Chapter 91 Finding Her

Chapter 91: Locating Her

Sensing something amiss about Liu Yuenu, Jiang Wanrou remained cautious. On one hand, she wasn’t sure whether General Liu was friend or foe; on the other, their journey relied entirely on the agile and skilled warrior. She had no choice but to play along while secretly observing.

Gradually, she realized that aside from deviating from their planned route, Liu Yuenu treated her exceptionally well. General Liu, skilled in horsemanship and combat, also took care of chores like laundry, boiling water, and cooking without complaint. She seldom smiled, her sharp features and tall, athletic build lending her an aloof demeanor at first glance. But upon closer interaction, she proved to be a sincere and straightforward woman.

Jiang Wanrou had heard the rumors about her and deliberately avoided mentioning her "elder sister" in conversation. Yet Liu Yuenu was guileless—with a few careful questions, Jiang Wanrou gleaned most of the truth. Only after living together for some time and confirming that Liu Yuenu meant her no harm did she dare speak up.

As expected, Liu Yuenu stiffened, averting her gaze, her tone stiff: "The stove’s gone cold. I’ll fetch more firewood."

Jiang Wanrou tugged gently at her sleeve. "No need. The neighbor brought us some naan bread and goat’s milk—it’s enough for lunch."

Jiang Wanrou was stunningly beautiful, her curvaceous frame and fair, unblemished skin unweathered by the frontier’s harsh climate. Liu Yuenu had never restricted her freedom, figuring the village’s elderly, women, and children were no match for her—she could protect her easily.

But Jiang Wanrou knew the risks of drawing envy. She often veiled herself outdoors, feigning frailty to avoid notice. The generous neighbors, indebted to Liu Yuenu, often brought them small offerings.

Liu Yuenu pursed her lips. "I’ll hang the laundry."

"No need, I’ve already done it."

Though Liu Yuenu did the cooking and laundry, Jiang Wanrou refused to be idle. She was no longer a pampered noblewoman, nor did she wish to be.

She hung the furs Liu Yuenu hunted on the tent walls for warmth, cut the leftover meat into strips, salted them, and hung them to dry for winter. Even in a foreign land where she didn’t speak the language, she found ways to make life comfortable.

But Liu Yuenu wanted to spoil her "elder sister." With a slight frown, she said, "Sis, you shouldn’t trouble yourself."

"I’m perfectly capable—why shouldn’t I?" Jiang Wanrou smiled dismissively. "I wasn’t born a noblewoman. You don’t need to treat me like royalty."

Liu Yuenu’s affection was plain yet sincere. She had no taste for luxury, yet the women in her tent wore silks and jewels. Jiang Wanrou, once accustomed to opulence, sensed Liu Yuenu’s guilt about their hardships.

This only made Jiang Wanrou’s heart heavier. Liu Yuenu treated her so well, yet she had to shatter the illusion of peace between them.

Bracing herself, she said, "Sis, the departed are gone. If I had a sister like you, I’d want you to live well."

*Live well.*

Those had been her sister’s dying words. Liu Yuenu’s heart ached. After her sister’s death, she had numbed her pain with women who resembled her—until she met Jiang Wanrou.

She sang lullabies while patting her back, tucked her in at night, and held her hands tenderly, urging her to take care.

Her father resented her for not being a son; her mother despised her Turkic blood. Only her elder sister had ever loved her. The princess was just as tender, just as caring—why couldn’t she take her sister’s place?

Liu Yuenu couldn’t accept it. Clenching her fists in frustration, she lied to herself: "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Once resolved, Jiang Wanrou didn’t mince words. Gazing at Liu Yuenu, her voice was soft but firm.

"You do know, Sis. You’re a clever girl."

Rallying a rebel army, negotiating with Ling Xiao, rescuing her from a heavily guarded enemy camp—Liu Yuenu was no mere brute.

She just didn’t want to wake up.

"I’m not her. I can never replace her in your heart. But, Sis—"

Jiang Wanrou gently grasped her hand. "Though I’m not your real sister, I’ve grown to cherish you as one."

"She wouldn’t want to see you this way, and neither do I want you to dwell in the past."

Liu Yuenu’s body tensed tightly. Tall and slender, her piercing blue phoenix eyes gleamed like blades. Yet Jiang Wanrou wasn’t afraid. She gazed at her tenderly, and the two stared at each other in silence for a long time.

After what felt like an eternity, Liu Yuenu looked away, flustered, and snapped, "Don’t you dare abandon me!"

Jiang Wanrou smiled. "I’m not leaving you behind. But I’m Qi-born—this land doesn’t agree with me. I must return to the soil of the Qi Dynasty."

Here, she was being sly. Liu Yuenu’s mother had been abducted to the Turkic lands, and her life had been one of misery.

Sure enough, Liu Yuenu’s expression softened slightly. Her eyes dimmed as she muttered, "You’re just thinking about that prince, aren’t you?"

What’s so special about that Prince of Qi? Big and brutish, vicious as they come—he wasn’t even as good as that pretty-faced Pei fellow!

Ugh! No way—Sis is safest with me.

Liu Yuenu mentally weighed them, resentful, but Jiang Wanrou replied frankly, "He is my husband. Of course I miss him."

After all they’d been through, though Liu Yuenu had never let her suffer the slightest grievance, how could it compare to Lu Feng? No matter where she was, as long as he was by her side, she felt steady, unshaken by anything.

She tugged at Liu Yuenu’s sleeve, her soft voice carrying a hint of persuasion. "Sis, take me back to Weicheng. Our bond won’t change—you’ll always be my dear little sister."

Her dark, luminous eyes were impossible for Liu Yuenu to resist. She’d expected this, but it still stung. After a long silence, Liu Yuenu said, "There’s war outside. It’s dangerous."

"Let’s wait a little longer."

Disappointed yet unsurprised, Jiang Wanrou knew the girl was stubborn. She hadn’t expected to convince her in one go, but this was a good start. She would take it slow.

She would guide her gently, giving her time to come around.

The two ate lunch in silence. Perhaps unwilling to face her, Liu Yuenu excused herself afterward and left. Jiang Wanrou didn’t stop her, carefully fastening a woolen shawl around her shoulders and reminding her, "Be back before dark."

The village was peaceful, so Jiang Wanrou wasn’t worried about safety. She dismissed Liu Yuenu’s mention of "war" as an excuse. As evening approached, the wind suddenly picked up. The village windmill spun like mad, its groans thick with warning.

Jiang Wanrou stood, using bricks to weigh down the edges of the tent. Just as she was securing the flap, hurried footsteps sounded outside. Soon, chaotic noise surged like a tide—rapid, frantic running, interspersed with shouts she couldn’t understand, filled with panic.

Then came the biting wind and the dull thunder of hooves, pounding like hammers against the earth, shaking Jiang Wanrou’s heart. She peered through a slit in the tent—outside was chaos. Men grabbed long knives, women clutched children and bundles as they fled. She spotted the neighbor who had brought them milk that morning and the little girl who always skipped over to have her hair braided, now sobbing, her dark eyes wild with fear.

Though she couldn’t understand their words, Jiang Wanrou knew—someone was attacking!

She hastily retrieved a dagger from under her pillow, hiding it in her sleeve, gripping the hilt tightly. With Liu Yuenu gone, Jiang Wanrou took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm.

If these were pursuers, the villagers would surely hand over the two "outsiders." Capturing them wouldn’t require such a large-scale assault. Unless—could it be the Qi army?

The howling wind, galloping hooves, running footsteps, and the cries of women and children blended into a cacophony. Jiang Wanrou’s face paled as her mind raced: Were these pursuers or the Qi army? Would they recognize her? With her frail frame, should she risk fleeing or wait for Liu Yuenu’s return?

Before she could decide, the tent flap was slashed open by a blade. Liu Yuenu, streaked with dirt and windblown, grabbed Jiang Wanrou’s arm and said coldly, "Let’s go."

She moved like a soldier, swift and sure. Even as a woman, she shielded Jiang Wanrou from the jostling crowd, letting no one touch her. Liu Yuenu knew the terrain well, pulling Jiang Wanrou in the opposite direction of the fleeing villagers. Jiang Wanrou struggled to keep up, gasping for breath, until she spotted a horse. With a swift motion, Liu Yuenu wrapped an arm around Jiang Wanrou’s slender waist and lifted her onto the saddle.

Liu Yuenu spurred the horse forward, and it shot off like an arrow, their hair whipping in the wind. The air stank of burning. Tents were hacked apart, and flames devoured scraps of cloth and wooden frames in the distance, crackling loudly.

The further they rode, the more corpses Jiang Wanrou saw—burly men with gaping neck wounds, their eyes vacant; old men bristling with arrows, curled up as if still trying to pull them out; women shielding their children, their cries reduced to hoarse whispers. Tears and blood swirled together, the ground a gruesome tapestry of death.

Jiang Wanrou’s face turned ashen. These were Turkic people, but beyond their foreign speech and features, they were just ordinary folk. Some might have brought her firewood, others shared mutton, some had smiled at her in the morning—now all lifeless, their eyes unclosed.

The reek of blood turned her stomach, but she couldn’t burden Liu Yuenu. Soldiers in armor surrounded them, and Jiang Wanrou couldn’t tell if they were Qi troops or Turkic warriors. Their bayonets dripped red, the sight choking the air from her lungs.

Liu Yuenu shielded her while gripping the reins tightly when suddenly, a vicious arrow came streaking toward them. The horse beneath them let out an agonized scream, and Liu Yuenu's expression changed drastically. She braced herself with her elbow against the ground, using her body to protect Jiang Wanrou as they both tumbled down.

Jiang Wanrou whipped her head around in terror, looking back through the haze of blood and fire. A familiar, towering figure slowly approached her.

It was Lu Feng!

Still shaken, Jiang Wanrou wondered if she was dreaming. Lu Feng... had changed so much. A vicious scar marred his high brow, his cold eyes were bloodshot, his expression dark, and a murderous aura clung to him.

He stepped before her, knelt down, and fixed his dark gaze on her. Reaching out, he traced his fingers along her delicate cheek.