Chapter 128: The Northern Frontier

Chapter 128: The Northern Frontier

The battlefield is unpredictable—a small misstep can lead to disaster. That very night, Jiang Xun packed his belongings and ordered Wang An to select a few quick-witted and loyal guards from his retinue to escort him north.

Jiang Xun traveled under the identity of "Mr. Xun." None of the guards recognized him, treating this as an ordinary escort mission. Only Wang An was pacing anxiously, nearly frantic with worry.

He pulled Jiang Xun aside, his wrinkled face contorted with concern. "Your Majesty, why on earth are you heading to the northern frontier?"

Jiang Xun replied simply, "For the next few days, I’ll feign illness and skip court. If anyone asks, tell them the Emperor is gravely ill and cannot receive visitors."

Wang An wrung his hands. "Your Majesty, such a risky venture—shouldn’t you discuss it with the senior ministers first?"

Jiang Xun: "No need."

A man of your standing shouldn’t court danger. The court ministers would never allow Jiang Xun to travel alone to the northern frontier—what if the Emperor died there? To whom would the Great Wei’s throne pass?

But Jiang Xun had no choice.

With the system backing him, he couldn’t die. But for every day he delayed, he dreaded imagining what state Qingping Pass might fall into.

He pushed Wang An aside. "Enough questions. Just cover for me. There will be rewards upon my return."

Wang An’s face fell in dismay, though he dared not voice his thoughts aloud. *With your health, will you even make it back?*

Yet as the Emperor’s personal attendant, Wang An’s fortunes rose and fell entirely on Jiang Xun’s word. If Jiang Xun insisted on going, no matter how frantic he felt, he could say nothing more. He could only watch as the Emperor boarded the carriage.

Jiang Xun had specifically requested a common-style carriage, not the imperial six-horse jade chariot. The cabin was less than four feet wide, draped in plain blue fabric.

Dusk was falling, the western sky streaked with lavender. With a crack of the whip, the white horses surged forward, stirring up dust. Wang An watched as the Emperor’s carriage vanished into the mist shrouding the capital.

Pressing for time, Jiang Xun’s carriage did not stop, pushing on day and night. The guards took shifts driving, swapping horses at official post stations, pausing only briefly for meals and water.

By the second evening, the guards handed rations to Jiang Xun inside the carriage, their faces etched with worry. "Are you alright?"

Lacking the smooth ride of modern cars, the carriage jolted violently. Eating and sleeping were near impossible, and the passenger inside had vomited repeatedly, hardly keeping food down. When standing, he had to lean against trees for support. Even with his veiled hat, his exhaustion was plain to see.

The guards exchanged uneasy glances. Though they didn’t know Jiang Xun’s identity, Wang An’s deference made it clear he was someone of great importance in the palace. If this man died from exhaustion on the road, who’d take the fall?

One guard ventured, "There’s a village ahead. Should we stop for a day to rest?"

Jiang Xun shook his head. "The situation is urgent. There’s no time to delay."

They pressed on relentlessly for days. 66 perched on Jiang Xun’s shoulder the entire time, the little system growing more and more worried at its host’s suffering.

"...Host, you really must take care of yourself in the coming years. Otherwise, once I leave after the mission is done, Shen Que will be burying you."

Jiang Xun chuckled. "No need to worry."

Years were a long way off—why worry now?

After pushing hard, Jiang Xun finally reached Qingping Pass by dusk on the third day.

Built in the previous dynasty, Qingping Pass had stood for over a century. The massive fortress stood dark against the twilight, its cracks thick with moss, its bricks weathered and crumbling at the edges.

The guards stopped Jiang Xun. With his entourage and veiled hat, he was a shady character. Jiang Xun handed over a letter bearing Xue Jin’s personal seal. "Please inform General Xue that an old friend requests a meeting."

The guard examined the letter, the red seal bearing Xue Jin’s name clearly authentic. He led Jiang Xun into the city. "I’ll let the general know right away."

Jiang Xun had come from the capital and had been assigned to stay in the finest posthouse in the city. However, with the urgency of the war, anyone who could flee had already left. The room had long gone uncleaned—when Jiang Xun wiped his hand across the table, his fingers came away dusty, and the carpets and curtains were filthy beyond belief.

His guards fetched brooms and started cleaning, but Jiang Xun paid it no mind. He leaned against the wall and dozed off briefly. Normally, plagued by insomnia and restless dreams, he wouldn’t have been able to sleep in such conditions. But after three exhausting days of travel, he was dead on his feet and actually managed to fall asleep against the wall.

This was what greeted Xue Jin when he entered.

A young man in a veiled hat slumped in the corner, the sheer white veil of his hat spilling down to obscure half his figure, faintly revealing the dark blue robe beneath. He wore only a thin cord tied around his waist as a makeshift belt, from which hung an exquisite jade tassel—his only decoration.

At that moment, he was resting his head on one hand at the desk, tilting slightly as he dozed, looking utterly exhausted.

Xue Jin tread lightly and approached Jiang Xun, gently touching his shoulder. "Mr. Xun?"

Jiang Xun startled awake.

Prince Xue’s face was right in front of him, and Jiang Xun reflexively tugged the veil down to hide his face better.

Xue Jin said, "Sir, why have you come? I sent you letters, but you didn’t reply for days—I was worried sick."

Jiang Xun had spent those days on the road, and Xue Jin’s letters had been sent to the capital. He hadn’t received them, so naturally, he couldn’t reply.

He braced a hand on the table and stood. "I didn’t come to visit—I came to treat him. Take me to see him."

Xue Jin hesitated. "The illness is quite severe—almost everyone who gets near the sick catches it. With your delicate health, it’s best not to go."

Jiang Xun shook his head. "I didn’t come to visit—I came to treat him. And you needn’t worry about me—I won’t catch it."

Thanks to the system, Su Zhu was safe.

Xue Jin paused. "You know medicine?"

Jiang Xun: "No, but I might have a fix."

Xue Jin didn’t get it—how could someone who didn’t know medicine have a fix?—but having known Jiang Xun for so long, he knew Mr. Xun wasn’t one to make empty claims. If he said so, he must have a plan. So he nodded. "Follow me."

Shen Xiu had been placed in the residence of Marquis Zhenbei. As the sole marquis of the northern territories, the estate was built in southern fashion, with layered rockeries and lotus ponds. As Jiang Xun followed Xue Jin through the winding courtyards, as they passed a corridor, he suddenly asked, "What about Shen Que?"

Xue Jin had said Shen Xiu’s condition was worse, so Jiang Xun had inquired about him first, yet he had hesitated to ask after Shen Que. Only now, standing before Shen Xiu’s door, did he bring it up.

Xue Jin: "He’s doing better. I sent him word when you arrived—he’ll be here soon."

He smiled. "Speaking of which, Mr. Shen has been living in the palace all this time. This will be your first meeting, won’t it? I bet you’ll hit it off."

Jiang Xun lowered his gaze, muttering vaguely, "Perhaps."

They reached Shen Xiu’s door. Before even stepping inside, they heard the sound of coughing from within—Shen Xiu’s voice was hoarse, muffled, like rusty hinges on an old drawer.

Xue Jin pushed the door open first and led Jiang Xun inside. Approaching the bed, Jiang Xun saw three thick quilts piled high, beneath which Shen Xiu lay listlessly, his eyes barely open.

Shen Xiu had always left Jiang Xun with the impression of boundless energy, charging about recklessly. Seeing him like this was something Jiang Xun had never witnessed before.

Xue Jin explained, "He’s been coughing for nearly a week now, with swelling and ulcerated skin, some areas inflamed, and a persistent fever. The army physicians couldn’t diagnose the cause. They prescribed two rounds of medicine, but there’s been no improvement."

Jiang Xun sat at the edge of Shen Xiu’s bed. "I understand."

Shen Xiu’s consciousness was hazy—he didn’t even recognize who had arrived. Xue Jin cautioned, "Be careful of infection."

Jiang Xun said nothing. Instead, he reached beneath the quilts, took Shen Xiu’s hand, and closed his eyes slightly, pretending to take his pulse.

The real work was being done by 66, but Jiang Xun had to maintain the act—otherwise, how could he explain his method of treatment?

In a place where Xue Jin couldn’t see, the system quickly scanned Shen Xiu’s entire body, collecting physiological characteristics before activating its neural network to match them within the database.

System 66's database was excessively vast, containing records of every conceivable illness—from stellar radiation sickness from the spacefaring age to glandular diseases in ABO worlds. The comparison process required considerable time, so Jiang Xun held his position with eyes-closed pulse diagnosis, remaining still for a long while.

So long that footsteps eventually sounded behind him.

The steps were extremely light, likely from soft-soled cloth shoes, accompanied by the muted chime of jade pendants—a cultured gentleman adorned with jade.

Xue Jin stood up: "Mr. Shen."

Shen Que said: "I came to take a look. Please remain seated."

Xue Jin then sat back down.

Jiang Xun thought to himself: *This really isn’t fair.*

Both Shen Que and Shen Xiu had fallen ill, yet while Shen Xiu's voice had become as raspy as a shattered cymbal, Shen Que remained as gentle and composed as ever, his voice still pleasant to the ear.

Just like during the most unbearable times in his past life—regardless of what intimacies they shared, Shen Que's voice had always sounded just as pleasing.

Behind him, a chair shifted slightly as Shen Que also took a seat by the desk. His probing gaze lingered on Jiang Xun, its weight so tangible it seemed to pierce through the veiled hat and sear into his back.

Jiang Xun felt goosebumps rise along his spine.

Shen Que observed him for a long while before breathing almost inaudibly: "Mr. Xun's renown precedes him. I didn’t realize you were also skilled in medicine."

It was merely an offhand remark—so quiet that if Jiang Xun hadn’t been wholly focused on him, he might have missed it.

"..."

Jiang Xun's lips formed silent words but said nothing.

He had come here in such haste, only realizing upon seeing Shen Que that he didn’t dare speak in front of him.

Shen Que was different from Shen Xiu and Xue Jin. The latter two had scarcely laid eyes on the Emperor—they might not even recognize his face, let alone his voice.

But Shen Que and Jiang Xun existed in that ambiguous space between mentorship and friendship. They had deliberated state matters during daylight hours and curled against one another at night. The Emperor’s voice was something Shen Que knew all too well.

The silence stretched on for too long. Jiang Xun's temple pulsed in irritation.

—*Obviously.*

How could he not know Shen Que’s official positions? He was the one who had granted them, the one who had affixed the royal decree. Did Xue Jin really think he was unaware?

Jiang Xun coughed lightly, forcing his voice into frosty detachment: "Mm."

His response was far too casual. Xue Jin blinked in surprise: "Sir, wouldn't propriety demand greeting him...?"

Shen Que stopped him: "Allow the physician to complete his examination."

Fortunately, by then, 66 had completed its scan.

The AI interface flickered with simulated relief: "The condition isn't severe—a bacterial respiratory infection complicated by immune issues. A specific remedy exists."

Jiang Xun: "Does this era have that kind of medicine?"

66: "There are substitutes. Therapeutic agents in medications are specific molecular components—some of which exist naturally in certain plants. Extraction would be adequate. Host, I’ll display the prescription on-screen. Copy it down."

Jiang Xun nodded slightly and lowered his voice further: "Xue Jin, could you bring writing materials?"

As he spoke, Shen Que’s gaze remained fixed on him, unwavering.

The preeminent scholar of Great Wei now held the titles of Grand Secretary of the Wenyuan Pavilion and Vice Minister of Rites.