Chapter 42

Qingwu found the few men who were chasing them looking vaguely familiar. Just as she was about to turn her head to look back, the carriage made a series of sharp turns through a narrow alleyway and came to an abrupt halt in front of a bustling inn.

Du Jin pulled her down with him. Although his tone was suppressed, the tremor in his vocal cords was still perceptible. "A-wu, go inside first and ask the innkeeper to register a room."

This clearly meant he did not want her to overhear whatever he had to say to the coachman.

Qingwu did not press the matter. After stepping through the threshold, she suddenly remembered their current relationship and turned back. "One room or two?"

She inadvertently caught sight of Du Jin slipping a heavy purse of coins to the coachman, but she had missed their prior conversation.

Seeing her return, Du Jin offered a brief explanation. "Those men are from the capital. They must have recognized you. We will stay here for the night before heading back."

"How do you know they are from the capital?"

Ever since the annihilation of the General's Estate, he had been living in the Princess's Mansion. Anyone he knew, she was bound to know as well. Yet these individuals merely looked vaguely familiar, and she could not recall their names.

"Lingyu, you are hiding something from me." Qingwu did not force an answer. She left him with a meaningful glance and went inside to find the innkeeper.

Tonight, after the lantern festival, there were exceptionally many guests staying overnight. This inn was located near the main street and its business was thriving beyond measure. The innkeeper's eyes were creased into slits of joy, and he beamed happily at everyone he met. "Did the two of you travel all this way to see the lantern festival?"

Du Jin handed over the silver coins. "How did the innkeeper know?"

"Both of you speak the official court dialect. My cousin is married to a man from Bianjing, and my brother-in-law speaks with the exact same accent as you." Taking them for a young married couple, the innkeeper assigned them a room in the corner.

By the time Du Jin finished washing up, Qingwu was already fast asleep in the middle of the bed.

She slept with a tranquil grace, her collar half-open to reveal a smooth, lustrous white neck, and a cascade of disheveled dark hair spread across the silk pillow.

Du Jin kept watch by the bedside, and before he knew it, he rested his head on his crossed arms to catch some sleep.

Feeling cold as she turned over, Qingwu fumbled for the quilt piled at the foot of the bed. Opening her hazy eyes, she spotted a shadowy figure at the head of the bed. All her sleepiness vanished in an instant, and she bolted upright into a sitting position.

Du Jin had been sleeping lightly to begin with. Hearing the rustling, he raised his head, only to see the person on the bed lunging straight toward him. She held back none of her strength, presumably having just woken up and mistaking him for an assassin.

"A-wu, it's me."

He raised his arm to block, but fortunately, the person in front of her stopped just in time.

Just as Qingwu was about to close her hands around Du Jin's throat, she heard his voice. Although she retracted her hands with utmost speed, she still accidentally brushed against his arm.

His hands were icy from the autumn dew, and both his voice and movements were somewhat stiff from crouching by the bedside for who knows how long.

She cleared her throat, intending to say something, but was interrupted by a chaotic flurry of pounding at the door outside.

"The Southern Dynasty troops are coming again! Esteemed guests, stay inside your rooms and do not come out under any circumstances!" The innkeeper went from door to door passing on the warning, stirring up a wave of panic in the dead of night.

Thinking of returning to Peach Blossom Village early tomorrow morning, Qingwu lay back down with unconcern, turning sideways to make space. "Come up and sleep. I am not sick; you don't need to keep watch."

Du Jin pulled up the quilt to cover her and, yielding to her insistence, lay down slowly beside her fully clothed.

Finding it amusing, Qingwu suddenly turned around. The tip of her nose brushed against his lips as they faced one another.

Unprepared for her sudden move, Du Jin had only enough time to snap his eyes shut.

"Aren't you cold?" Qingwu tossed the edge of the blanket over him, creating two asymmetrical, undulating humps like camel backs under the covers.

Her breath was very close, continuously puffing against his collar and seeping into his loose robes.

Du Jin remained completely unmoving. Qingwu stretched out her fingertip and gently stroked his long eyelashes.

The tips of his eyelashes trembled visibly to the naked eye, and his shadowy silhouette froze instantly.

The moment Du Jin opened his eyes, Qingwu tucked her hands back under the quilt, wriggled into a comfortable position, closed her eyes, and said with a smile in her voice, "Sleep now. We still have to leave the city early tomorrow morning."

---

At the Hour of Yin, the battle outside the city finally ceased, and the beacon fires dissipated.

The chill in the autumn wind grew increasingly biting, carrying a whistling gale that whipped up a long, fine drizzle. A crimson sun crested the mountains, and the army, having just survived a fierce battle, was shrouded in a desolate, trembling vastness.

The devastation of war still lingered outside the city, and the two of them were informed that they could not leave yet.

"Once the victorious army returns to the city later, even the streets will be off-limits to idlers. You two may rest assured and stay a while longer in my shop." The innkeeper checked them out of their room and led the guests stranded by the lockdown to the second-floor tearoom. "My place faces the street; we might even catch a glimpse of the soldiers returning."

In his early thirties, the innkeeper bustled about wiping tables before running off to brew tea.

The inn was packed with overnight guests from the previous night. Realizing they would not be able to leave anytime soon, they gathered near the main hall to chat.

"The innkeeper is so young, why is your hair already white?"

Qingwu had put her veil back on and sat in a corner by the window, far away from the others. But the innboard was small after all, and no matter how far away she hid, she could still hear their voices.

"Ah," the innkeeper served a plate of stored fruit and sighed. "An accident happened on the way to offer incense. My wife and eldest son are both gone. Now there is only my youngest son left, and he was conscripted into the army several months ago and hasn't returned."

"Reinforcements have arrived from the capital; this battle is sure to be won. If your son has performed meritorious service, your blessings are yet to come." The others offered words of comfort, and the topic quickly drifted elsewhere.

Qingwu and Du Jin exchanged a glance, then silently looked away, trying to keep their presence as low-key as possible.

After all, unlike a small place like Peach Blossom Village, a border city still had many people who could understand the official capital dialect. In such a borderland, people from the capital were either wealthy or noble and easily became the focus of gossip.

"They've won! They've won!" someone shouted outside, prompting everyone to rush to the window to watch the returning troops. As they crowded together, they noticed that both Du Jin and Qingwu remained silent, creating a very oppressive atmosphere, and tacitly avoided their area.

The sound of marching boots was crisp and uniform. Qingwu opened a narrow gap about the width of a single finger and gazed calmly downward.

The victorious army was still far from the inn. She could vaguely make out several people riding horses at the front, while the ordinary soldiers followed on foot behind them, forming an endless, serpentine procession.

In less than a year, the ones defending against foreign enemies were no longer the generals of the Yong Dynasty.

Qingwu pressed her lips together, a sour ache blooming in her heart.

The formation drew slowly closer. The leader rode at the very front, sitting tall and upright with a posture as straight as a pine. The robes fluttering around him and the fresh blood smeared across his armor exuded a heavy, oppressive air.

The golden sun pierced through the misty sky, bathing his slender figure in the orange-clouded gaps. Riding a white horse with a silver saddle, he looked like a sharp sword cleaving through darkness.

Hiding behind the window lattice, Qingwu could only faintly sense the sharp killing intent emanating from his light armor, and could not help asking the innkeeper, "Is the man at the very front the Governor of Qizhou?"

"Young lady, don't speak recklessly," the innkeeper motioned for her to lower her voice. "I hear that this time, a noble from Bianjing is personally leading the troops. Ordinary folks like us cannot guess the intentions of those above."

"Has Bianjing not established a ruler yet? Where did this noble come from?" Even though Qizhou was a border city, it still had some understanding of affairs in the capital, especially major events like the succession of imperial power.

A young man immediately chimed in, "That's right. No new emperor has been enthroned, so why all the taboos?"

"The Emperor of Yong surrendered the city, the only son of the Southern Dynasty's queen has been reduced to a prisoner, and all thirty-four prefectures now belong to the borderlands. Isn't declaring oneself emperor just a matter of time?" A tall man stood up, summarizing the events of the past few months.

The person beside him curled his lip in utter disdain. "You mean that faction that popped up halfway through? People of unknown identity want to declare themselves emperor?"

"Are you hoping the Southern Dynasty takes control of Bianjing instead?" came an immediate retort.

The chaos of half a year ago was still fresh in memory. After entering the city, Qi Yu's forces had plundered and burned without restraint, leaving countless families with indelible psychological scars.

The man who spoke earlier remained unconvinced. "If everyone disregards etiquette and royal law, won't the world fall into utter chaos?"

Those who had been laughing and chatting just moments ago now began shouting at each other over minor disagreements.

"He managed to reclaim land seized by foreign tribes, and he treats all our prefectures equally. In times of trouble, naturally, whoever has the ability becomes king. As long as he treats the common people well, I don't care about his background or identity!" This statement won the approval of the majority. The man who had just spoken drained his cup of tea in sullen silence and said no more.

Qingwu lowered her head silently, her expression slightly dazed.

She had thought she had completely let go, but upon accidentally hearing such remarks, it felt as though an extremely fine needle had pierced her heart, sending a gripping pain spreading bit by bit.

Du Jin sat down beside her, took her hand, placed it on his knee, and clasped it tightly.

He knew she was thinking of the emperor, but with so many people present, he could not offer much comfort.

Qingwu bowed her back slightly, her face betraying no excess emotion.

Hearing the sound of marching boots passing the carved window, she used her knuckle to push the window gap open slightly.

The gap was only about seven or eight parts long—the width of two buttons side by side.

The man leading the troops ahead seemed to sense something and suddenly turned his head.

Qingwu blinked her eyelids, and suddenly her eyes felt as though they had been filled with lead, refusing to open.

A sharp pain surged through the back of her head. She felt as though she were sinking into a bottomless, dark spring; her body swayed gently, and she collapsed directly.

---

Pei Muchen removed his blood-stained cloak and changed into a clean moon-white robe after bathing.

His half-dry, ink-black hair was unfastened, accentuating a serene, noble, and handsome face devoid of any ripple of emotion.

"My lord, our casualties were under five hundred. The wounded soldiers will either be sent to the medical bureau or back to their home clans, depending on their wishes," An Qi reported.

Mei Yong handled all the cleanup. Having dealt with it many times over, he managed these tasks with practiced ease.

"Mng." Pei Muchen flicked his sleeve, his jade-like, slender, and well-proportioned fingers gripping the brush as he began to write without hesitation.

The woman taking shape beneath his brush had a delicate face, a slender waist, and a poised, tranquil demeanor. The image that had been painted a million times over in his mind was vividly transferred onto the xuan paper.

He handed the translucent xuan paper casually to An Qi, speaking as indifferently as if he were assigning a trivial chore: "Find an artist to copy this and bring people to search for her tomorrow."

An Qi did not dare to be negligent and immediately rushed out of the mansion to find an artist with adequate skill.

On the way, he passed a bustling roadside tavern where the innkeeper sat on the ground wailing loudly, cursing the war for bringing ruin.

An Qi shook his head, thinking that perhaps this place had received severely wounded soldiers sent back from the battlefield whom the family could not accept losing.

He planned to visit the painting studio first and return later to offer some comfort.

Lying beside the innkeeper was a blood-soaked man, sleeping silently on a stretcher that had just been carried in, looking as dead as a corpse.

Yet the military doctor insisted he was still alive, though no one knew when he might wake up—or if he might stop breathing the very next second.

Upon hearing the news, the innkeeper had collapsed into hysterical screams, impervious to the attempts of the surrounding crowd to comfort him.

"The lad merely saw blood on the battlefield; he was just frightened out of his wits."

A customer in the tavern echoed, "That's right, at least he saved his life for now."

In truth, the messenger had made it quite clear: wounded soldiers capable of recovery were kept in the military camp for treatment, and only those with incurable, severe injuries were sent home to spend their final moments with their families.

"This is the last remaining seedling of our family, how could this happen?" The innkeeper had cried to the point where his sobs were weak and breathless. Just moments earlier, he had been watching the victorious military procession return to the city; the next second, a calamity had struck from the heavens.

Those who heard this turned away in unbearable grief, their faces sorrowful.

"Why don't you go hire some better physicians in the city to examine him again?" the tall man suggested, and another chimed in, "Those famous doctors aren't cheap. If they can't cure him, wouldn't it be a waste of money?"

"As long as my son can be saved, I'll give up anything," the innkeeper said, his composure returning slightly.

Just as he spoke, Du Jin stepped down from the staircase.

Qingwu was still asleep in the room, unconscious.

"Let me try." Du Jin crouched beside the boy and pressed his fingers against the pulse under his neck.

Not expecting him to be a physician, and associating him with the capital where medical skills were surely superior to those here, the innkeeper felt as though he had found a savior. Scrambling up from the ground in a panic, he reached out to grasp Du Jin's hand.

Du Jin stepped back and instructed the innkeeper to have his son carried to the inner chamber, deciding to go upstairs first to bring Qingwu down.

He was always single-minded when practicing medicine, and fearing something might happen to Qingwu during that time, he felt at ease only when he kept her by his side.

"You and your esteemed wife share such deep affection," the innkeeper remarked, noticing that the two had been inseparable since entering the shop. Even after the young woman had inexplicably fainted, this man had tended to her personally without delegating the task to anyone else.

Du Jin placed Qingwu on the soft couch inside the room and instructed the innkeeper to disperse the curious onlookers.

"I haven't asked you yet, how are the fees calculated?" The innkeeper simply closed up shop for the day and brought in a thin quilt from outside.

"All I need you to do is help arrange a comfortable carriage and two fast horses. I must take my wife away from here immediately," Du Jin said, taking the blanket and draping it over Qingwu. "And I must trouble you to keep our identities secret—please do not mention our whereabouts to anyone else. No other payment is necessary."

The innkeeper nodded repeatedly. Seeing Du Jin produce a pouch of silver needles, he tactfully retreated to the wine shop counter to check account ledgers and disburse silver to source a superior carriage.

As dusk fell, the inner chamber remained quiet. The moonlight waned, gradually squeezed out by the blazing rays of the morning sun.

The dark night passed just as quietly.

*Creak—*

The wooden door of the inner chamber opened from within.

Just as the innkeeper was about to step forward with a pot of warm water, he discovered that the person emerging was none other than his own son.

The boy dropped to his knees before him with a heavy thud, calling out "Father" with a tearful choke.

Exhausted, Du Jin packed up his needle pouch, entrusted Qingwu temporarily to the innkeeper, and quickly gathered his things before coming downstairs.

"You are truly our family's benefactor. Won't you stay for a simple meal and let my unfilial son offer you a toast?" Grateful beyond words, the innkeeper wished to show his heartfelt appreciation.

Anxious as he felt the probing gazes outside falling upon him, Du Jin felt a surge of agitation and firmly insisted on leaving.

Unable to make them stay, the innkeeper led the two to the prepared carriage.

Du Jin supported Qingwu by the waist, slipped his other arm beneath the backs of her knees, and lifted her horizontally, using his knee to push open the carriage's fabric curtain.

Her veil shifted up and down, revealing a delicate chin of dazzling whiteness.

Her skin was white as snow, glowing with a crystal-clear, gentle radiance—exquisite, translucent, cold, and pristine.

The innkeeper swallowed hard.

He had assumed the young woman kept her veil on because her face was disfigured, but she turned out to be a beauty unlike anything ever seen in border cities like Qizhou—unforgettable at first glance.

Just as he was about to take another look, the carriage curtain dropped. A familiar customer passing by on the street called out to him, "Well, what do you know! I said your son was blessed with good fortune, and he's recovered in just one night?"

"It was sheer luck; we ran into a divine physician," the innkeeper replied. With no burdens left on his mind, his spirits were naturally high and his voice robust.

Xu Ying, who was stationed on the street with several household servants searching for people based on portraits, happened to hear this remark. Her heart skipped a beat; she memorized the name of the inn and hurried back to the prefectural yamen to report to Pei Muchen.