

Now, besides Qin Xian and a few trusted men, Xie Ci finally had his own intelligence network.

With these sources combined, the picture was becoming clear.

The focus had narrowed to Lu Xinyi and Zheng Shoufang.

All deployments in the eastern camp now followed Xie Ci’s command, forming a tight unit with Qin Xian and others.

Upon his return, Xie Ci focused on both the Northern Rong’s movements and the latest intelligence from the Xie family guards, striving to piece together further clues.

As Qin Xian and Su Zhen parted the curtain and entered, they saw a young black-armored general seated upright behind the desk, tiger screens behind him roaring in painted forest, his brow sharp and martial authority evident.

The leaders of Guiyi Prefecture—He Yuan, He Rong, Liu Rongsui, and others of Hu descent—stood in armor on either side.

For an instant, Qin Xian felt as though he’d returned to the past.

—Xie Ci’s elder brother, Xie Hua, had already established his own command by thirty-two, overseeing most affairs for the Xie army in his twenties. Qin Xian and the others had often entered just so, peeking through the curtain to see the black-armored, red-caped young general busy with his work: calm, dignified, exuding martial might.

Qin Xian was suddenly moved. He exchanged glances with Chen Yan; all present were clearly reminded of old times. Even the ever-serious Kou Wenshao felt a spark of hope. They drew deep breaths, collected themselves, and strode inside.

They all instinctively found their former places. With a unified thump, they knelt on one knee. “Young General!”

“Rise, sit. What is it?”

Qin Xian cupped his fist. “Reporting, Young General! The probing from Lu Xinyi, Zheng Shoufang, and others has been handled. All is under control.”

Many were keenly aware who this was, and though curiosity lingered, those who tested him were rebuffed. Qin Xian and his team had managed it all in their busyness.

Qin Yong, however, had been so busy he was nearly frantic, constantly worried he’d be found out.

But that was someone else’s concern now.

Xie Ci and his men then discussed the Northern Rong, the Lantian case, and matters regarding the Xie family guards for almost two hours, only dispersing in the afternoon.

Xie Yun, worried, said, “Fourth Young Master—no, Master, let me help you out of your armor, dress your wounds, and rest awhile?”

He’d watched Xie Ci grow up. Once the family’s youngest, he was doted on by all. Even if Xie Xinchong scolded him daily, it was because he was mischievous—the privilege of a beloved child. When he made progress, Xie Xinchong would be proud in private, praise and reward him. Even when Xie Ci outwitted his tutor to the point of driving him away, Xie Xinchong, though exasperated, was secretly proud.

Once, Xie Ci had thought himself the happiest person alive. Though the old man at home made him jump, his greatest worry was that, when he grew up, he’d have to join the northern border army and wouldn’t see his friends for a long time.

But everything was shattered overnight.

After so many battles, did Xie Ci not feel weary? But he never showed it. His armor remained on, never removed, as he sat at the desk, analyzing, commanding, never once allowing his back to slump.

After losing his father and brother, he bore it all alone.

Xie Yun could imagine the weight behind every order, the deliberation behind every word.

He recalled the boy Xie Ci had been, and looked at the young general before him—broad-shouldered, tall, grown almost unrecognizably mature in less than two years. His eyes stung with tears.

But Xie Ci did not feel tired. In his armor, at his post, his heart surged. Lost in thought, he only returned to himself when he heard Xie Yun’s voice. He nodded and stood.

Once out of his armor, the exhaustion hit him. After his wounds were treated and the attendants withdrew, leaving the tent silent, he found himself unable to sleep.

He tossed and turned, thinking of many things. In the end, he thought of Gu Wan, longing swelling in him like a tide. He leapt from bed, pulled on his boots, and went straight to her quarters.

She must be awake by now.

Gu Wan, too, had slept fitfully that morning—partly because she was worried about Xun Xiao’s matter, but also… she kept thinking of Xie Ci. She sensed something was different.

But the feeling was fleeting, and she had no evidence. She chided herself—not to be so self-absorbed.

Yet there was a shadow in her mind she couldn’t shake, making her suspicious. Yes, Gu Wan was beginning to suspect.

But fatigue soon overcame her, and she slept soundly until mid-afternoon, waking hungry. She quickly dressed and called for food, starving.

After wolfing down two large buns, still unsatisfied, she received Xun Xiao’s message: Everything had gone smoothly; the exchange would take place tonight.

But Xie Ci’s meeting was over—he finally had free time. Xun Xiao urged her to keep him occupied; under no circumstances should he be allowed near the hollow before dawn.

Gu Wan: …Damn, so soon! Was the information about the exchange reliable?

She put down her bun and wiped her mouth. Luo Qian said, “Miss Gu, don’t worry. My master said there’s absolutely no problem. Shall I inform Lady Xie Er?” “Go ahead. Quickly!”

Gu Wan pulled on her boots, tossing all stray thoughts aside, hurriedly tidying up to go find Xie Ci.

But Luo Qian had barely left, and she was only halfway into her boots, when a familiar voice called, “Wan-niang, Wanwan?”

Gu Wan: ???

She had no time to think—Xie Ci was here! Had he seen Luo Qian? She jumped up and rushed to the door, lifting the tent flap.

Xie Ci stood there in snow-white underclothes, wrapped in a black cloak, the scent of medicine about him, hair slightly damp from washing.

He’d kept his injuries from her—wounds mainly from that fierce battle with the Northern Rong king, Huyan De, the wolf king who had reunited the eighteen tribes. Both bore injuries: not only were their palms torn, but Xie Ci bore a long gash on his back from the enemy’s curved blade. Not deep, but long—difficult to dress. The army doctor had seared it with fire and ordered him to keep it dry and, if possible, lie on his stomach.

The moment Gu Wan saw him, her eyes widened. “What are you doing here? You didn’t bandage your wound—it’ll split open!” She hurriedly pulled him inside, her eyes darting. “You’re not sleeping? Well… why not sleep on my bed, then!”

Yes, sleep—she could keep an eye on him and stop him from wandering.

Xie Ci caught his breath, glancing at her bed. She’d just gotten up—blanket askew, pillow dented, a mess.

“I… I sleep here?”

“Yes.”

Gu Wan blinked. What was the problem? It wasn’t even her bed—last night some other comrade had used it, and it still smelled faintly of sweaty feet. But in wartime, camp beds were shared—today hers, tomorrow someone else’s. Especially as she had to keep her identity hidden, she rarely slept in the same bed two nights running.

So she didn’t mind. “What, too narrow? Can’t lie on your stomach?”

There were three cots, all the same size. Gu Wan just wanted him up there as soon as possible. “Or shall I push another one over?”

“No, no—I’ll just use this one.”

Xie Ci struggled to stay composed, nodding to indicate it would do. He wouldn’t take up much space lying down.

They’d shared a bed before, but not like this. Now he was so flustered he nearly tripped over himself, hurrying to her bed. Lying on his stomach, he pressed his face into the pillow—still warm from her—her scent surrounded him, sending a shiver through his heart and a rush of heat to his ears.

He stayed still, not daring to look up.

Gu Wan helpfully shook out the blanket, covering him from the waist down. “Are you cold? Want another cover?”

In truth, she thought it best not to—the clothes were freshly laundered and reserved for the wounded, and it wasn’t that cold. No cover was fine.

Xie Ci barely restrained a smile. “No, I’m not cold.”

“Then sleep!”

Gu Wan grinned, watching him.

He nodded, even the corners of his eyes flushing with heat, not daring to look up. After a quarter hour, his breathing finally grew deep and slow—he’d fallen asleep, blissful.

Gu Wan finally relaxed. Thank goodness, it was done.

She glanced outside—only mid-afternoon. Could she keep this up until dawn? Well, she’d deal with it later.

After a good rest, Gu Wan felt refreshed. She practiced the forms Xie Ci had taught her, then had Xie Yun bring over some of Xie Ci’s paperwork—she would help handle it.

Xie Ci was truly standing tall now. Gu Wan could see the change in the great generals’ attitudes—from Xie Xinchong’s confidants to loyal followers of Xie Ci. The burden had shifted onto his shoulders.

She’d help lighten his load—after all, she’d slept well, but he’d only just found a moment to rest.

With Gu Wan present, no one else came to rest in the tent. It was quiet, broken only by the soft comings and goings of Xie Ping and the scratch of writing.

Xie Yun, seeing Gu Wan’s bold, strong calligraphy—nothing like a woman’s hand but precise and orderly—nodded secretly in approval.

The master, the old lord’s choice for the fourth young master’s bride, was truly perfect.

All the Xie family guards were deeply grateful and respectful to Gu Wan—she had saved Xie Ci and the others. Xie Ci had said, “Her words are as my orders,” and they had obeyed easily; but genuine respect and heartfelt loyalty were two different things.

By coincidence, that very day Xie Ci and Gu Wan spoke of this.

At midnight, Xie Ci awoke.

The moment he stirred, Gu Wan put down her pen and stood. Glancing at the water clock—over two hours till dawn. “Are you hungry?”

Xie Ci, his face half-numb from lying on it, sat up, rubbing his cheek. Gu Wan hurried over with bandages, applying ointment and wrapping his wound, her fingers brushing over his skin, moving around behind him as she worked. Xie Ci’s heart thudded.

When she finished, Gu Wan had an idea. “Weren’t you learning disguise? We have a bit of time—I can teach you now.”

Xie Ci had practiced many times—he could make himself unrecognizable, but his eyebrows were always uneven, the shading and highlights unmatched. With a helmet on, it was passable, but to impersonate someone convincingly—like Zhu Tang, whom they often used now—was beyond him.

Gu Wan glanced at him; Xie Ci eagerly nodded. “Yes!”

Gu Wan was delighted, rummaged for her spare tools, pulled the table over, and the two of them spread out their things—one teaching, one learning—stealing glances at each other.

“Loosen your grip; steady your hand when you draw the brow, move in one stroke.”

“Like this?”

“No, too hard—the color’s too strong. Like this… Yes! Try yourself.”

Gu Wan grew earnest as she taught.

She guided his hand through several tries; Xie Ci, holding her slender fingers, felt his heart tremble. Suddenly, he couldn’t help himself—he turned and grabbed her hand!

With a snap, the brow pencil fell to the floor, breaking into pieces.

—Gu Wan had made that herself, with some waterproofing. Usually she’d be upset, but now she glanced at it, then stared at her hand in his grip. “…Why are you grabbing my hand?”

Xie Ci, protesting, “But you were holding mine, too.” His eyes were extraordinarily bright.

Gu Wan was stunned. She sensed something—damn, she said reflexively, “…But it’s only April.”

Xie Ci almost confessed—his joy stalled for a beat. He leapt up. “…Yes, it’s only April, still far from June! Are you trying to break mourning early?”

Gu Wan jumped up too. “Nonsense! Aren’t I observing it properly?”

Xie Ci, having failed, quickly shifted tactics—retreat and counterattack, as in the art of war. He coughed, nodded solemnly. “That’s all right, then.”

“I have things to do. I’ll go.”

He gathered up the broken pencil, tossed it on the table, grabbed his black cloak, and swept out like the wind.

Gu Wan: Damn, could it be what she was thinking?

A thought flashed through her mind as Xie Ci lifted the tent flap and left.

But before she could dwell on it—

Suddenly, hoofbeats thundered outside; someone leapt from horseback and rushed over. Xie Yun’s voice called out, “Master! Young Master Xun has taken Yehe Guqing to exchange information with the Northern Rong!”

Xie Ci halted, his rare lightheartedness vanishing. His face darkened, cloak billowing in the night wind. He stood rigid, eyes fierce as a blade. Xie Ping and the others, shocked, dropped to their knees.

Damn, the secret was out! Why so soon?

Gu Wan’s heart leapt. Forgetting everything else, she bolted out after him.

Author’s Note:

Midnight has passed; Xun Xiao is on the return journey—it’s a done deal.

Gu Wan: Surely no one will die… right? Xie Ci and Xun Xiao have been at odds for a long time, and both can fight!

But even if it’s just a personal matter, it’s still colluding with the Northern Rong. The protagonist, a man who could set aside family hatred for his country in its darkest hour, has boundaries that cannot be crossed. (Some things, no matter how small, are matters of state at the highest level.) The Xie family—its people and its soul.