Chapter 61

Damn, what is this? This is like forcing a duck onto a perch!

Gu Wan almost jumped up instantly, but when she lowered her head, she met Xie Ci’s eyes, filled with heartbreak and desperate pleading.

In that moment, his posture was so humble he seemed to kneel in the dust, laying everything down before her, begging.

Gu Wan’s heart trembled. She had an instinctive feeling—if she refused him now, it would be the final straw that broke the camel’s back.

She licked her lips, utterly confused and helpless. She had struggled to think through what to do about this, but before she could figure it out, everything was shattered to pieces.

She looked up at the sky, then at Xie Ci, unable to say a word.

Xie Ci clung tightly to her waist. She struggled twice but couldn’t break free. Tears rolled down Gu Wan’s cheeks, a pang squeezing her chest, blurring her vision.

But she truly had thought about it seriously. Xie Ci’s feelings—she’d felt them, solid and real. It was different from those old, unspoken affections from others; Xie Ci was not like them.

Other people’s devotion, even if she couldn’t reciprocate in full, deserved to be treated with respect and seriousness. In fact, over the past two days, she had come to realize that silence and avoidance were no longer the best way forward.

Earlier, Xie Ci’s softly spoken, “Let the spirit return,” had truly shaken her. She’d wondered if she should face reality. But the thought pained her, so she hadn’t forced herself to continue.

But Xie Ci’s timing was just right. Those sorrowful, pleading eyes left her unable to reject him, unable to deal another heavy blow. Her mind was in chaos, no escape; and in that confusion, she finally sobbed out, “...Fine, fine, just let go first!”

As soon as she shouted, she broke free from him. Damn it, her tears were streaming. She kicked and hit him, cursing, “You little bastard!”

But Xie Ci was no child anymore.

He’d grown into a man as strong as a pillar holding up the sky.

Yet he said nothing, only held her tighter, enduring her kicks and punches without making a sound.

Gu Wan was furious, slapped his hand away, and in exasperation threw herself onto the ground: “Xie Ci, I really give up on you! What kind of person are you!”

...

Gu Wan had lost all interest in playing the emotional mentor. She glared at Xie Ci, managed only a couple of words, then stormed off. Still, she couldn’t rest easy about him. Though angry, she went to find Qin Ying.

When Qin Ying hurried up the hilltop,

Xie Ci was still standing quietly there.

He heard the sound of hooves and turned. Qin Ying arrived from afar, stopped her horse at the foot of the hill, quickly dismounted, and strode up to him. He watched her draw closer, finally standing before him.

The wind howled, fluttering strands of hair from beneath Xie Ci’s discarded helmet. In a hoarse voice, he said, “Second Sister-in-law, am I despicable?”

Xie Ci had to admit, his emotions were genuine, but there was some calculation, too. In that instant, he’d intuitively sensed Gu Wan couldn’t refuse him, so he’d acted. As expected, things went his way.

He should have been pleased, but guilt flooded him, mingling with old sorrows into a cold, fragile flower about to shatter, reflected in his eyes and face, pain at a touch.

But unexpectedly, Qin Ying smacked his forehead hard, scolding, “Despicable, my foot!”

She grabbed Xie Ci and rushed him down the hill to the riverbank, then pointed at his reflection in the calm water, “Look at yourself! What do you look like now?!”

Qin Ying was both pained and angry. She knew everything Xie Ci had lived through—the shattering of his worldview, the pain of joining the ranks of a once-despised power. But she could not let him go on like this!

“Open your eyes, look at yourself, then look at me!”

Qin Ying’s voice was sharp.

Wasn’t she a Xie family member too? Wasn’t it her husband, her beloved, her child’s father, her father-in-law and brother-in-law who had died? Yes, she didn’t have to walk step by step into the war office like Xie Ci, but in just two days and nights, she had pulled herself together again!

“Tell me, what’s wrong with what we’ve done?”

Qin Ying challenged him: “They didn’t see things clearly and died. Why is it wrong that we have to go on living?!”

“Besides, thirty years east of the river, thirty years west—who knows what’s ahead?!”

“Don’t talk about being despicable or not! When you have the power to choose, then ponder what’s right or wrong! Until then, it’s all nonsense! Utter rubbish!”

“Have we hurt anyone? Xie Ci, look back—how many soldiers and civilians in the Northern Army are alive because of you!”

Qin Ying seized Xie Ci’s shoulders. He was already much taller, but standing on the mound, she met his gaze, word by word: “Xie Ci, you did the right thing. We haven’t harmed anyone. We just want to survive!”

She studied him closely, and finally, her tone softened, “You’re extraordinary—so decisive and bold. I’m truly glad. I don’t think you did anything wrong.”

Qin Ying pulled a stack of letters from her sleeve, which had arrived the day before but she hadn’t had time to deliver. She’d made a special trip to fetch them.

“Look at these?”

Xie Ci stared blankly at his reflection, his face heavy, brows shadowed as if covered by ancient frost.

Then he looked at Qin Ying; her eyes still showed faint traces of last night’s tears, but all of it had transformed into resolute determination. “If there’s no road ahead, we’ll carve one out! Until the end, no one can say we’re wrong!”

Xie Ci’s heart jolted as he took the thick stack of letters she handed him—family letters from Madam Xun, Xie Mingming, his elder sisters-in-law, Xie Wulang, even a crooked scrawl from little Niuniu, who had just begun her studies.

All the letters spoke of daily life, gentle and warm, ending with words of kind advice.

Niuniu, letter written one character per page, said, “Fourth Uncle, you must eat well.” His third sister-in-law said no one taught her; she wanted to say it herself.

Just fourteen, Xie Mingming wrote solemnly to his fourth uncle, saying he was now of age and sincerely hoped to join him and help.

So earnest, he said he’d already gotten Grandma and Mother’s consent.

Xie Ci read each letter; emotions surged, all his pent-up feelings melted into tears. He truly felt that everything he’d done was worth it!

“Second Sister-in-law!”

Finally, Xie Ci covered his face with the letters, tears pouring out. “You’re right, you’re right!” The great weight that had pressed on his heart finally loosened at the sight of these letters.

Qin Ying let out a long breath, finally smiling a little. She looked up at the sky. Knowing the truth, she wasn’t much surprised—it all made sense, didn’t it?

She gently patted Xie Ci’s shoulder.

He didn’t cry for long; he couldn’t bear to wet the letters. Carefully, he wiped his face with the inside of his trousers, then looked up—his eyes like washed glass, as clear as the sky after rain.

He put Xie Mingming’s letter on top. “Second Sister-in-law, I told Feng Kun I want to be an upright member of the Xie family again. I want Shuofang.”

He glanced down at Mingming’s letter: “Next year, I’ll bring Mingming here.”

Determination shone between his brows. If all went well, next year he could reclaim his name, and the Xie family would no longer have to live in hiding.

All his resistance dissolved, replaced with fierce resolve. “Second Sister-in-law, I’ll make them pay in blood!”

Lin Guozhang, Zheng Shoufang, and even—at that moment, a wild, nearly heretical thought flashed through his mind, then vanished.

Qin Ying drew a deep breath. “Of course! Evil deeds rebound in the end. But remember—don’t be hasty.”

That was obvious, and Xie Ci nodded. “I know, Second Sister-in-law.”

He felt much better now. The swirling willow fluff in the air looked like part of the summer scenery, and when he gazed over the battlefields below, he no longer felt only oppression.

He folded the letters neatly, put them back in their envelopes, and after organizing them all, finally whispered, “Second Sister-in-law, I think I did something wrong.”

Anxious, he couldn’t help looking in the direction Gu Wan had left, and quietly told Qin Ying what had just happened. Qin Ying couldn’t help but laugh, “No, you didn’t do wrong—you did exactly right!”

Xie Ci looked up in surprise. Qin Ying leaned in and said, “Just pretend not to know—she’s agreed, so go along with it and don’t back down.”

Hearing this, Qin Ying was a bit surprised—had Gu Wan ever been in love before? How come no one in the family knew? But now it was beside the point. Qin Ying laid her elbow on his shoulder and said something that shook him to his core: “Silly boy, the best way to get over an old love is to start a new one.”

Xie Ci was dumbfounded—was that how it worked?

Qin Ying nodded firmly. “Listen to me—stick close, get jealous if you must. If you like her, show it and let her see!”

“But don’t rush—” Qin Ying calculated, “you’d better wait a few days before acting.” Wait until things calm down.

Only now did Qin Ying feel truly relieved. This was good. With proper work to do, and people and things to occupy his mind, the road ahead for Xie Ci would only grow wider—he’d never fall back again.

The men of the Xie family were all the same, but the earlier ones never had the chance to be tested and refined. She hoped the fourth would rise anew from the ashes and see this road through to the end.

Qin Ying was truly grateful they had Gu Wan. Otherwise, there were many things she, as a sister-in-law, simply could not do.

The two of them stood by the riverbank. Xie Ci looked down at his reflection—the gloom between his brows was gone, replaced with solidity and resilience.

He looked back across the land and camps, his gaze finally returning to the direction Gu Wan had gone.

“Yes.”

A few days—he’d remember that.

But it wouldn’t be just a few days.

That long night, almost no one slept soundly till dawn. In the governor’s tent—

The window and tent door were lifted, letting in a damp breeze that fluttered the gold-red cushions and silk tassels on the arhat bed.

Feng Kun reclined by the window, the gold wires on his official cap shimmering. He stared expressionlessly at the stars, weighing his thoughts.

To this day, Xie Ci was indeed the best candidate—without equal.

He curled his lips in a cold smile, but his phoenix eyes showed no trace of amusement. So be it.

Very well.

The days flew by, and half a month passed. The war was truly over.

The Beirong were finally driven out through the Malian and Guihuan passes. The remaining scattered troops were mopped up, and the two passes were rebuilt and garrisoned with triple the previous forces. The battlefield was finally cleared.

Everyone was busy during this time; Xie Ci even more so. That night, he wrote back to Xie Mingming: just wait a little, and by next year, your fourth uncle will come for you himself.

He had to arrange all affairs to set out for the unknown capital and also finish the official tasks of mopping up and honoring the fallen, leaving him no time to seek out Gu Wan. Finally, as June drew to an end and autumn approached, Feng Kun ordered everyone to return to the capital.

The autumn heat had not yet arrived, but the green plains already felt a touch of chill. The foxtail grass had grown thick and fluffy, and the tips of the reed leaves were tinged with yellow.

At dawn, the horns sounded long and deep.

The last of the camp was packed up, and the troops headed off, marching in a long line toward Qingshui Pass. At the head, of course, were the governor’s carriage and the prince’s retinue, banners fluttering.

The Lin family supported the third prince without question, while Feng Kun supported Consort Mu and the fourth prince. With his backing, mother and son had reached their current heights. Xie Ci and the others weren’t summoned to an audience—such things would come later, but for now, the lines were drawn.

Everyone’s armor was polished, black and gleaming. They rode in formation, the column moving out. At the rear, Xie Ci and his group were saying their farewells.

At last, Xie Ci saw Gu Wan. She ignored him, busy with Qin Ying, waving goodbye to Qin Wenxuan.

Those departing today, aside from Qin Xian and Chen Yan, included Xun Xiao and Qin Wenxuan.

Qin Wenxuan, having nursed her father and worried about Xun Xiao, had grown thinner but was in the best of spirits.

She and Xun Xiao had changed into civilian clothes, each on horseback, standing in the tall grass. She smiled and waved, her eyes bright again, her face serene and lovely.

Gu Wan didn’t ask much about how things had gone between her and Xun Xiao, but Xun Xiao seemed better than before. He was headed to the steppe to search for Xun Xun—who had been forced to abandon Suzhou during the final battle. Even a mere rumor was deadly for a Beirong prince.

Let alone now, when Xie Ci’s side still had Feng Kun’s support.

Qin Wenxuan was going with Xun Xiao to the grasslands.

Given Xun Xiao’s unique identity, they didn’t linger. After waving, they rode off, soon disappearing into the tall grass and distant plains.

It hadn’t been easy!

Gu Wan smiled, lowering her hand with a heartfelt wish for them.

“Let’s go.”

Xie Ci rode over, seeing she’d finally looked away, and spoke softly.

Gu Wan gave him a sidelong glance—so many people around, she had to show him some respect, so she nodded.

The column moved forward, with Li Yi at the head. At Xie Ci’s order, everyone merged into the march to the capital. Xie Ci’s appointment had come: Commander of the Capital Garrison, tasked with training the capital troops and serving as Guard Commander of the Golden Shield.

Qin Xian and the others returned to their posts, while Qin Guan, Chen Luo, Chen Lang, He Yuan, and He Rong stayed, following Xie Ci to the capital.

Black armor, warhorses, silent and imposing—by now, Xie Ci was no longer the bloodstained orphan he’d once been. But as he crossed Longshan Pass toward the Yellow River and the capital, gazing at the familiar road and landscape, he stared coldly at the distant capital.

Returning to the heart of the empire, everyone was filled with emotion, but that needn’t be recounted here.

Pulling his horse into the post station, Xie Ci was about to approach Gu Wan, but she waved him off like swatting a mosquito. Go away! Before they could exchange another word, a voice came at the gate—Feng Kun had summoned them. About to enter the capital, this would surely be serious business.

Xie Ci and Gu Wan exchanged a glance, instantly schooling their expressions. “Let’s go.”

Gu Wan was still in her bodyguard attire, wasted no words, and followed Xie Ci with Xie Yun and the others to the main building.

Li Yi emerged, fully dressed. They exchanged looks and entered together.

The room had been cleared. Feng Kun, in a crimson robe embroidered with golden qilin, official cap on his head, stood inspecting a painted wood thrush cage.

Chancellor Feng! Chancellor Feng!

Xie Ci and Li Yi bowed deeply. Feng Kun nodded, handed the cage to a waiting eunuch, who carried it off.

He sat at the head and gestured with his chin. “Sit.”

“We’re nearly in the capital.”

Feng Kun eyed Xie Ci’s disguised face. “Not bad makeup,” he said, but his smile vanished. “Your next task is to head south to Jiangnan and investigate the embezzlement and emptying of the three major grain depots in Jiangning.

It was the very case that had led to Li Yi’s demotion in his previous life. When the army mobilized and needed provisions, they found Jiang, Ning, and Jia’s main granaries almost empty—sold off to the last grain. The case had been put aside during the war, awaiting judgment afterward.

Feng Kun leaned in slightly, curling his lip at Xie Ci, his eyes sharp and cold. “There are four suspects: Chief Granary Officer Han Jingtai, Northwest Supply Officer Fan Qian, Yan Daguang, and Jiangning’s military governor Zheng Shouzhu.”

“This Zheng Shouzhu is Zheng Shoufang’s brother, and one of the Inner Guard.”

Xie Ci’s eyes snapped up. Feng Kun gazed down at him. “Yes, I can tell you plainly: Zheng Shoufang did this.”

Phoenix eyes swept the two of them. Feng Kun said coldly, “Your mission is to pin this on Zheng Shoufang—see him destroyed!”

Feng Kun stood, boots spotless, qilin robe glowing with dragon embroidery. He looked them over, then leaned in and said to Xie Ci, “The Xie family’s case may not be overturned, but a general amnesty is possible. If you do this task perfectly, the amnesty—or Shuofang—will be yours.”

Feng Kun smiled, his face beautiful yet dangerous, as alluring and deadly as a poppy in sunlight. His eyes flashed.

Xie Ci’s fists clenched. He bowed low, one knee to the ground. “I, Xie Ci, will do my utmost!”

Feng Kun’s pale face made his lips seem all the redder. He was very satisfied. “Good! Very good!”

In the corridor at the edge of the courtyard, several bodyguards stood waiting. Gu Wan’s heart pounded.

Can we really do this?

She knew enough about Feng Kun—he’d appeared in the original story as one of the main villains, tormenting Li Yi almost to death. She remembered this deadly beauty well—ruthless, skilled, leaving a trail of blood. Yet his love was tragic; Consort Mu was both his cousin and childhood sweetheart. When her family was executed, he was made a eunuch, and she walked a thousand miles to the palace to tell him there were countless ways to live, but live he must.

He promised her he would.

She left in tears.

Later, when the imperial consort selection came, Consort Mu’s stepmother pushed her forward for money, and after being chosen, she was separated by the palace wall—lovers turned strangers for years, unable to attain their love.

But the reality of the court’s power structure wasn’t as outsiders believed. The old emperor might have favored Feng Kun, and he was indeed one of the two leading power brokers. The difference was, Feng Kun was never truly obedient—he was plotting revenge.

The old emperor, for his part, did not truly favor Feng Kun; he despised him, using him only to counter Lin Guozhang’s growing faction.

For decades, the old emperor had fought his father, then his brothers, then sons, each time propping up a new faction to check the last.

Every time he brought up a new power, it was someone formidable—each time, things spun out of control, wounding him deeply.

Feng Kun hovered between upending the court and supporting the fourth prince’s claim, already holding power within the palace. Lin Guozhang was just as ruthless. With the emperor above, the capital was a powder keg.

But Feng Kun had one advantage: for anyone who joined him, he always kept his promises—swift, precise, and ruthless.

The old emperor knew of Feng Kun and Consort Mu’s affair, but not that they were cousins and that Feng Kun sought his death.

Gu Wan mulled over Feng Kun’s words and found no issues. As long as he kept his word, nothing else mattered.

Xie Ci thought the same.

Why Feng Kun chose him for this task no longer mattered.

After conferring with Li Yi, he sent Xie Yun to brief Qin Guan and the others. Xie Ci sat behind the broad desk, calm.

Gu Wan had hinted earlier—such a sly emperor, such a ruthless Feng Kun, “We might get dragged into this.” But Xie Ci thought, leave it be for now.

Too early to worry.

Feng Kun was shrewd—returning to the capital was always a leap into fire, but more fire made little difference. Once Feng Kun offered his terms, Xie Ci had made up his mind.

Even if Jiangning was a den of dragons, he’d charge in!

Nothing more needed saying.

Decision made.

Gu Wan had no objections. “Yes, that’s not bad.”

But who knew? The outcome of the Qingshui campaign was already different; Beirong had been driven back early. Would there still be a plague in the royal court, or an emperor abducted with the gates breached?

No way to tell, but building strength in such times was surely wise.

So be it—everyone, rest up.

Xie Ci was brief; everyone stood, saluted, and exited.

Gu Wan shot him a glance as she left; Xie Ci hurried after, grabbing her wrist, “Wanwan?”

Wanwan—he’d learned to be a scoundrel. Who’d taught him that? Gu Wan was near the front, but Xie Ci, with a leap, caught her before she could step out.

Gu Wan: ...

But with so many people around, Gu Wan didn’t want to let their private matters show, so she paused and let him walk with her, hand in hand.

“I’ll walk you back?”

Gu Wan shook off his hand. Xie Ci didn’t mind, escorting her all the way back until she was inside.

He stood outside a while, listening to her moving about before quietly saying, “Sorry, but I still like you.”

Qin Ying had told him to stand firm, but Xie Ci still felt he owed Gu Wan an apology.

His voice was so low, she’d never have heard it, but the old wooden walls, cracked and mossy, carried the faint sound in on the wind.

Just as always, he waited till she was inside, then left.

Gu Wan let out a breath, oh my, rubbing her face before flopping onto the bed with a groan.

But her anger had cooled, and what was said couldn’t be taken back. Xie Ci’s behavior reminded her of something she’d read in a past life—

He might not know what it means to date, but he knows how to treat someone he likes well. He might not know how to pursue a woman, but he knows never to be careless with the one he loves.

All his sincerity is offered to one person alone.

When she first read that, the last line had struck her. And now, today, she thought of it again.

Gu Wan opened her eyes and sighed. Maybe it was time she faced reality.

She’d grown indifferent, unwilling to think or get involved, but now Xie Ci had dug it all back up.

Gu Wan wasn’t one to drag things out. She sat up, hugged her knees, and thought for half an hour before finally opening the door.

In the tranquil night, her small boots pattered across the courtyard. As her footsteps stopped outside the door, the panels were suddenly flung open.

Xie Ci, dressed in white sleepwear, pulled open the door. The night wind stirred Gu Wan’s loose hair and deep violet cloak; her pale face glowed in the dusk, and her clear, luminous eyes sparkled like the moon.

She said, “Xie Ci, give me just a little more time. It won’t be long.”

But she truly needed a bit of time. When she’d settled her heart and let go of the past, she would begin to love him.