Chapter 53: Warm Pool

Chapter 53: Warm Springs

West Mountain Pasture.

Si Li galloped swiftly towards the army's encampment.

The young master hadn't returned to the Prefect's residence last night. It was only this morning, upon inquiry, that Si Li learned he had actually gone back to the camp. After handling the Prefect on the young master's behalf, Si Li also rushed to the camp.

As he neared the central tent, Si Li immediately sensed the unusual atmosphere—it was grim and chilling, with everyone on edge.

Si Li stopped a soldier, and just as he was about to ask what had happened, the soldier exhaled in relief: "Steward Si, you've finally arrived."

"Early this morning, at Yin hour, His Highness suddenly returned. Without a word, he went straight to the prisoner-of-war camp and ordered that anyone who could defeat him would be granted freedom…"

Si Li's expression subtly changed: "What was the outcome?"

The soldier, recalling the corpses in the camp, paled and shook his head: "When His Highness emerged, his clothes were barely stained."

Si Li frowned deeply: "Where is His Highness now?"

"He has returned to his tent."

Si Li felt a wave of relief and hurried towards the central tent. Outside, he called out, "Young Master," waited a moment, then entered.

To Si Li's surprise, the tent was not heated by multiple braziers as usual. Today, only one was lit, emitting a modest warmth.

The young master sat calmly yet wearily behind the desk, his face devoid of expression.

But his complexion was as if frozen—paler and more ashen than usual, with a few congealed droplets of blood on one cheek. His stiff limbs remained motionless, and even his breath carried a chilling coldness.

Lifeless.

Si Li was alarmed and quickly lit the other braziers. Only when the tent grew warm did he ask, "Young Master, did someone under your command fail in their duties?"

Mu Chi's pupils shifted slightly as he said calmly, "Qiao Wan's room also only has one brazier lit."

But last night, he hadn't felt cold at all; in fact, he had slept more soundly than he had in over three years.

Yet upon returning, when he tried using only one brazier, it felt like plunging into an icy abyss.

Si Li was taken aback. His gaze fell on the young master’s hand resting on the table, where there was a dark red bite mark, clearly made with considerable force. The next moment, he realized the young master had likely gone to see Princess Changle last night and lowered his head, not daring to speak.

Mu Chi finally seemed to come back to himself. He looked at Si Li, his voice slightly hoarse, and asked wearily, "What happened?"

Si Li hurriedly replied, "The spy we planted in the Alhe tribe reported that after learning our army is passing through Molan, Alhe plans to dispatch troops from Sui Prefecture, passing through Guyang straight to the borders of Jiuyuan, aiming to seize the initiative."

Mu Chi glanced at the map before him: "Alhe wants to set the battlefield in Molan, hoping to stir up resentment among the Molan people toward Great Qi."

After all, if the battle were to take place in Sui Prefecture, regardless of victory or defeat, the cities would be reduced to ruins. But by stirring conflict in Molan, the Molan people would inevitably resent Great Qi.

"How will you respond, Young Master?"

Mu Chi paused, feeling an inexplicable weariness, as if everything he was doing now had lost its meaning. After a long moment, he said, "Send reinforcements to guard Guyang, and summon the generals."

"Yes," Si Li acknowledged, then added, "Young Master, today I overheard Prefect Qin discussing with a scholar that north of West Mountain there is a warm spring. Warm water flows down from the mountain, forming a natural pool said to be very beneficial for health. Given your cold constitution, perhaps you could go there to recuperate."

Mu Chi frowned, about to refuse, but then he recalled how Qiao Wan had shivered slightly in her sleep last night when his cold touch first brushed against her. He pressed his lips together and remained silent.

Si Li didn’t dare linger. He clasped his hands in salute and prepared to take his leave, but then, remembering something, he glanced at Mu Chi’s hand and hesitantly said, "Young Master, it would be best to apply some medicine to your hand."

With that, he turned and left the tent.

Mu Chi looked down at his hand. The neat bite mark had started bleeding again from his earlier clenched fist.

He still couldn’t feel any pain, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about the things Qiao Wan had said last night, a sour ache tugging at his heart.

She said she had found a new father for that boy named Wu Jiu.

She also said they had already exchanged birth certificates.

She even said she was tired of him...

His heart constricted sharply, and Mu Chi’s face paled. He took out a jar of white jade ointment from his sleeve and was about to apply it when several generals entered the tent. One of them, Fan Zhu, called out loudly, "Your Highness, I heard you plan to send reinforcements to guard Guyang?"

Fan Zhu had always valued capability over connections. In the past, he thought the Prince was nothing more than a pretty face, but over the past three years, as the Prince led them northward, achieving countless military successes, Fan Zhu had long since been won over.

As he and the others entered the tent, they saw Mu Chi about to tend to the bite mark on his hand—clearly from a woman. Fan Zhu, blunt as ever, said, "People say Your Highness has been living austerely these past years, but I see your little lady—"

A fellow soldier quickly tugged at his sleeve, and Fan Zhu finally realized his blunder, his face turning pale. "This general spoke out of turn. I beg Your Highness’s forgiveness."

Mu Chi said nothing, quietly gazing at the bite mark on his hand.

A moment later, he put the white jade ointment back into his sleeve...

*

The day Qiao Wan and Wen Xubai went to the warm springs was the fourteenth of November.

The sky was somewhat overcast, but Wu Jiu was very excited, carrying his small zither the whole way and plucking at its strings from time to time.

Qiao Wan and Wen Xubai did not share a carriage. By the time they reached the warm springs, Wen Xubai was already waiting for them.

Although Qiao Wan had been in Jiuyuan for nearly three years, she had never visited this place before. Now that she saw it, its reputation was well-deserved.

The mountain slopes here were gentle, with thick accumulated snow still covering the rocks.

But between the mountain ranges, a spring gurgled down, its path shrouded in mist, warm and moist, gathering into a natural pool at the foot of the mountain—the warm springs.

Chu Wujiu, after all, was still a child. His small figure darted about in the mist.

Qiao Wan and Wen Xubai followed behind, walking toward the front of the warm springs.

When they reached the very front, Qiao Wan saw a secluded courtyard not far away, nestled among the mountains and mist, like a celestial abode.

"What place is that?" Qiao Wan asked.

Wen Xubai followed her gaze: "That’s a courtyard built for the nobility and officials in the area. It channels the warm water from the mountain for recuperation and relaxation."

Qiao Wan understood.

Wen Xubai finally stopped at a pavilion beside the courtyard. Thanks to the nearby warm springs, it didn’t feel bitterly cold.

Qiao Wan sat to the side, watching as Wen Xubai patiently taught Wu Jiu to recognize the strings and distinguish the notes.

Wu Jiu was clever and soon could tell the difference between the sounds of the qin and the zither, though his chubby little hands still produced a chaotic mess when playing.

Qiao Wan quietly watched the two, one tall and one small, and after a long while, she faintly curved her lips.

This is good, she told herself.

Chu Wujiu plucked the strings again, producing a discordant note. The sound pulled Qiao Wan out of her thoughts.

She watched Chu Wujiu clumsily playing the zheng and involuntarily laughed.

Her laughter caught the attention of the two over there. Chu Wujiu knew she was laughing at him and immediately pouted.

Wen Xubai also laughed, ruffled Wu Jiu's head, and said something to him. Chu Wujiu's eyes lit up, and he nodded, setting the qin zheng aside before running off to play.

Wen Xubai walked over to Qiao Wan and said softly, "Miss Qiao…"

"Please call me Wan Niang," Qiao Wan interrupted him.

Wen Xubai was taken aback.

Qiao Wan blinked at him. "Since we've already exchanged our betrothal documents, calling me Miss Qiao feels too distant."

Wen Xubai pondered briefly before smiling and nodding. "Alright, Wan Niang," he said in his usual gentle tone. "What made you laugh just now, Wan Niang?"

Qiao Wan pretended to ponder. "I was thinking about how I used to look when I was learning to play the zheng."

"Miss Qiao has learned to play the zheng before?"

Qiao Wan nodded. "My family was fairly wealthy before, so we hired a tutor to teach me."

Wen Xubai paused for a moment before adding, "You never mentioned that, Miss Qiao."

"I didn’t continue for long," Qiao Wan said, thinking back to her days at the Imperial Academy, and pouted. "There were a few others learning with me. I actually learned several pieces well, but whether it was the tutor or people around me, they only ever praised another student who played better. In a rage, I smashed all my zhengs and went to learn martial arts instead. Over time, I forgot all the pieces I had learned."

Back then, everyone thought that a headstrong princess like her suited the image of being unrefined, and they only humored her because she was favored.

Meanwhile, Qiao Qingni had always been the center of attention since childhood.

Wen Xubai listened quietly and after a moment suddenly said, "How about I teach you to play the zither, Wan Niang?"

Qiao Wan was stunned. "You’ll teach me?"

Wen Xubai smiled at her. "Although I’m no master, I do know a few beautiful pieces. Of course, only if Wan Niang is willing to learn…"

Just then, a mountain breeze swept through, scattering the mist. Wen Xubai's white robes billowed gently, his features elegant.

Qiao Wan’s gaze drifted for a moment before she abruptly looked away and stood up with a smile. "Since you’ve offered, I’ll give it a try."

Wen Xubai smiled faintly. When he glanced up and saw the courtyard ahead, his smile faded slightly as he followed her slowly.

Wen Xubai’s offer to teach Qiao Wan was spur-of-the-moment. Since Wu Jiu’s zheng was too small, the two ended up sharing Wen Xubai’s qin zheng.

Just as they settled in, five or six men in blue scholars’ robes approached from a distance. Spotting Wen Xubai and Qiao Wan, they came forward with a bow and joked, "So this is why you turned us down today, Brother Wen—you already had plans! Who’s this young lady…"

Wen Xubai returned the bow, glanced quickly at Qiao Wan, his ears turning red, and said calmly, "This is Qiao Wanniang, my fiancée."

"So that’s how it is…" they said in unison with laughter. One of them even bowed formally to Qiao Wan and said, "I am Li Yuan, nice to meet you, sister-in-law!"

At that, everyone burst into laughter. It wasn’t until one of them said, "Alright, let’s not disturb Brother Wen any longer," that the group finally left, still chuckling.

Wen Xubai sat back down behind the qin zheng and apologized to Qiao Wan with a smile. "Those were some of my former classmates. They’re here to enjoy the scenery as well."

Qiao Wan glanced at their backs as they left. "They seem like quite the refined scholars."

"If they heard you say that, it would go to their heads," Wen Xubai laughed, his gaze returning to the qin zheng. "Shall we begin?"

Qiao Wan nodded.

But it had been four years since she last touched a zheng, and she could only barely remember the notes and chords.

"Let’s start with a simple piece today," Wen Xubai mused for a moment. "Yu Meiren is more lyrical and flowing compared to other tunes, and it’s relatively easier to learn. How about that one?"

Qiao Wan’s hand, which had been absentmindedly plucking the strings, stilled.

"Wan Niang?" Wen Xubai called softly when she fell silent.

Qiao Wan collected herself and smiled. "Sure."

Wen Xubai placed his hands on the strings and played the piece first.

Qiao Wan listened to the familiar melody. Only after he finished did she try it herself, with Wen Xubai instructing her from time to time.

Just then, a withered leaf drifted down from a branch and landed in Qiao Wan’s hair.

"Wait," Wen Xubai said softly.

Qiao Wan looked at him, puzzled. Wen Xubai reached out, his fingertips gently brushing her hair as he plucked out the withered leaf.

Then, abruptly, a sharp coldness pierced through the mist—a flash of metal shot straight through one of the strings, embedding itself deeply into the paulownia wood at the end of the qin.

With a sharp snap, the string broke.

Qiao Wan instinctively looked toward the end of the qin and was shocked when she saw the dagger.

It was her dagger.

The hilt was inlaid with red jade, surrounded by golden phoenix patterns—elaborate and delicate.

The very dagger she used to keep hidden at her ankle back in Lingjing.

Qiao Wan looked up sharply, scanning the area.

From the courtyard ahead, a figure stepped out slowly.

The forest was covered in snow, yet this person’s skin seemed even paler than the snow, making everything around him seem faded.

In the dead of winter, he walked barefoot, step by step, treading on withered leaves and crushed snow. His dark hair and inner robes were damp, a snow-white brocade fur coat slung over his shoulders, fluttering in the mountain breeze.

Though a smile graced his lips, his eyes were dark and bottomless. His jade-like fingers toyed with a scabbard.

For a moment, he looked strikingly like that young male courtesan from the Songzhu Pavilion’s golden cage.

Qiao Wan frowned tightly. She hadn’t expected Mu Chi to be here. It wasn’t until Wen Xubai uttered "Your Highness" that she managed to collect herself, watching as Mu Chi approached leisurely.

Qiao Wan stood up, pressed her lips together, and then bowed her head slightly. "Your Highness."

Mu Chi looked at her, his grip on the scabbard tightening slightly.

He had just arrived at the courtyard separated by a wall when he heard the scholars’ laughter. At first, he paid it no mind, but upon hearing "Qiao Wanniang" and the teasing "sister-in-law," he finally confirmed who was outside.

He had watched from the gate for a long time.

Watching Wen Xubai teach her to play the qin, watching the child named Wu Jiu playing in the distance—the three of them intimate and harmonious.

The piece Wen Xubai taught her was Yu Meiren, exactly the same as the one he had taught her back then.

It wasn’t until Wen Xubai reached into her hair that he could bear it no longer and acted. The dagger in his hand was aimed at Wen Xubai’s neck, but in the end, he held back.

He feared she truly meant what she said that night—that she would stick with Wen Xubai.

Yet when he revealed himself, all he received was her face pale as she said, "Your Highness."

He would rather she push, shove, and kick him as she had the previous night—vivid and alive—than this polite and distant act before him now.

Mu Chi walked up to the two, his hand slowly tracing from the head to the tail of the zither, pulling out the dagger and sheathing it. Then, shifting the dagger to his right hand, he held it before Qiao Wan’s eyes but directed his question at Wen Xubai: "What do you think of this dagger, Young Master Wen?"

On the back of his hand, the dark red bite mark remained fresh; and, having been soaked, the scab had split open again.

Qiao Wan’s breath caught—she had bitten him that night.

She feared he might suddenly call her "Princess," exposing her identity in front of Wen Xubai.

Wen Xubai’s gaze swept briefly over Mu Chi’s hand before he replied calmly, "Sharp and exquisite."

"Indeed," Mu Chi sighed softly. "Such a fine dagger—it’s a pity someone discarded it."

As he spoke, he let out a strange, muffled cough, a hint of red appearing inside his lips. He withdrew the dagger. "A rabbit bit the back of my hand. Just now, I thought I saw that very rabbit. This dagger was the only weapon at hand, so I threw it without a second thought. It seems my eyes deceived me, and I accidentally damaged Young Master Wen’s zither."

Qiao Wan pressed her lips tightly together, listening to his lie.

Wen Xubai said, "It’s no trouble. I can restring the zither when I return."

"That’s good to hear," Mu Chi chuckled softly, his eyes shifting to Qiao Wan. "It’s just a pity Young Master Wen can no longer continue teaching the zither."

Wen Xubai paused in surprise.

Qiao Wan clenched her fists and turned to Wen Xubai. "Since we can’t continue today, it seems luck isn’t on my side. Perhaps we should head back—"

"I happen to know a little about music," Mu Chi interjected, his gaze fixed on Qiao Wan. The smile on his lips faded, his eyelashes trembling slightly as he enunciated each word: "...Wan Niang."

Qiao Wan whipped her head around to look at him. After a long moment, she said, "Is Your Highness joking?" She walked to Wen Xubai’s side. "Wen Xubai is my future husband. It’s only natural for him to teach me. Your Highness and I share no such relation, and your hand is injured. It wouldn't be right in every way."

Mu Chi’s fingers stilled.

Qiao Wan smiled faintly and added, "Besides, Your Highness is of noble status. How could I possibly be worthy of your instruction?"

Mu Chi’s face paled. He remembered back at the princess’s residence, how eagerly she had sought him out, wanting to learn "Frost Mountain Dawn," and how he had coldly refused her.

At the time, he felt she was unworthy of "Frost Mountain Dawn."

Now, those cold words had become a blade turned against himself.

Qiao Wan said no more. She turned and called for Wu Jiu, preparing to leave.

Just then, Mu Chi plucked a zither string forcefully. A heavy note rang out, the bite mark on his hand splitting open again, oozing pus and blood, while fresh crimson welled from his fingertips.

Mu Chi paid it no mind, only turning stubbornly to Qiao Wan. "I can teach you. Whatever you wish to learn, I can teach you."

Qiao Wan paused slightly. Just then, Chu Wujiu ran over but slowed upon seeing Mu Chi. He glanced at Qiao Wan before burying himself in her arms, whispering, "Mom."

Qiao Wan gently stroked his hair, her gaze passing over Mu Chi to rest on Wen Xubai. "Let’s go."

Wen Xubai nodded with a gentle smile, gathered the zither, and bowed to Mu Chi. "Your Highness, I take my leave."

Mu Chi said nothing, remaining barefoot where he stood, watching as the three of them walked away together until their figures disappeared from sight.

After a long while, he suddenly let out a muffled cough. His lips and the corners of his eyes flushed with a striking red, lending his cold face an almost enchanting allure.

The next moment, he turned abruptly and flew toward the distance like a streak of white light.

*

Qiao Wan and Wen Xubai’s carriages were not parked together. Since Wen Xubai still carried the heavy zither, they parted ways after saying their goodbyes outside the hot springs.

Qiao Wan held Wu Jiu’s hand as they walked toward her carriage.

Chu Wujiu looked up at her and whispered, "Sister Wan, that man… are you afraid of him?"

Qiao Wan was taken aback. "Afraid of him?"

Chu Wujiu shook her hand. "Your hand is cold."

Sister Wan’s hands were rarely cold; no matter the situation, they always felt warm.

Qiao Wan’s fingers stiffened. Irritated, she said, "I’m not afraid of him."

"Then what is it?"

Qiao Wan didn’t answer, instead bending down to pinch Wu Jiu’s chubby cheeks. "Since when do you have so many questions, hmm?"

Chu Wujiu squirmed under her pinching, soon forgetting what he had asked.

The carriage was now in sight. Qiao Wan released Wu Jiu, helped him into the carriage, and was about to step in herself when something hit the ground with a thud behind her. A wave of cold air surged, enveloping her layer by layer.

In the next instant, a force from behind pulled her toward the carriage wall, but a hand caught her, pulling her back. Her back pressed against the wall, and a cold fragrance filled her senses.

Wu Jiu, who had been lively just moments ago, was now unconscious.

"What did you do to Wu Jiu?" Qiao Wan’s eyes widened as she glared at Mu Chi, who had suddenly entered the carriage.

Mu Chi leaned extremely close, his cold breath brushing her cheek. He looked down at her. "Don’t worry. This time, he’s only taking a short nap."

"You bastard!" Qiao Wan raised her elbow and struck his chest hard, trying to push him away.

Mu Chi didn’t evade. Instead, he moved closer, pulling her entirely into his embrace—including the blow. His chest felt heavy. It didn’t hurt, but it ached dully. She hadn’t held back.

Seeing her still struggling, Mu Chi said, "Wen Xubai’s carriage may pass by not far ahead at any moment."

Qiao Wan froze instantly.

If Wen Xubai noticed something amiss with her carriage, nothing could be explained.

Qiao Wan looked up, staring intently at Mu Chi, her eyes glistening with moisture. "You know perfectly well I’m now engaged to Wen Xubai. Why can’t you just let me go?"

Mu Chi’s gaze flickered, confusion surfacing.

Let her go? Then who would let him go?

Qiao Wan watched his shifting expression and suddenly laughed, deliberately choosing the most cutting words: "What? Does the exalted Crown Prince insist on being my paramour?"

Mu Chi’s arms tightened around her abruptly, closing the distance between them. The hand against her back trembled slightly with anger. Finally, he calmed himself. After a long moment, his Adam’s apple bobbed, and he spoke in a hoarse, weary voice: "Qiao Wan, I won’t touch Wen Xubai."

"Return the betrothal agreement."

Author's Note:

Doggie: That was close!