Chapter 67

Chapter 67

The stars and moon hung high, the wind was still, and the trees stood silent. The mountain retreat lay in profound quiet, yet Du Lingjing tossed and turned for a long time, only drifting off near dawn.

When she rose the next day, NianJia came to find her for breakfast and remarked, "It's just the two of us today. Neither the Marquis nor the Heir is here."

Both had left, and after a whole night, neither had returned.

Du Lingjing had never encountered such a situation.

Since her marriage to him, he had been busy with various affairs within the capital, only leaving the city occasionally for official duties, apart from attending court or entering the palace.

Last night, she didn't know where he had gone, taking the Second Master’s Silver Snow Sword with him, and still hadn’t returned by morning.

She found it hard to eat breakfast, but NianJia was accustomed to it.

"They must have their own matters."

Speaking of Lu Shenru and Wei Cong, she said, "Between the two of them, they've got ten times the cunning we do. I'm just a little concerned about the Heir’s unhealed injuries. As for Marquis Lu..."

She tilted her head, studying Du Lingjing. "Are you still worried about him?"

Du Lingjing shook her head, saying there was nothing to worry about, then changed the subject, asking NianJia where they would go that day.

NianJia replied directly, "You just learned to ride yesterday—today's perfect for practice. Besides, I noticed a little town down the mountain yesterday and heard there’s a market today. Let’s go check it out."

She was easygoing by nature, already planning their trip to the town while riding the day before.

Du Lingjing readily agreed.

Chong Ping had no objections to her riding out and personally selected a few gentle horses for her.

The day before, Du Lingjing had ridden for the first time on someone’s Dark Amber. Today, Dark Amber wasn’t available, but having ridden such a tall steed from the Western Regions, other horses were no challenge at all.

NianJia was delighted. "Jing, you learn so quickly! If we ride down from here, we’ll be in town in no time."

Riding was far more convenient than taking a carriage—just a quick nudge to the horse’s side, and they could leap over a hill in one go.

The town at the foot indeed had a market, and upon asking, they learned it was a monthly fair.

However, the market was crowded and chaotic. At one moment, a thief snatched a purse and dashed away, chased by curses; at another, merchants and customers argued loudly, even rolling up their sleeves, ready to brawl.

Du Lingjing jumped at the commotion nearby, but Chong Ping immediately stepped in front of her and called for guards.

"Clear the way."

The Marquis’s guards swiftly spread across the main street of the market, flashing the Yongding Marquisate insignia. In moments, the crowd scattered, leaving only vendors and a few well-behaved female shoppers.

NianJia was used to such treatment and strolled casually. Du Lingjing, though, felt awkward. "Are we disrupting the market?"

Chong Ping assured her it was fine. "This place is far too disorderly—it needed policing anyway. Please enjoy your stroll without concern."

Before he finished speaking, NianJia called Du Lingjing over, pointing to a gourd vendor's stall—some plain, others intricately carved with patterns.

Unlike the refined ornaments in noble households, the gourd designs at the rural market had a rustic charm.

NianJia immediately picked one with a peony motif symbolizing wealth and honor. The vendor eagerly offered blessings, "May your noble house flourish and rise even higher."

Du Lingjing almost laughed aloud.

NianJia was a princess—who in the world could boast greater wealth and honor than her family?

Yet NianJia accepted the blessing without batting an eye, bought the gourd, and asked Du Lingjing, "Which one do you want? I’ll buy it for you."

Du Lingjing wasn’t seeking wealth or honor but noticed a peace-and-joy pattern.

Her eyes hovered briefly before NianJia snatched it up and whispered in her ear,

"I see you’re still worried about someone."

Du Lingjing quickly returned the "peace and joy" gourd and picked up another, this one depicting a toad gathering laurels on the moon.

NianJia burst into laughter. "Our Jing is shooting for first place in the exams!"

Du Lingjing laughed as well. The two walked forward, examining their gourds, until NianJia spotted a stall selling kittens and dashed over.

Before Du Lingjing could follow, someone came charging at them from a nearby alley.

"The Marquis of Yongding’s household claims loyalty, but now they’re nothing but traitors!"

It was an elderly man. Before Du Lingjing could get a clear look, the Marquis’s guards subdued him, though he continued to curse.

"The Lus amass military might, usurp proper succession, and disrupt the court! They wreak havoc on the realm—may they die wretched deaths..."

Du Lingjing stood frozen.

The market went dead silent, no one daring to speak.

Only the reek of liquor and the muffled curses of the restrained man could be heard.

Chong Ping hurried to her side. "Are you alright, my lady?"

Du Lingjing shook her head. "He was cursing the Marquis..."

Chong Ping told her not to take it to heart. "Just some drunk old scholar. These pedantic scholars have always clashed with the Marquis—such trash talk is inevitable."

"Does this happen often?"

Chong Ping nodded. "Occasionally. But the Marquis long stopped paying attention."

Indeed, the guards dealt with the drunkard with practiced ease, gagging and tying him up before tossing him into a distant alley.

NianJia returned as well.

"Even the Emperor has his critics—some people just don’t fear execution."

Undeterred, she went back to shopping, pulling Du Lingjing along to buy more things. Hearing of a good restaurant in town, she took Du Lingjing out to eat there that evening.

By the time they returned to the mountain retreat, night had closed in.

The retreat was quiet—neither man had returned.

Crickets chirped incessantly, a nervous-making hum. This time, even NianJia stood at the villa’s gate, peering into the darkened fields for a long while before retreating to their courtyard.

The windless night, the trees motionless, the air stifling. The insects' drone became relentless.

Du Lingjing found it hard to sleep amid the noise. Half-asleep, she lost sense of time until faint, hurried footsteps reached her ears.

She got out of bed and opened the window to see flames flickering in the western courtyards. The still night suddenly came alive with wind.

A gust of night wind rushed through the window, sending her long hair flying behind her, while also carrying the metallic tang of blood.

Du Lingjing’s eye twitched. Seeing no one approaching, she hastily dressed and followed the commotion toward the western courtyard.

The wind tossed her loose hair into the air. Qiu Lin lit a lantern for her, and the guards, recognizing her, let her pass.

The courtyard was filled with guards rushing about, the tense atmosphere pressing down on everyone. Suddenly, Du Lingjing spotted Chong Ping.

She watched as Chong Ping emerged from a room, his forehead creased in worry, barking orders for someone to fetch medicine.

Looking closer, she saw dark patches blooming across his indigo robe—the iron smell of blood—

It was all blood!

Du Lingjing sucked in a breath.

Only then did Chong Ping notice her.

“Madam?”

Seeing her face pale with fear, he quickly reassured her, “There’s no need for concern, Madam!”

Before he could say more, a guard hurriedly summoned him, and with a brief nod, he followed.

Yet Du Lingjing’s gaze remained fixed on the room he had exited. Another person emerged, emptying a basin at the roots of a nearby tree—

A basin full of blood.

Even Qiu Lin gasped.

In a daze, Du Lingjing moved toward the doorway, her steps unsteady. She hesitated at the threshold, afraid to disturb the crowd gathered around the bed inside.

She stood by the doorframe, watching as another basin of bloody water was carried out. A man who looked like a physician called for more hemostatic herbs.

“He’s losing too much blood. If this continues, he’ll—”

Du Lingjing’s grip on the doorframe turned her knuckles white. She pressed her lips together, not daring to make a sound, though her fingertips trembled.

Then, suddenly, someone familiar appeared beside her—an arm drawing her close.

“What’s wrong? Why are you so pale?”

Du Lingjing jumped, looking up startled.

“My lord?!”

“Mmm.”

The man nodded at her.

Lu Shenru noticed how cold she was. Although she had dressed hastily, her hair was still loose and disheveled over her shoulders.

He gently brushed her hair back, his voice soft.

“Did you think I was the one injured in there?”

The courtyard was lit not only by lanterns but also by towering torches.

The night wind carried the thick scent of smoke, and the flickering flames cast a golden glow over his strong, handsome features.

Du Lingjing looked him over repeatedly. He stood before her, safe and sound.

She paused, then turned her gaze back to the room.

“It’s Chong’an.”

“Ah…”

She had never imagined it would be Chong’an who was hurt inside.

This time, he had left Chong Ping with her and taken Chong’an with him.

Just then, Chong Ping returned with the medicine. Seeing her staring at the room, he quickly reassured her.

“Do not worry, Madam. Chong’an’s injuries are only external.”

Even so, all that blood loss was no small matter. She urged Chong Ping to deliver the medicine without delay.

Yet her gaze returned to the man beside her—truly unharmed, his expression relaxed, suggesting the mission succeeded.

He asked softly, “You worried it was me? Were you frightened?”

Du Lingjing was still upset with him. Even if she had been, she wouldn’t admit it.

She said nothing, pulling her robe tighter, though she couldn’t help sneaking another glance at him from head to toe.

The man’s eyes warmed with amusement.

Still so stubborn.

He was about to say something when a guard from Wei Cong’s side approached, summoning him.

Clearly, he and Wei Cong had business to discuss. He turned back to Du Lingjing.

“I’m fine, and Chong’an will be too. You should get some rest.”

He warned her of the rising wind in the latter half of the night. “Don’t catch a chill.”

With that, he gave her wrist a gentle squeeze and instructed Qiu Lin to be careful with the lantern before joining Wei Cong.

Du Lingjing lingered, watching him walk away for a moment before Chong Ping emerged from the room again.

“Were you afraid the Marquis was hurt?”

He reassured her, “Don’t you worry, Madam. We would never let any harm come to him.”

Du Lingjing turned to him.

She knew well the loyalty of the Marquis’s guards. Yet even now, more basins of blood were being carried out from Chong’an’s room.

She asked for details about Chong’an’s condition.

Although Chong Ping was clearly concerned for his younger brother, he insisted she need not trouble herself.

“Chong’an will recover in time. Even if the worst happened, it’s our duty to protect the Marquis.”

The night wind picked up, the torch flames dancing like an army of thousands.

Chong Ping explained that after the devastating losses suffered by the Yongding Army in the fourteenth year of Hongqi, their morale had been utterly shattered.

"The old Marquis, despite his illness, repelled the Tatars, securing respite for the Yongding Army and the entire northwestern forces to recuperate. But it was far from enough."

He said the soldiers at the border were willing to sacrifice their families and lives for the nation, yet their efforts were undone by a few carelessly penned surrender decrees from the civil officials.

With the pro-surrender officials dominating the court, the soldiers stationed in the northwest—who had fought the Tatars for generations—felt the heavens themselves seemed darkened.

When the old Marquis passed away, the entire army was gripped by mourning, with no idea how to face the days ahead.

"But then the Marquis stepped forward."

He said the Marquis took off his armor, laid down his sword, and left the northwest—where he had grown up—to enter the serpentine capital.

"The world said the Yongding Marquisate, a family of loyal martyrs, was about to produce a traitor, vilifying him for sinking deep into the mire of power."

Chong Ping lowered his voice.

"But not a single one of us in the Yongding Army ever thought that way."

A young general, battle-hardened and formidable, had to leave the battlefield for the court, to outmaneuver those cunning old ministers.

Why had he come?

"The Marquis journeyed far from home—for us!"

The torchlight made Chong Ping's eyes blazed like torches as he spoke, word by word.

"Even if we die, we will never let the Marquis suffer a single arrow's wound."

Du Lingjing stood struck dumb with awe at the door.

She had speculated before, but hearing it firsthand still left her speechless with shock.

The Northwestern Army. The Yongding Army.

The Marquis of Yongding. Lu Shenru.

He was never standing alone in the eye of the storm—behind him were thousands upon thousands of soldiers...

The firelight also illuminated her face, and Chong Ping gradually fell silent.

He said Chong An's injuries were not beyond healing.

"My Lady, do not trouble yourself with worry. Please return and rest."

Du Lingjing nodded.

In the courtyard, Chong An was not the only one injured. The hurried footsteps wove a staccato rhythm, and though Du Lingjing could not help much, she wouldn't throw off their cadence.

She urged Chong Ping to attend to his duties, then called for Qiu Lin and turned to leave.

But then she spotted the man standing on the second-floor balcony not far away.

He turned and said something to a guard, who fetched something and quickly descended.

It was his cloak.

The guard handed it to Qiu Lin, who settled it about Du Lingjing's shoulders.

The heavy cloak swallowed her frame. He stood at the railing and mouthed four words to her.

The night stole his words, but Du Lingjing could read his lips clearly.

"Go to sleep."

...

Wrapped in the cloak, she left the western courtyard, her silhouette and the lantern light disappearing beyond the wall. Only then did Lu Shenru turn away, just as Wei Cong reached the landing.

"Well?" he asked.

Wei Cong shook his head.

"Like stone. Won't utter a syllable."

Lu Shenru gave a derisive huff.

The night raid had taken these spies unawares. They had sustained casualties but had also captured three alive—two Tatars and one Han Chinese.

A Han Chinese working secretly alongside Tatars.

The mastermind behind this was certainly no mere mortal.

Lu Shenru was in no hurry. "If they won’t talk, it doesn’t matter. A man has more than just a mouth to speak. Leave no stone unturned—leave no strand of hair unchecked."

Wei Cong nodded, while Lu Shenru turned his gaze toward the gate of the hillside estate.

"Let’s see if anyone comes knocking tomorrow."

Wei Cong held his tongue, following his gaze to the courtyard gate—the guest quarters where Princess Nianjia was staying.

When Wei Cong returned, the room was dark, and Princess Nianjia was already asleep.

*

But the moment he pushed the door open softly and stepped inside, the bed's occupant roused.

"Shizi?"

"It’s me."

Wei Cong watched as she sat up and lit the small lamp by the bed, exhaling softly.

"I truly don’t know how to move more quietly to avoid disturbing your rest."

He changed his clothes and, seeing her bleary-eyed on the bed's edge, walked over.

She started visibly. "Are you going to sleep with me?!"

The room had two beds, and they had always slept separately—Princess Nianjia insisted it was to avoid disturbing his recovery.

But it had been the same during their three years in the northwest.

As he drew near, her eyes widened with the question.

But Wei Cong only reached over to douse the light she had lit.

He glanced at her. "Unless Your Highness objects..."

"Well, you don't need to worry, Young Prince. Once you're better, I won't have to look after you and can sleep in another room."

"Is that so..." Wei Cong didn't extinguish the lamp but instead studied her face in the lamplight. "Wouldn't the Dowager Consort consider this improper if she knew?"

Oh no, I forgot about Mother! NianJia immediately grew anxious. If her mother and the Imperial Dowager Consort found out she had been sleeping separately from the prince except on their wedding night, they'd have her head!

"Uh..." She didn’t know how to respond.

Then Wei Cong chuckled softly.

He laughed again—what was so funny about her all day?

The man, unhurried and no longer pressing the matter of sharing a bed, merely said gently,

"Rest well, my lady."

NianJia: "..."

But she couldn’t sleep now. Watching his back as he walked toward the other bed, she couldn’t help but recall the awkwardness of their wedding night...

*

When Lu Shenru returned to his chamber, Du Lingjing also woke at the sound, though she didn’t sit up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him place a sword on the desk.

It was the Second Young Master’s Silver Snow Sword.

After setting it down, he didn’t move, his gaze lingering on the blade in silence for a long while before he finally turned and left.

He changed his clothes and sat by the bed.

The sheer curtain draped over his shoulder, and the faint scent of blood still clung to him.

Du Lingjing neither spoke nor moved, and he lay down, enclosing her hand in his.

The next moment, he drew her back against him.

He knew she was awake.

But tonight, she didn’t push him away.

For the first time in days, she allowed him to hold her in silence.

*

The next morning, the mountain retreat appeared as if nothing had happened in the night. The spring rain from the previous days had brought forth tender green shoots from the cracks between bricks and stones, and the retreat was quiet at dawn.

But then came an unexpected visitor.