Chapter 18: It’s Him

Chapter 18: It's Him

After revealing Qiao Wan and Jing Lan’s affair to Qiao Heng, Mu Chi knew the matter was settled and required no further involvement from him.

All that remained was to wait for Qiao Heng to arrange the marriage for the two in the coming days.

There was also no need for him to return to the princess’s manor.

It was time to leave.

Yet, Mu Chi stood alone in the dense forest behind the palace for a long time.

So long that his limbs stiffened slightly in the cold night, remaining utterly motionless.

For some reason, he felt a sense of bewilderment and uncertainty in his heart, as if unsure of where to go.

A voice emerged from deep within: Go back. Finish out the New Year, consider it compensation for interfering in Qiao Wan’s marital prospects without permission.

His limbs slowly awakened, as if persuaded, and he eventually hurried back to the princess’s residence.

Only when standing at the entrance did he realize, with some surprise, that he felt a sense of eagerness.

But what did he see when he arrived at the small pavilion in the rear courtyard?

Qiao Wan pressed intimately against Jing Lan, their figures enveloped by her fiery red fox fur coat, her hand teasingly tugging at his collar, revealing his bare chest.

On the table nearby sat two bowls of leftover floating dumplings.

The floating dumplings she had said she would eat with him when she left were now eaten with Jing Lan.

Was she in such a hurry?

Could she not even wait for the imperial marriage approval before being this intimate here in the residence, in this very pavilion?

And what about later? Would they grow even closer?

Holding hands? Kissing? Or... indulging in passionate lovemaking?

Would they become husband and wife even without his interference?

A chilling rage and murderous intent surged in his chest. Mu Chi couldn't even distinguish what emotion was driving him; it felt as if someone had tightly gripped his heart, and a faint, unfamiliar ache slowly began to grow.

He hated feeling this way.

So he suppressed all these strange feelings and asked softly, "What are the two of you doing?"

But Qiao Wan seemed startled by him, turning her head to look dazed, as if seeing a monster, her face pale.

Mu Chi seethed with anger inside.

Why was she afraid of him?

What right did she have to fear him?

She could so boldly press Jing Lan beneath her, yet she was afraid of him?

Mu Chi slowly took two steps closer to the pavilion, his voice softer than before: "Princess?"

Qiao Wan's consciousness gradually returned.

"Qiao Wan," Jing Lan said through gritted teeth, "get off me!"

Qiao Wan snapped back to reality, hurriedly pushing against Jing Lan's chest to stand up, but upon seeing his open collar, she attempted to fix it by reaching out to adjust it for him.

Jing Lan's face darkened even further.

Wrapped in her fox fur, Qiao Wan took two steps back, putting distance between herself and Jing Lan. When she looked at Mu Chi, she couldn't help but feel a surge of joy.

—She had thought he wouldn't return.

But this joy quickly subsided as she remembered the tune "Frost Mountain Dawn" that Qiao Qingni had played and the familiar feeling she had experienced moments before.

How could the person from her dream be Mu Chi?

She had seen his chest; there was no cross-shaped scar there.

Qiao Wan had many things she wanted to say but couldn't find the words. In the end, she pressed her lips together and looked at Jing Lan: "Just now, ahem, I’m sorry."

"Heh," Jing Lan sneered, reaching to fasten his lapel, "Qiao Wan, you're coveting my body, aren't you?"

Qiao Wan resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Knowing he wasn't the person from her dream, her attitude shifted considerably: "Yes, yes, yes. Major General Jing is so dashing and impressive, I admire him greatly. How about you show me a bit more, Major General Jing?"

Mu Chi's eyes narrowed as he looked at Qiao Wan.

"Qiao Wan," Jing Lan glared at her, the tips of his ears slightly warm, "you're utterly... hopeless."

With that, he swung his brocade coat behind him, shot a quick glance at Mu Chi, gave a light humph, and leaped onto the wall, silently departing.

The quiet rear courtyard was left with only Qiao Wan and Mu Chi.

Qiao Wan's previously playful demeanor gradually stilled as she looked at Mu Chi. After a moment, she said, "Just now, it was an accident... I fell..."

"Princess, there's no need to explain," Mu Chi said with a smile, walking up to her and reaching out to fix her messy coat. "I believe you—"

The last word never had a chance to leave his lips—Qiao Wan instinctively dodged to the side.

Mu Chi's hand froze mid-air, his smile halting at the corner of his lips, his eyes turning dark and intense.

She was avoiding him.

Because she had Jing Lan now, she didn't need him anymore?

Qiao Wan also sensed something was off. She didn't know why, but the figure from her dream suddenly came to mind, and she had reflexively avoided him.

To break the silence, Qiao Wan reached out and pulled his hand down, then immediately noticed how icy his fingers were—as if holding a block of ice, freezing cold.

She exclaimed in surprise, "Why are your hands so cold? Where have you been just now? Your hands are nearly frozen stiff..."

Her chattering stopped when she looked up and met Mu Chi's gaze. Qiao Wan's lips moved slightly; she wanted to ask him about the musical score, but for some reason, fear held her back, and the words wouldn't come out.

Qiao Wan fell silent, pulling Mu Chi along as she hurried toward the bedchamber.

As soon as they entered the bedchamber, warmth enveloped them instantly.

Qiao Wan turned to look at Mu Chi, who stood behind her, and with resolve, reached out to tug at his thin robe: "First, change out of this thin garment. I'll have someone bring a cloak..."

Mu Chi let her tug at it, realizing that at some point, even his aversion to being touched had faded significantly.

Qiao Wan's gaze inadvertently drifted to his slightly disheveled chest—there was still no scar to be seen.

Qiao Wan breathed a sigh of relief, only then noticing how close they were standing. Her cheeks flushed with heat as she hastily took half a step back. "Go change behind the screen first."

Mu Chi glanced at her, then rose and walked behind the screen.

Left alone at the table, Qiao Wan waited until Mu Chi emerged. She turned to look at him, as if finally steeling her resolve, and said earnestly, "Mu Chi, let's always be together."

Some questions were better left unasked.

For the first time, she wanted to be with someone for the rest of her life.

Even if someday she left Lingjing and was no longer a princess.

Mu Chi was slightly stunned, his brows faintly furrowing as confusion stirred within him. He hadn’t expected her to say such a thing so suddenly.

Yet, coming from her who had just been intimate with someone else, it felt somewhat absurd.

Thinking of Jing Lan, Mu Chi’s expression clouded over slightly, and he lowered his gaze. "Why does the princess say this so suddenly?"

"I thought of it, so I said it," Qiao Wan replied, staring at him firmly. "If you stay silent, I’ll take it as your agreement!"

"Also," she added, a smile breaking through, her little canine teeth showing, "on the ninth, for the Mountain Sacrifice Ceremony, you’ll accompany me."

As she turned away, the smile on her lips faded slightly.

Mu Chi, don’t let me down.

*

The Mountain Sacrifice Ceremony in the Li Kingdom had been established since the previous emperor’s time and had since become a tradition.

Back then, the relationship between the Li Kingdom and Great Qi was far less peaceful than it was now, with frequent friction between the two nations.

Great Qi, with its strong military, had annexed several smaller states, leaving the Li Kingdom isolated. Only the Yanming Mountain Range stood as a barrier, holding back Great Qi’s armies and protecting Lingjing.

Not long after the previous emperor ascended the throne, Great Qi grew increasingly aggressive, launching a surprise attack on Yanming Mountain after the New Year, nearly breaching it.

Fortunately, the Yanming region, which had long been without snow, was suddenly hit by a heavy snowfall, disrupting Great Qi’s plans and sparing the Li Kingdom from war.

Since then, Yanming Mountain had been regarded as the Li Kingdom’s blessed mountain. Every year on the ninth day of the month, people would ascend the platform on Yanming Mountain to perform the Mountain Sacrifice Ceremony.

On the eighth day.

A magnificent procession of carriages set out from the palace like a winding dragon, marching grandly toward Yanming Mountain.

Imperial guards patrolled back and forth intermittently.

Qiao Wan sat inside the carriage, occasionally glancing at Mu Chi across from her.

She had never been one to trouble herself unnecessarily. Once she made a decision, she refused to dwell on doubts that would only upset her.

Yet now, thinking about what she was about to do, she couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy.

She knew she mattered to Qiao Heng to some extent—he had even turned a blind eye when she brought Mu Chi back to the estate. But she wasn’t sure… if he would indulge her in this matter.

"What is the princess looking at?" Mu Chi asked. He had originally intended to survey the terrain at Yanming Mountain, so Qiao Wan’s suggestion saved him the trouble, and he naturally agreed to accompany her.

However, since Qiao Wan had said those words about "always being together," she had taken no further action.

She had always been straightforward, easy to read without much effort.

But now, for the first time, he found himself unable to decipher what this woman was thinking.

"Ah?" Qiao Wan blinked, instinctively replying, "Admiring how handsome you are."

The carriage fell into sudden silence.

The perfectly poised smile on Mu Chi’s lips stiffened for half a moment.

Qiao Wan felt a pang of regret and was about to say something to salvage the situation when she heard the sound of hoofbeats outside.

Assuming it was the imperial guards on patrol, she was surprised to find the hoofbeats persistently following her carriage.

Frowning, Qiao Wan lifted the carriage window curtain to look outside and saw Jing Lan in silver armor riding alongside her carriage, his brow tightly furrowed.

"Does Major General Jing have business with me?" Qiao Wan asked.

Jing Lan looked at her, his expression somewhat awkward. "Why did you stop sending them?"

Qiao Wan was puzzled. "Sending what?"

Jing Lan paused for a few breaths. "The medicinal herbs."

Qiao Wan frowned in confusion before gradually realizing he was referring to the precious herbs she had sent him some time ago. After learning he wasn’t the person from her dreams, she had stopped sending them.

She certainly couldn’t say that outright, so she shot him a sidelong glance. "I sent so many fine things and didn’t even receive a word of thanks. Why should I keep sending them?"

Jing Lan was rendered speechless by her retort, his face darkening as he fell silent.

Qiao Wan rarely saw him at a loss, and now she leaned out of the carriage window, deliberately prodding, "Could it be that Major General Jing has been waiting for them all along?"

Jing Lan’s gaze sharpened, and he glared at her resentfully. "Would I wait for those pathetic herbs? Is that even possible?"

"Then why ask?" Annoyed that the treasures she had reluctantly sent were being dismissed, Qiao Wan grew impatient. Her eyes darted around mischievously as she deliberately added, "You should go take a few more looks at Third Sister. Otherwise, in a few days, she’ll be leaving Lingjing."

The matter of Princess Zhaoyang’s marriage alliance with Great Qi’s Crown Prince Li Muxuan was common knowledge, not just among court officials but even among the common people.

Now that the crown prince’s mourning period was nearly over, their marriage would naturally proceed.

As she spoke, Qiao Wan occasionally stole glances at Mu Chi beside her. Seeing him sitting there with downcast eyes, seemingly indifferent, her previously gloomy mood lightened considerably.

Perhaps Mu Chi didn’t like Qiao Qingni after all.

Perhaps she had really been overthinking it?

Jing Lan was furious, but noticing her sidelong glances, he slowed his horse slightly and peered through the carriage window, catching sight of Mu Chi draped in a white brocade fur cloak.

Jing Lan’s grip on the reins tightened. "Qiao Wan, you…"

"What about me?"

"Shameless!" With those words, Jing Lan, his face stiff and pale, urged his horse forward, muttering under his breath, "I really must be losing it…"

Qiao Wan’s cheeks flushed red with anger at his words. She snorted at his retreating figure and slammed the window shut.

When she looked up, she met Mu Chi’s gaze and pursed her lips disdainfully. "That spoiled brat."

Mu Chi watched her vivid expression, as if even her eyes were burning with flames.

That uncomfortable feeling returned. After a long moment, he laughed softly, his tone peculiar. "Does the princess enjoy interacting with Major General Jing very much?"

"Of course not," Qiao Wan retorted scornfully. Then, as if struck by a thought, she fixed her eyes on Mu Chi, her gaze instantly sparkling with light.

Mu Chi was momentarily stunned by her gaze.

"Mu Chi, are you getting jealous?" Qiao Wan asked.

The smile at the corner of Mu Chi's lips gradually faded. He lowered his eyes, his brows slightly furrowed, and for a moment, he felt a pang of helplessness in his heart.

But Qiao Wan took his silence as agreement. Her entire expression seemed to brighten, and she leaned toward Mu Chi triumphantly. "But you don’t need to be jealous. Jing Lan admires my third elder sister."

Mu Chi looked at her radiant, pale cheeks. The narrow carriage seemed to become warmer.

It was so warm it made him antsy.

Qiao Wan added, "Mu Chi, tomorrow—tomorrow I’ll give you a surprise, alright?"

*

The caravan arrived at Yanming Mountain at dusk that day.

On a flat, open area, dozens of tents had already been prepared.

Qiao Wan’s tent was opulent, divided into an outer room and an inner bedchamber. Inside was a soft large bed and a couch, with thick carpets covering the ground. A roaring brazier kept the entire tent extremely warm.

Mu Chi’s tent was right next to hers. Though not large, it had everything he needed.

That night, after bathing, Qiao Wan turned in for the night.

The mountain sacrificial ceremony was scheduled for noon the next day.

The altar was at the mountain summit.

Early in the morning, Qiao Wan changed into a magnificent court dress. Without bringing any servants, she walked on her own with several princes and princesses behind Qiao Heng, heading toward the altar.

Behind them followed a large retinue of civil and military officials.

The hundred steps were not particularly high, but against the grandeur of Yanming Mountain, they appeared seemingly endless.

At the top of the steps was the altar. In front of it, offerings had already been presented, and the tablet for the mountain god and ritual vessels were neatly arranged.

The imperial guard detail held fine horses decked out in jewels and jade.

This wasn’t Qiao Wan’s first time attending, so she knew the rules. She tailed obediently behind Qiao Heng, watching as he lit nine long incense sticks, kowtowed to the mountain god, and prayed for Great Li to prosper forever.

From afar came several long, echoing bell tolls. The officials behind knelt in unison and shouted, "Long live the Emperor—"

Qiao Wan also bowed to the ground. Perhaps swept up in the solemn mood, she quietly wished that the palace uprising two months later would not disturb the people and would shed as little blood as possible.

Lunch that day was vegetarian meal on the mountain. The ministers had already headed down early.

Qiao Wan stood on a rock ledge beside the altar, looking down at the tents below and the small bluff north of the tents. Below flowed a mighty wide river. Now, in winter, it was thinly iced over in the center. The river flowed gently, veiled in tendrils of mist.

It looked like something out of a fairy tale.

On the other side of the river was no longer Yanming Mountain’s territory.

After enjoying the view for a while, Qiao Wan got bored and looked away.

By the time Qiao Wan descended the mountain, it was already evening.

Her mind buzzing with thoughts, she changed out of her court dress after coming down and went to find Mu Chi.

To her surprise, Mu Chi’s tent was empty. Instead, a eunuch attendant named Chen Qi, who served Sun Lianhai, stopped her: "Princess, the Emperor wishes to see you."

Baffled, Qiao Wan glanced at Mu Chi’s tent, brushing aside her unease, and followed Chen Qi into the central tent.

The tent was spacious, adorned everywhere with majestic bright yellow dragon patterns, radiating authority.

Qiao Heng sat behind a desk, one hand resting on the arm of his chair as he was resting with his eyes shut.

Chen Qi respectfully approached and whispered, "Your Majesty, Princess Changle is here."

Qiao Wan pasted on a smile and stepped forward. "Father, why were you in such a hurry to see Wan Wan? What is it?"

"Good news," Qiao Heng glanced at her with a smile and sat up straight. "Little Eleven, I’ve let you play and have your fun all this time. But now that you’ve had your fill, it’s time to consider your future plans."

For the first time, Qiao Wan agreed with him and nodded seriously. "Wan Wan thinks so too."

Qiao Heng looked at her in surprise and laughed. "What a coincidence. I haven’t yet properly rewarded that boy from the Jing family for wiping out the bandits at Qingyun Mountain. I might as well take this chance to reward him all at once…"

Qiao Wan frowned, confused. "What’s Jing Lan got to do with any of this?"

"Wouldn’t it be good if I arranged a marriage for you two?"

"Him?" Qiao Wan stood up agitatedly. "Wan Wan doesn’t love him, and he is disgusted by me either. Marry him? Only if I were blind."

"Wan Wan," Qiao Heng’s expression darkened. "If that’s truly the case, why did you give him a woman’s personal item? Minister Wen witnessed it himself."

"What intimate…" Qiao Wan’s words died in her throat.

The missing sachet.

The sachet was in Jing Lan’s possession?

But thinking back to the day the sachet went missing—it was when they met at Yuxiu Pavilion. At that time, he was totally repulsed by the idea of marrying her and even declared that he’d "rather die than marry her." Taking her sachet would only make people get the wrong idea.

He would never use his future like it’s some ploy.

But aside from Jing Lan, who else could have gotten close enough to stealthily take the sachet…

Qiao Wan’s breath caught as an absurd thought gradually formed in her mind.

That tight, protective hug, the person who made her heart skip a beat…

That person—Mu Chi.

No, it couldn’t be.

She had only just brought Mu Chi to her residence not long before then. How could he have known what would happen later? How could he have planned everything from that moment?

"Nothing to say?" Seeing Qiao Wan silent, Qiao Heng’s tone softened. "Though exchanging private tokens is improper, I am not an inflexible man. If you and he are both sweet on each other…"

"Father," Qiao Wan’s face paled as she interrupted him, "I did not exchange any private tokens with him. Moreover, Major General Jing already has someone he likes…"

Qiao Heng frowned unhappily. He had wanted to settle this marriage quickly. "But many already know that Jing Lan has your intimate sachet. Do you understand how important a woman’s reputation is?"

Qiao Wan’s heart was all mixed up inside. Hearing Qiao Heng repeatedly mention reputation, she suddenly laughed. "Father, does Wan Wan even have any reputation to speak of?"

"Qiao Wan!" Qiao Heng was furious. "This matter is not up for—"

Before he could finish, Sun Lianhai hurried in, leaned close to Qiao Heng’s ear, and whispered something.

Qiao Heng’s expression changed dramatically as he looked at Sun Lianhai.

Sun Lianhai nodded nervously.

Qiao Heng frowned, pondered for a moment, then turned to look at Qiao Wan. "Think this through carefully."

With that, he rose and walked toward the command tent.

Sun Lianhai followed, closed the tent flap and ordered guards to keep watch outside before turning back into the tent.

"Is what you said true?" Qiao Heng looked at him and asked in a low voice. "That entertainer from the Songzhu Pavilion whom Qiao Wan brought—does he truly resemble Li Muxuan, the Crown Prince of Great Qi?"

Sun Lianhai hurriedly knelt on the ground. "When the Crown Prince of Great Qi came to seek marriage with Princess Zhaoyang, it was this humble servant who attended to him. If there is even the slightest falsehood in my words, may I die without a proper burial."

Qiao Heng turned, stood with hands clasped behind his back, his brow tightly furrowed. After a long while, he couldn’t help but angrily exclaim, "That Crown Prince of Great Qi!"

He's even reached into the royal family of Great Li.

That entertainer played "Frost Mountain Dawn" at the Songzhu Pavilion, and not long ago, Qiao Qingni obtained the sheet music. It was clearly aimed at Qiao Qingni.

"What did the Royal Astrologer say when Zhaoyang was born?" Qiao Heng suddenly asked.

Sun Lianhai answered tremulously, "Princess Zhaoyang is blessed with great fortune. The Royal Astrologer said, he said..." He hesitated for a moment. "Whoever gains Princess Zhaoyang will gain the world..."

Qiao Heng’s face turned ashen.

When the Royal Astrologer calculated this prophecy back then, countless people sought to win Qiao Qingni. Qiao Heng was naturally overjoyed, believing it was heaven blessing Great Li.

But who could have expected that the Crown Prince of Great Qi would come seeking marriage when Zhaoyang was just twelve years old?

Regardless of anything else, this move by Great Qi made it clear to him and to the other nations that what Great Qi desired was not just Princess Zhaoyang, but the entire world.

So all these years, he repeatedly postponed Zhaoyang’s marriage, which coincided with the three-year mourning period following the death of Li Muxuan’s mother.

But unexpectedly, before the mourning period had even ended, Great Qi wasn't willing to wait any longer.

"Whether he is the Crown Prince of Great Qi or not," Qiao Heng said sternly, "dispatch a team to eliminate him under the pretext of eliminating spies. Make sure to conceal your identities."

Sun Lianhai paused. "This humble servant sent people to track him earlier, but they lost him. I fear this person... possesses formidable internal energy."

Qiao Heng frowned deeply. After a long while, his expression turned stony. "If he's here for Zhaoyang, then we’ll start with her." After a few moments, recalling the prophecy, he added, "Do not harm the princess’s life."

"Yes."

Sun Lianhai bowed and retreated to carry out the order.

*

Meanwhile.

Qiao Wan, agitated and upset, waited in Qiao Heng’s tent for a while but, when he didn't return, had no choice but to leave.

As she lifted the tent flap and saw the person outside, she froze. "Jing Lan?"

Leaning against the tent opposite, wearing a hibiscus-red round-collar robe with his hair tied high in a ponytail—who else could it be but Jing Lan?

He stood in the already dim night, a torch burning beside him, his expression unreadable as he looked at her without saying a word. It was unclear how much he had overheard.

Qiao Wan paused, about to ask him about the sachet, when she heard Jing Lan let out a low, derisive snort before turning and walking away, the red jade beads on his ponytail swaying with each step.

Frowning, Qiao Wan assumed he was being moody again and headed toward her own tent.

Mu Chi’s tent was still dark; he had not yet returned.

Qiao Wan thought of that ridiculous thought and found herself unable to take another step. She stood still, gazing vacantly at the tent.

The cold winter wind chilled her fingertips, and her breath misted in the air.

Confusion welled up in Qiao Wan’s eyes. She didn’t understand either—she had merely caught a fleeting glimpse of someone in the marketplace that day and wanted to keep that person by her side.

It was the first time she had ever liked someone so much. Perhaps she had been too forceful, but she had never harbored any truly evil intentions.

Yet... why had such a simple desire become so complicated, filled with nothing but suspicion?

"Princess!" Yicui, who had come out to change the tea, looked at Qiao Wan in surprise, her fingertips red from the cold, and hurried over. "It’s freezing outside. Why haven’t you gone inside the tent?"

Qiao Wan snapped back to attention and looked at Yicui’s concerned expression, blinking rapidly.

She hated suspicion more than anything.

"Where is Mu Chi?" Qiao Wan asked.

"Has Mu Chi not returned yet?" Yicui glanced at the dark tent. "He went out at dusk. I didn’t ask where he was going, but I saw him heading north."

North.

Qiao Wan glanced toward the darkness in the north and nodded at Yicui. "I have some matters to attend to. You should rest in the tent for now."

"Princess," Yicui said worriedly, "let me accompany you."

Qiao Wan forced a smile. "Heat some water for me. I’ll be back soon to bathe."

With that, she headed north alone.

Meanwhile, at the small cliff on the northern side of Yanming Mountain.

Mu Chi stood facing the wind atop the cliff, gazing across a wide river at the scenery on the other side.

Even though the moonlight was bright tonight, the far side of the river remained cloaked in darkness, with only the faint glow of a few households visible.

That was the direction of Great Qi.

Mu Chi gazed for a long time before finally letting out a mocking laugh.

From last night until today, after reconnoitering Yanming Mountain, he had already drawn a map of the terrain and handed it to Si Li to deliver to his allies.

It was unexpected that Qiao Heng’s men had discovered his tracks, but it didn't really matter—after all, it was truly time for him to leave.

Mu Chi glanced down at the calm river below, his gaze flickered.

Half an hour ago, he had met with Qiao Qingni. She remained as graceful, gentle, and dignified as she had been during their brief encounter in childhood.

Nothing like that headstrong Qiao Wan.

Perhaps it was the remaining guilt from using Qiao Wan these past days that now stirred something in him—an emotion called "reluctance to leave."

It would fade in time.

Qiao Wan walked north until she reached the small cliff, where she saw Mu Chi standing with his back turned.

She didn’t know how long she had been walking—perhaps the time it takes to finish tea, or maybe the length of an incense stick's time—until a rapid, broad river stretched out before her.

This was the small cliff she had seen from the altar earlier.

The cliff was truly low, only about ten feet tall. The river surface below was calm and dark, lightly veiled in a cold mist, starkly different from the heavenly beauty it had by day.

And atop the cliff stood a figure.

He wore a snow-white brocade fur coat that fluttered in the night wind, bathed in clear moonlight. His slightly disheveled dark hair cascaded down his back. His tall, jade-like figure exuded an air of refined elegance.

He seemed lost deep in thought, standing motionless under the moonlight as he gazed at the distant river.

Qiao Wan stared fixedly at the familiar figure. He was looking toward Yanming Mountain, the direction of Great Qi.

Her footsteps unconsciously halted. In that moment, she felt that the Mu Chi before her was completely unfamiliar.

It was as if she had never truly known him.

Qiao Wan’s steps paused slightly as she stepped on a few dried winter leaves, making a faint rustling sound.

"Who’s there?" Mu Chi suddenly turned, his tone icy and laced with killing intent, as he looked directly behind him.

When he saw it was Qiao Wan, he seemed surprised, his expression freezing for a moment.

Tonight, Qiao Wan was not her usual self, meticulously groomed down to the last strand of hair.

Her hair was slightly disheveled, hairpins dangling precariously, with a few loose strands falling messily. Her face, wrapped in a fox fur coat, looked somewhat pale.

Mu Chi frowned in thought. If he remembered correctly, Qiao Heng intended to arrange a marriage for her and Jing Lan after the mountain worship ceremony.

He would finally be rid of her.

This realization stirred a faint, unwelcome twinge in his chest, and he frowned in displeasure.

Meeting Mu Chi’s gaze, Qiao Wan pressed her lips together tightly, then after a moment’s thought, walked toward him.

But the words she had intended to say—to demand answers from him—stuck in her throat when she was just three feet away from him.

The night breeze brushed past, carrying a faint, almost imperceptible scent of night-blooming jasmine.

It was the signature scent Qiao Qingni always used.

—Mu Chi had met Qiao Qingni today.

"Princess?" Mu Chi called out softly.

Qiao Wan looked at him in the moonlight, then after a long pause, responded quietly and walked up to him. The scent of night-blooming jasmine grew stronger.

She wrinkled her nose, stayed quiet for a few moments, then arched her eyebrows and smiled. "I didn’t see you in the tent, so I came out to look for you."

Mu Chi glanced at her pale face but did not respond.

Qiao Wan didn’t seem to mind. After a moment’s thought, she added, "I went to see Father earlier."

Mu Chi’s eyes flickered slightly. He knew better than anyone why Qiao Heng wanted to see her.

It was undoubtedly… about the marriage arrangement.

"Father said he wants to arrange a marriage for me," Qiao Wan’s words quickly confirmed his suspicions. She didn’t seem to expect a response from him, merely speaking to herself. As she continued, she even looked up and let out an exaggerated laugh. "Isn’t it ridiculous? Father actually wants to arrange a marriage between me and Jing Lan. It’s just too absurd. He likes Third Sister…"

Mu Chi watched the smile on her lips. Though he had orchestrated this very outcome, hearing it from her lips felt unexpectedly… distasteful.

Seeing Mu Chi’s impassive face, Qiao Wan pouted. "But actually, I was planning to go see Father too." She blinked at him. "Mu Chi, do you want to know what I originally intended to ask Father?"

Mu Chi finally spoke. He had a vague idea of what she might say but still asked, "What was it?"

Qiao Wan paused for a few breaths, looking at him. "I originally wanted to ask Father to arrange a marriage… for you and me."

She couldn’t bring herself to finish the last few words. Just then, a flash of cold, silvery light shot toward them, carrying a chilling aura.

Mu Chi’s expression changed slightly. He grabbed Qiao Wan’s arm and pulled her aside.

An arrow embedded itself into the stone where they had just been standing, its tail still quivering violently.

At the same time, dozens of black-clad figures silently emerged from the surrounding forest, their cold-glinting swords like death warrants in the night.

Qiao Wan felt herself being pulled by a tremendous force as they dashed into the forest.

The black-clad figures reacted quickly. Arrows rained down from all directions, piercing through the air, aimed directly at their lives.

Mu Chi’s eyes grew cold. He released Qiao Wan, took off his brocade fur coat, and used it as a shield. Moving like a silver streak of fire through the darkness, he blocked every incoming arrow.

Qiao Wan stood behind a tree, her face pale as she watched his fluid movements, as if she were looking at a complete stranger.

So, Mu Chi knew martial arts—and his skills were extraordinarily high, nearly superhuman.

She truly had never known him.

Another arrow shot straight toward the tree where Qiao Wan was hiding. Mu Chi’s expression turned icy. Before the arrow could embed itself into the trunk, he grabbed its tail and, in one fluid motion, hurled it back in the direction it came from.

A black-clad figure fell with a guttural groan, an arrow piercing through his throat. He lay motionless on the ground.

The others seemed intimidated by this display of powerful internal energy. They held their swords cautiously, watching Mu Chi.

Just then, a soft cry came from the cliff. "Master Mu."

It was a familiar voice, now trembling with fear, carrying a pitiful, trembling tone.

Qiao Wan looked up sharply.

On the cliff, a black-clad figure held a sword against Qiao Qingni’s slender neck, threateningly looking in their direction. "Master Mu, do you truly not care about Princess Zhaoyang’s life?"

Qiao Wan glanced at Qiao Qingni’s panicked expression, then slowly turned her gaze to Mu Chi.

The previously agile Mu Chi now stood still, obediently submitting to the black-clad figure’s threat.

For Qiao Qingni.

"Put on these shackles and come here," the black-clad figure arrogantly threw a pair of shackles toward him, watching Mu Chi intently.

Mu Chi stood where he was, looking at the cold iron shackles on the ground, but remained silent.

"Don’t try any tricks!" the black-clad figure growled again.

After a moment of silence, Qiao Wan watched as Mu Chi bent down, picked up the shackles, and casually slipped them onto his wrists. Step by step, he walked toward the cliff.

The cold wind blew against his thin white satin robe. Qiao Wan suddenly remembered—that robe was the one she had bought for him at Yuxiu Pavilion, along with the snow-white brocade fur coat now lying on the ground.

Qiao Wan glanced at the fur coat on the ground and smiled self-deprecatingly. Just as she was about to look away, something occurred to her, and she lowered her gaze.

Dozens of arrows were wrapped inside the fur coat, which was now tattered and ruined. And those arrows…

Qiao Wan’s breath caught. The arrowheads were sharp, cross-shaped barbed blades—once they pierced flesh, they were nearly impossible to remove.

Cross-shaped barbed blade.

And that cross-shaped scar from the dream.

Qiao Wan’s eyes widened as she looked toward the cliff.

Mu Chi had already reached the black-clad figure. Before anyone could react, he lunged forward, the cold, rigid shackles splitting apart like scrap metal in his hands. He reached out to rescue Qiao Qingni.

At the same time, countless torches emerged from the direction of the distant tents, accompanied by the rumble of approaching horses. A disciplined unit of guards, holding torches, charged toward them, with one shouting, "Capture the assassins!"

The black-clad figures panicked. In the darkness, an ice-cold arrow shot straight toward Qiao Qingni.

Qiao Wan stood frozen in place, her lips parted, but all she could utter was: "Mu Chi!"

But no one answered her.

She watched as the familiar figure in white moved through the dark night air above the cliff, gently pushing Qiao Qingni aside and taking the arrow meant for her chest.

She saw the cross-shaped arrow pierce through Mu Chi’s chest, gradually merging with the cross-shaped scar on the chest of the man from her dream.

Soon, blood stained his white robes, and the thick smell of blood filled the air.

His eyes flickered slightly, as if he wanted to look up, but he held back deliberately.

In his lowered gaze was an unmistakable darkness and chaos. Then, he slightly