Chapter Fifty-Six: Peril on All Sides

“Strategist!”
“Commander!”
Reports from the soldiers flew in like scraps of paper—one caught in a trap, another hoisted by a rope snare. In no time, five or six men were lost.
“Damn it!” Sikong slammed his palm against the trunk of a nearby tree in frustration.
Qingyun glanced at him, his expression unchanged. “This is already the limit. She couldn’t have had time to set traps further out. Pass the order—cast a wide net. The hunt begins.”
Sikong glared at him irritably and waved his hand. All the soldiers dispersed into every corner, beginning a thorough search.
Kaiming held her breath, hiding in the shrubbery, carefully avoiding the random thrusts of soldiers’ spears. Once the rustling sounds faded into the distance, she cautiously parted the leaves to survey her surroundings.
Her gaze landed on something—a beautiful white horse, standing alone in a secluded spot, munching grass roots, occasionally letting out an impatient whinny. It was the most exciting thing she’d seen all day.
Most fortunate of all, that terrifying strategist Qingyun was nowhere nearby.
She watched for a while, making sure no one else was present. Then, moving carefully, she crept toward the white horse, both apprehensive and thrilled. She couldn’t be sure if this lone horse was a trap, but if it was, she had no choice but to take the leap.
If she moved fast enough, she thought, she could vault onto the horse’s back and make her escape.
Nervously, she stepped out from the shrubbery, fully exposed to the sunlight, which made her uneasy. She glanced around, then quickly ran to the horse’s side, seizing its bridle. The frantic beating of her heart suddenly settled.
“You lovely thing. You really are beautiful,” she murmured as she stroked its long mane, genuinely admiring it. She didn’t know why, at such a moment, she would say something so foolish, or do something so reckless, but the horse truly was stunning—snow-white without a single blemish.
The horse seemed to respond, snorting loudly. She quickly raised a finger to it, found the stirrup, and prepared to hoist herself up.
“Little Star…”
Just then, a light, floating voice broke the stillness behind her, sounding as if it came from the clouds yet was close enough to touch.
The sound sent a numbness through half her body; her feet felt like stone, incapable of movement.
The voice continued, ethereal and gentle: “Twinkle, twinkle, little star, shining bright in the sky…”
The soft song, like an invisible wedge, pried open her closed mind. She vaguely recalled that night, singing the lullaby to a drunken Qingyun, coaxing him as one would a child.
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star, shining bright in the sky.” The blush on his face, the dreamy eyes, and the slender fingers tugging at his sleeve.
Her senses returned, cold water flooding her body. She spun around, eyes wide.
Qingyun, otherworldly as a celestial being, always in plain robes, now wore none of the defenseless smile she’d seen that night. He stood by the shrubbery she’d just exited, a mocking smile on his lips. “Little Star, you’ve finally shown yourself.”
She quickly scanned his sides—fortunately, he was alone.
“Alright, I’ll pay my dues!” She clenched her fists, stretching them out to him. “Tie me up!”
Qingyun looked amused. “Are you truly admitting defeat?”
“I’ve lost to you, I admit it!” she said, biting her lip unwillingly.
Qingyun approached, his steps light, his smile faint. “I thought you’d hold out a little longer. Giving up so quickly is rather dull.”

“Enough talk—kill me or do what you like!” Her face was full of irritation.
Qingyun stopped in front of her. “So eager to die?”
“Doesn’t what I’ve done warrant death?” she retorted coldly.
“More than enough for a hundred deaths,” he replied, meeting her gaze. “Three times captured and released without gratitude, sowing discord, burning camps—and now, setting traps to harm Nangong’s soldiers. Any one of these is enough for the death penalty!”
She pressed her lips together stubbornly, staring back at him.
He gave a faint smile. “But, on the other hand, it proves you are entirely capable of protecting yourself, needing no one’s care.”
She gave a cold laugh. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“It’s my praise for you,” Qingyun’s smile grew, spreading across his face. She was unsure what he meant, staring at him in bewilderment.
“I dislike burdensome women, and I dislike troublesome ones. Your performance exceeded my expectations.” He reached out, touching her tangled hair at her temple. “Very good.”
Kaiming dodged his hand, glaring warily. “I don’t know what the strategist is talking about. If you’re not going to capture me, let me go!”
“Let you go? Impossible now.” His eyes were odd, different from before. His handsome gaze curved, becoming crescent-shaped. “Do you think you can just climb into my bed and be done with it?”
Kaiming’s heart skipped a beat; she involuntarily touched her chin to keep it from falling off in shock. “What do you mean!” Under his teasing gaze, the flush on her face deepened, almost making her jump. “It was you who…”
Thinking of last night’s intimacy, the feel of his palm on the back of her head, the careless embrace—heaven help her, if only he didn’t mention it, she could forget the embarrassment. The more he brought it up, the more mortified she felt.
“I never knew you were such a passionate woman,” he teased, watching the fierce female soldier who now shrank smaller and smaller, ready to burrow into the ground. Seeing her so flustered, all his pent-up frustration seemed to dissolve, and he wanted to laugh aloud.
Kaiming didn’t need to touch her face to know how red it was. Seeing his smug expression, shame and anger surged together, and she suddenly stared directly behind Qingyun, her flushed face turning pale with alarm. “Commander Kong!”
Qingyun was startled. Could it really be that every time he was alone, Sikong would catch him? He twisted around, only to see rustling leaves, not a soul in sight.
Damn it! He cursed inwardly—fooled again!
The sound of hooves approached. Without looking, he knew Kaiming had ridden off on his white horse. Qingyun, unhurried, placed his fingers to his lips and whistled. The snow-white horse suddenly turned around and trotted back.
Kaiming’s face turned truly pale. For a moment, she didn’t know whether to get off or stay put.
Qingyun snorted, seized her arm, and leapt onto the saddle, taking the reins from her. He murmured, “With so many searching for you, you dare ride my horse openly through the woods?”
She hesitated. Was Qingyun willing to help? She blurted, “What should I do?”
“Just follow my lead.” Qingyun took off his outer robe, draping it over her head. “Lean on me, and no matter what happens, don’t make a sound.”
She obeyed, pressing close to his chest. As the horse moved, her body swayed, and Qingyun’s arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her. The heat radiating from him was like a furnace, and Kaiming felt herself burning from face to body, as if she were a pancake sizzling red-hot.
On the road, they encountered a few soldiers. Qingyun replied each time, “The guardsman is seriously wounded and bleeding. I’ll take him back to camp first. You follow Commander Sikong and continue searching.”
Who would dare question the strategist of Nangong? No one wondered who lay beneath the robe. Kaiming breathed a sigh of relief, glancing at the path beneath her feet—they had left the forest and were heading straight onto the main road.
She pulled the robe from her head and looked around excitedly. “We’ve really escaped!”

Qingyun didn’t answer, only quickened the pace. “We’re not completely out of danger. If Sikong becomes suspicious, he’ll catch up soon enough.”
Puzzled, she said, “You don’t need to escort me any further. You can go back now!”
Qingyun smiled. “Who said I was escorting you? I’m going with you.”
She was shocked. “You’re going back to the Central Palace with me?”
He confirmed it.
“You’re resigning as strategist?” She could barely form the words. Such a promising career, given up just like that? What was Qingyun thinking?
“When you reach the thing you’ve always sought, you must let go of the other.”
He had found what he wanted. Her heart thudded—could it be… Although the truth was plain, she refused to think in that direction. “You can come to the Central Palace, just don’t follow me.”
He agreed. “I won’t be a burden.”
She didn’t know how to respond and muttered, “How can someone be so foolish? Giving up being a strategist, starting over in another country, building from nothing—truly ignorant of life’s hardships. How much time does a person have to waste in a lifetime…”
Qingyun chuckled. “What are you muttering about? I told you—I won’t be a burden. I can provide for myself.”
She silently added, That’s not the issue. This Qingyun is so stubborn.
“At this pace, how long will it take to reach the Central Palace?” She found a topic to ask.
“Fastest, we’ll arrive by evening—if there are no pursuers.” Qingyun glanced casually behind, but his expression suddenly changed. That sweeping cloud of dust was clearly a pursuing force. “Looks like this journey won’t be so smooth.”
Sikong, searching the forest, saw Qingyun’s squad slowly merging with his own and grew curious, asking the soldiers. Their response was unanimous: “The strategist told us to follow the commander.”
He asked, “Where’s the strategist?”
“He took the guardsman back to camp first. Said the guardsman was badly wounded.” No sooner had he spoken than he glanced up and saw the guardsman at Sikong’s side. The soldier looked panicked—how could he be here?
Sikong turned, recognizing the very guardsman who was always by Qingyun’s side. The guardsman was equally bewildered, staring back in confusion.
“Are you seriously injured?” Sikong demanded angrily, a sense of unease rising in his chest. “Did you go back to camp with Qingyun?”
The guardsman was even more shocked, unable to utter half a word.
Sikong cursed, mounted his horse, and shouted, “Everyone, pursue! Capture the traitor Qingyun! Alive or dead, bring him back!” He spurred his horse and rode ahead.
The soldiers, completely at a loss, wasted no time and hurried after him.
Windchaser lived up to its reputation. Emerging from the woods, its red mane flying, four hooves pounding like thunder. Not only did it leave the soldiers behind, but from afar, Sikong spotted the prey ahead.
His sharp eyes fixed on the snowball-like white horse. Sikong reached into his quiver, drew a gleaming arrow, and fitted it to his taut bowstring. His gaze narrowed with fury, and the razor-sharp arrowhead aimed unwaveringly at the swaying target ahead.