Chapter 83

Lady Gantang returned to the courtyard late at night, and one person was still kneeling there, as still as a stone statue.

She stood behind him, exhausted, and said, “Go back.”

Tang Rong remained kneeling, his spine straight. He didn’t turn around or get up. His voice was sincere and filled with sorrow.

“Madam, you could have just pushed everything onto me. Even if the Qi people come to arrest you, you could say that I blackmailed you with the children’s lives, forcing you to steal the tiger talisman and bring the Yucheng Army back to Lidu Prefecture. This entire plan was mine, and you had no part in it.”

Lady Gantang, already mentally and physically drained, had no energy left to argue. Slowly, she walked over, sat down on the steps, and looked at Tang Rong.

He was once a lieutenant under the Pingnan Marquis, highly valued, yet he willingly chose to disguise himself as an ordinary guard by her side. Even though he had been at Wangxue Valley for a long time, he had never fully adapted to the lifestyle of the noble family and remained mostly silent. It wasn’t until last night when she announced that she would adopt the children into the main family, ensuring that their fates wouldn’t be tied to hers if something happened, that Tang Rong became unusually agitated. He even had a heated argument with her, and ever since, he had been kneeling there, unwilling to leave.

She remembered that when Yucheng surrendered, he had also kneeled there for a long time in front of the Marquis’ residence, begging the Pingnan Marquis to fight to the death.

At his age, filled with ambition, he thought that earnestness could change things, but in the end, nothing changed.

... No, there was one change. Back then, when he heard that the Pingnan Marquis wanted to hand Lady Gantang over to the Qi people, even though he had never met the woman inside the inner court, he felt something was wrong. He broke into the inner house to warn her.

Lady Gantang had never seen such a reckless military man and was initially startled, but when he explained his intent, she realized the situation outside was dire.

She was furious. The man she had spent ten years with, the man with whom she had shared children and mutual respect, was now showing such an ugly face. In the face of danger, they couldn’t even look out for each other, and he was willing to sacrifice her to show his loyalty to the enemy. This angered her to the point of making an unexpected rebellious decision—stealing the tiger talisman and leading the army to escape.

Only she knew that the noble intentions and bravery that others praised were initially nothing more than anger clouding her judgment, hiding an impulsive desire for a desperate escape.

It wasn’t until they were on the road that she realized how difficult it was. She traveled with two young children, fleeing with the Yucheng army, constantly avoiding the Qi soldiers. Most of the time, they marched through the mountains and fields, occasionally sending a few people to the towns to gather supplies.

She had lived a life of luxury in her earlier years, always surrounded by attendants, never once walking on the land herself, relying on others to guide her steps. She had prided herself on her kindness, never using her power to bully others, and always willing to give to beggars. Now, she realized that wasn’t true kindness. In the past, it was more like a show of superiority.

Traveling thousands of miles and seeing the suffering of the people deeply affected her. She slowly realized that the impulsive decision she made was, by accident, the right one.

Yet, while faith could sometimes alleviate the hardships, it wasn’t always effective. She dared not show weakness, because it was a promise she had made. There were times when she felt like giving up, when every cliff she passed made her want to jump and escape from this painful world.

But every time she looked back, she saw Tang Rong’s tense gaze, protecting her closely. No matter where they went, every night, he stood guard outside her tent, not allowing any danger to approach.

She could have let it go. She was the marquis’ wife, but in this chaotic world, she was nothing. Yet, the young man insisted on adhering to his sense of order, treating her with respect, protecting her. She gradually understood that, as soldiers, when they lost their king and commander in an instant, they needed to find a spiritual belief in this chaotic world.

And for her, who had stolen the tiger talisman for selfish reasons, she became the noble person they were willing to protect. For this bond, she also needed to uphold the dignity of that noble person, insisting that she could not escape. She had to lead them to find a way to survive.

After making this choice, she actually felt a sense of relief. Tang Rong didn’t know, but she had become a warrior herself, and in her heart, she was very happy.

But the child was very stubborn. He didn’t want her to take any risks.

At this moment, the spring wind was quiet, carrying a hint of chill as it brushed by, scattering a few flower buds from the trees, which landed softly on the back of her hand.

Lady Gantang suddenly smiled.

Facing Tang Rong’s confused gaze, she extended her hand, and the flower landed perfectly in the palm of her hand.

“Tang Rong, the flower has bloomed.”

Tang Rong stared blankly at her face, not understanding why, after a day filled with heaviness, she would suddenly break into a long-lost smile at a falling flower.

But at that moment, he only felt that she no longer seemed like a woman who had crossed through the flames of war and experienced the vicissitudes of life. Sitting in the courtyard where she had lived for over ten years before leaving her family, time seemed to stand still, and she was still the young woman whose eyes held the beauty of spring flowers and autumn moons.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured.

Lady Gantang’s face slowly revealed a smile. “What if I just want to protect this beauty of spring flowers? Tang Rong, you must help me.”

Tang Rong didn’t know why, after half a lifetime in the military, with a firm resolve and unyielding iron bones, her words touched him so deeply, his eyes misting with unshed tears.

“Madam, let us protect you,” he said, clenching his fists, unwilling to show any sign of weakness.

“You’ve already protected me by walking thousands of miles with me, and you’ve safely returned home. From now on, if the Yucheng army wants to do anything, they can do it without worrying about me. But I... will share life and death with you. The day I led you out of the city, I made that promise.”

“Madam!”

He couldn’t control himself. Taking a few steps forward, he grasped a corner of her skirt.

He held it tightly, wrinkling the satin fabric in his grasp. A man’s knees are like gold, and men don’t easily shed tears, but before her, he didn’t care to hide all his fragility and urgency.

“That’s just an unnecessary sacrifice!”

“It’s not unnecessary,” she said with conviction. “Heaven and earth, the sun and the moon, are watching. Even the story of the foolish old man moving a mountain started with a grain of dust and a handful of soil.”

During these days when the city was on edge and human lives were cheap, no one knew where justice and fairness lay.

Gusha had already lost his mind with bloodlust. As long as he could bring down the Bingshu Division, not only would the Yucheng army’s whereabouts be revealed, but the location of King Ling’an could also be obtained without effort.

He surged forward with great momentum, catching Wanyan Jun off guard.

He didn’t know where Gusha had gotten such power, and it made him feel uneasy. The advantage he once held over Gusha had subtly shifted. He could no longer control his ambitious general, and it was clear that Gusha was a wild tiger, far from a cornered dog.

He was deeply troubled by the current situation when, on the last day of their seven-day agreement, Zhang Yuehui brought him highly confidential intelligence.

The Candlelight Bureau was trying to make contact with Princess Lingfu, who likely carried the imperial edict of succession from the Emperor of the Yu Dynasty.

Wanyan Jun broke out in a cold sweat. No one knew better than him that before leaving, Xu Kouyue had asked for his favor to visit her parents—she had met the Emperor of the Yu Dynasty! Although that conversation had been under his surveillance, if there were indeed any handover, it would be nearly impossible to prevent. The news of the imperial edict was definitely not fabricated!

And this was the leverage Xie Queshan had used to help Zhang Yuehui pass through the checkpoint.

Originally, Zhang Yuehui had hoped to pit Gusha and Wanyan Jun against each other, muddying the waters for his own escape, but the effects of that were not immediate. However, the powerful move from Xie Queshan quickly restored Zhang Yuehui’s trust with Wanyan Jun.

This even puzzled Zhang Yuehui—if the edict of succession was real, revealing this to Wanyan Jun would benefit the Candlelight Bureau not at all, and might even drag Xu Kouyue into it. From any angle, it didn’t seem like a good thing.

Had Xie Queshan truly defected, or had the undercover agent gone mad and couldn’t continue?

But why would he sell this opportunity as a favor to Zhang Yuehui? Zhang Yuehui felt something was amiss, but he didn’t bother to think it through. Even if the edict was false, as long as it couldn’t be found, it would be like a thorn embedded in the heart—persistent and unresolved, and it wouldn’t be a losing deal for him.

Besides, ultimately, this had nothing to do with him. His main concern was to escape this mess as quickly as possible and bring Nan Yi to his side.

The one most anxious in this situation should be Wanyan Jun. He had brought Xu Kouyue to Lidu Mansion, and no matter what, he would dig three feet into the ground to find it.

The intelligence arrived late at night. Wanyan Jun dragged the sleeping Xu Kouyue out of bed and into the courtyard. A team of soldiers rushed into the room, roughly starting their search.

The clanging of metal made one shiver even through the window.

The early spring courtyard still carried a chill, and Xu Kouyue only wore a thin robe, shivering in the wind.

As soon as she spoke, her teeth chattered: “My lord… what’s happening?”

Wanyan Jun stood beside her, silent, simply waiting.

After some time, the noise in the room finally ceased. The soldiers marched out in formation and reported to Wanyan Jun.

“Reporting to the lord, no suspicious papers were found.”

Wanyan Jun’s eyes seemed to swirl with ink. After a long pause, he simply said, “Leave.”

In an instant, the courtyard was empty.

Wanyan Jun took off his outer robe and draped it over Xu Kouyue. He tightly held her shoulders, his tone surprisingly gentle.

“Ayue, are you hiding something from me?”

Xu Kouyue shook her head in confusion and fear.

“You know how much pressure I’ve been under bringing you to the south? Those other princesses and consorts who came with you, even the empress, are still suffering in the laundry yard, being trampled by the masses. Your life has been much better than theirs. If you’re hiding something from me… if I get implicated, no one can protect you.”

Tears welled up in Xu Kouyue’s eyes as she was forced to nod, agreeing with Wanyan Jun’s words.

Through her sobs, she said, “I’ve always been by your side, every action under your eyes… Even if you don’t trust me, you should trust your own eyes, right?”

It was unclear whether Wanyan Jun was convinced, but his expression remained as unfathomable as ever, his large hand covering Xu Kouyue’s face.

His fingers slowly tightened, pressing so hard it hurt her bones. His smile gradually morphed into a cold, sinister expression.

...

Princess Lingfu was the task assigned to Nan Yi by Song Muchuan.

The members of the Candlelight Bureau, embedded within the Qi people’s royal court, had risked their lives to deliver two critical pieces of information. The first was that Princess Lingfu carried the imperial edict of succession, and the second—far more alarming—was that a core official in the new administration formed in Jinling, following the southern escape of the ministers, was secretly betraying the Qi, code-named “Daman.”

“Daman” was a strange codename. Among the twenty-four solar terms, there was only “Xiaoman” and no “Daman.” This reflected the ancient wisdom of moderation—when water fills, it overflows; when the moon is full, it wanes. Yet this person boldly proclaimed himself “Daman,” with grand ambitions and clear signs of his vast desire.

What “Daman” knew, and what he had informed the Qi people, remained unknown. But finding the traitor was a task for Jinling, something Lidu Mansion couldn’t control. What Song Muchuan needed to do was send someone to meet Xu Kouyue and bring out the imperial edict.

Before this, no one knew of the existence of the edict.

With the Emperor captured by the Qi people and imprisoned, the situation had been urgent and no arrangements had been made for the future. Acting on necessity, the new dynasty supported King Ling’an because he was the only royal son not captured. However, King Ling’an was not the crown prince and had not received the edict, so his ascension was questioned, which led to political unrest. The officials were under immense pressure, and if they could obtain the imperial edict, everything would be legitimized.

The Emperor, imprisoned in the enemy camp, must have realized this and put in considerable effort to give the edict to Xu Kouyue, the only person likely to travel south.

But by the time Xu Kouyue arrived at Lidu Mansion, the place had fallen completely. The prefect had defected, King Ling’an was missing, and there seemed to be no trustworthy force left in the city. She likely didn’t know to whom she should deliver the edict, and thus had remained silent, waiting for the right moment and the right person.

When Nan Yi received this task, she too was somewhat stunned.

She had never understood why the princess endured such humiliation and still wanted to live. Now, it seemed she had a vague answer.

She was not content to simply get close to Xu Kouyue and bring the edict out. She also wanted to save the princess.

However, Wanyan Jun’s mansion was airtight. Her actions had to be not only steady but swift—an almost impossible task.