Chapter 93 He Loves Her

Chapter 93: His Devotion

Thanks to this "General Liu," if it weren’t for her intentional deception along the way, he wouldn’t have found her so late!

Lu Feng’s gaze was sharp as a blade. Jiang Wanrou also knew about Liu Yuenu’s meddling and inwardly cried, "This is bad!" Habitually, she tugged at his sleeve, about to plead for mercy, when a piece of pastry was abruptly stuffed into her mouth, leaving her choking and unable to utter a complete sentence.

When Jiang Wanrou ate, her cheeks puffed up charmingly, her dark, glistening eyes wide. Lu Feng’s expression remained unreadable, and whether intentional or not, every time she opened her mouth, he fed her another pastry. Wary, Jiang Wanrou struggled in his arms, but the carriage was too cramped to escape. As they struggled inside, the carriage came to an unnoticed halt.

"Your Highness, we’ve arrived at Wujin City."

Wujin was a strategic stronghold of the Turkic people, guarding the critical passage between Turkic lands and the Qi Dynasty. The terrain was treacherous, filled with towering mountains and deep valleys—easy to defend, hard to attack. The deepest arrow wound on Lu Feng’s chest had come from here.

Now occupied by Qi forces, this battle had shaken the Turkic court, increasing the number of those advocating for peace. The newly ascended Modu had sought to wage war for wealth and prestige, only to encounter a man even more relentless—Lu Feng. What had begun as Turkic aggression had now become a conflict Lu Feng refused to end.

During their journey, Liu Yuenu had mostly told Jiang Wanrou about Turkic customs and culture. Unaware of the war’s specifics, Jiang Wanrou only noticed the eerie silence around them—nothing but the wind, the clatter of hooves, and the heavy, orderly footsteps of soldiers.

Resisting being carried out by Lu Feng, she fidgeted. Lu Feng didn’t force her, instead ordering a veiled hat with white gauze for her. Through the thin white gauze, the mansion before her differed markedly from Qi-style residences—no ornate beams or upturned eaves, just towering, thick walls surrounded by soldiers clad in black armor, their long swords at their waists. They stood in dense formation, securing the estate in an impenetrable ring.

The heavy atmosphere sent shivers down Jiang Wanrou’s spine, and she instinctively leaned closer to Lu Feng. He glanced down. "Cold?"

She shook her head. The place was too quiet, unnerving her. In this unfamiliar land, she sought warmth from Lu Feng, unaware that the man beside her was the source of it all.

Lu Feng said, "Endure it a little longer. We’ll return soon."

His "return" meant going back after the war—to the Prince of Qi’s residence, not General Liu’s estate in Weicheng. Jiang Wanrou didn’t catch the implication. The mansion had once belonged to a high-ranking Turkic official. Though not sprawling, its furnishings were exquisite. Lu Feng led her to his room and said, "You’ll stay here from now on. Don’t go out."

Back in the capital, Lu Feng had always stayed in Jiang Wanrou’s quarters. She had decorated Jin Guang Courtyard warmly and comfortably—a tea table, a daybed, a rosewood peony screen, a pearwood lounger for enjoying the view—everything one could desire. But Lu Feng, living alone, had none of these comforts. His vast room held only a wide bed, a set of imposing armor hanging on a rack in the corner, and a weapon stand with orderly-arranged blades and crossbows, their edges glinting coldly.

Jiang Wanrou truly felt a chill now.

Fortunately, Lu Feng knew his wife was a pampered peony. Soon, a group of maids with Qi features filed in, laying down pristine white wool rugs and lighting braziers in each corner. Together, they erected a large screen to shield off the bed, creating a small alcove with a desk outside.

At first, Jiang Wanrou didn’t understand the arrangement. After bathing and changing with the maids’ help, she saw Lu Feng seated at the desk, a massive map spread before him, along with brushes, ink, paper, and neatly stacked Letters and Memorials.

"This…"

Jiang Wanrou approached, her soft hands resting on his shoulders.

"Why bring these things here?"

Lu Feng was strict about separating public and private matters. In the capital, he handled affairs in his front courtyard study. Returning to Jin Guang Courtyard, he became the master to be waited upon—maids serving him meals, Jiang Wanrou helping him undress for bed. He never brought court matters into the inner quarters.

What he held now were confidential documents. Jiang Wanrou rarely sought him out in his study—an unspoken understanding between them. So why bring Memorials to the bedroom?

Lu Feng pulled her onto his lap. Fresh from her bath, her hair was half-dry, her soft cheeks flushed from the steam. He pinched her cheek and replied, "To keep you company."

Hearing such words from this usually cold and rigid man left Jiang Wanrou surprised yet touched. From the moment she’d seen him last night until now, everything felt like a dream. She pressed her face against his chest, savoring this hard-won tranquility.

She had so much to say, and she’d thought Lu Feng did too. Yet after a long while, she watched as he picked up Memorial after Memorial, grinding ink, annotating them. His gaze was focused and calm, utterly unlike a man holding a beauty in his arms.

But if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have broken routine to handle military affairs here. Studying his angular features, Jiang Wanrou hesitated.

Perhaps her gaze was too intense. Amid his work, Lu Feng spared her a glance. "Speak your mind."

Jiang Wanrou couldn’t bring up her own affairs—her escape from enemy lines inevitably involved Pei Zhang, and the less said, the better. After a pause, she asked, "After I disappeared from the general’s estate, Qingling must have been frantic, right?"

Frantic hardly described it. If not for Ling Xiao accepting punishment for his wife, Lu Qingling wouldn’t have escaped a beating. Later, it was discovered that a servant in the estate had betrayed them. All the maids suffered for it—those days were filled with terror, and many died unjustly, yet even that failed to quell Lu Feng’s fury.

Jiang Wanrou clearly understood Lu Feng's temperament. She said softly, "It was my carelessness. That maid had already been dismissed by me. If I had noticed earlier..."

"It wasn't your fault."

Lu Feng cut her off, saying, "No need to dwell on it."

Jiang Wanrou suddenly felt her nose prickle. All the fear and unease of these days dissipated with those words—"It wasn't your fault." Having been orphaned young, she had lived cautiously since marriage, never daring to put a foot wrong. It was precisely her prudence and competence that earned her the respect of the entire household.

Lu Feng treated her well, giving her status and respect, presenting her with lavish phoenix coronets and jeweled hairpins. Yet none of those material signs of affection compared to this single phrase: "It wasn't your fault."

In the capital, she hosted and entertained guests, confident no one could do it better. Everything she held was rightfully earned. But after leaving the capital, unable to lift or carry anything, she became nothing but dead weight, slowing his journey and even becoming a bargaining chip used against him.

He said, "You're important too."

He said, "It's good you're back."

He said, "It wasn't your fault."

At this moment, Jiang Wanrou felt both confused and certain: he loved her.

Not because she was "useful," nor because she "knew how to behave." He loved her purely, simply.

Suddenly, Jiang Wanrou wanted to confess everything about Pei Zhang. She opened her mouth several times, but in that instant, memories flashed through her mind—her abandoned aunt, ignored by the Marquis of Ning'an; Jiang Wanxue, hunted by her own husband; the hard-won stability of her position as princess consort; her children...

Lu Feng noticed her unease. Setting down his brush, he frowned. "Has someone upset you?"

Jiang Wanrou shook her head. She tightened her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest.

Her voice muffled, she stammered, "Lu Feng, I... in my heart... I love you so much."

Lu Feng had good ears. Hearing such direct words, his body stiffened. The usually composed man seemed at a loss.

A man like him, raised on teachings of restraint and decorum, where a real man should seek glory and achievement—how could he indulge in a woman's embrace? Getting him to say "I love you" would be like pulling teeth.

He stroked her back and, after a long pause, grunted a stiff "Hmm."

Jiang Wanrou felt no shame. During her time among the Turkic people, she had noticed how straightforward men and women were there. If they fancied someone, they’d sing love songs openly, declaring their feelings.

This wasn’t the capital, where women were bound by rigid virtues. Jiang Wanrou let go, murmuring "I love you so much" and "I missed you so much" repeatedly. Lu Feng couldn’t handle it—passion ignited, their bodies entwined, falling onto the new wool rug.

......

None of those hidden devices here. Unready at first, Jiang Wanrou frowned but didn’t cry out in pain. Instead, she opened herself to him, wrapping tightly around him, letting him fill her completely.

She whispered his name in his ear, over and over.

"Lu Feng."

"Lu Feng."

"...Lu Feng."

By the end, her whole body trembled, her teeth chattering, yet she refused to release her grip on his neck. It made Lu Feng both adore her and want to destroy her.

***

Jiang Wanrou soon paid the price for her recklessness. The truth proved that a man who's been abstinent shouldn't be teased, and that reunion after separation burned fiercer than a wedding night. Lu Feng lived up to being a "newlywed" for three straight days. Even a mere screen couldn’t stop him from finishing, casually throwing on his robe to attend to military affairs.

The last time she passed out, Jiang Wanrou hazily thought that once she woke, she’d shave off Lu Feng’s stubble—it prickled unbearably.

But before she could act, she awoke again to a cold, empty bed. The room was silent. When she asked the maids, they stammered fearfully, revealing nothing—Lu Feng’s authority was too imposing.

He had left her instructions, permitting her to wander the courtyard but forbidding her from leaving the residence.

Jiang Wanrou could barely walk without trembling, let alone wander—rising from bed was an effort. She rubbed her temples, and the maids immediately asked anxiously, "What does Princess Consort require?"

Jiang Wanrou was an undemanding mistress, eating whatever was given without complaint and never causing trouble by demanding outings. Yet the courtyard was unnaturally quiet—the guards stood motionless as terracotta warriors, and the maids moved about soundlessly on tiptoe, not making a single noise.

Curious, Jiang Wanrou asked, "Why is it so quiet here?"

Not just within the residence—even outside the other day, it had been devoid of life.

The maids exchanged glances before one stepped forward and said, "Reporting to Princess Consort, this is Wujin, originally a city of the Turkic people. After our Qi army captured it, it was purged and now serves as our military camp."

So it’s surrounded by troops? Jiang Wanrou didn’t dwell on it, assuming the former residents had merely been expelled. She then asked, "And those villagers from the other day—where are they now?"

The maid lowered her head in thought before replying, "They are held in a compound outside the city, put to work weaving and sewing garments for our soldiers."

Jiang Wanrou’s heart sank. "How long will they be kept there?" she murmured.

She had assumed these people were useless and that Lu Feng would release them—how naive she had been.

"We do not know, Your Highness."

The delicate beauty frowned, a pitiful sight. Given Jiang Wanrou’s gentle nature, one bold maid attempted to console her: "Princess Consort need not worry. These captives are the elderly, infirm, and disabled. The Turkic would never spend resources to ransom them back. To serve our army is their fortune."

Throughout history, prisoners of war had three fates: first, if their ruler was merciful, they might be ransomed back with money or goods; second, they could be used as laborers, at least sparing their lives. If neither applied, they faced only death.

Even our own troops’ rations were scarce—who’d waste food on idle enemies?

Jiang Wanrou understood this logic, but… none of this was necessary. They had lived peacefully before—men hunting and herding, women washing and cooking… but no more.

Suddenly, she remembered—the men who had taken up arms to protect their families were all gone.

She closed her eyes and asked with difficulty, "Did Lu Feng… did His Highness go looking for me specifically?"

The maids exchanged glances. "We do not know, Your Highness."

Lu Feng enforced strict discipline, forbidding any gossip about the Princess Consort. Jiang Wanrou’s past worries about her "reputation" had been entirely unfounded.

Lowering her lashes, Jiang Wanrou said, "Summon General Liu. I have questions for her."

Trapped in the residence and knowing nothing, she could only seek information from Liu Yuenu and ask about her recent situation. But these maids seemed clueless—when questioned, they knew nothing, not even recognizing the famed "General Liu." Frustrated, Jiang Wanrou waved them away.

The matter weighed on her all day. The room was oppressively silent as she paced restlessly before finally sinking into Lu Feng’s armchair, lost in thought.

Lu Feng must have left in a hurry—his desk was cluttered with memorials and letters, the ink on his wolf-hair brush still wet, a scene of disarray. Jiang Wanrou, ever proper, instinctively tidied up for him. She had no interest in his military affairs, but her mind was troubled. Once finished, an impulsive thought struck her.

If he left these in her sight, he must trust her.

Then… would it truly matter if she looked?