Chapter Fifty-Eight: A Woman with a Husband

Night descended as expected. Qingyun stood on the grass, gazing up at the sky. He wore only an outer robe; his inner garments and shoes had been removed and hung upon the branches behind him. For reasons unknown, a breeze stirred in the forest, rustling his long robe with a soft whistling sound.

“Are you observing the stars?” Kaiming crouched on the grass, shaking her damp shoes. She too wore only an outer garment. The sunlight of the afternoon and the lingering warmth of the rocks had managed to dry her clothes only partially. Unable to endure the discomfort of clinging wet fabric, she had stripped off the excess, which now hung from the branches like a row of flags, fluttering in the wind.

Qingyun turned to look at her. She was clad in nothing but a loose outer robe, its hem falling to her knees, the sleeves rolled up above her arms, and she swung her cloth shoes about with a comical air.

He couldn't help but smile. Was this woman utterly unconcerned about men, or did she simply assume he was harmless?

“I'm watching the stars,” he said, pointing towards the sky.

Kaiming followed his gesture, seeing only a handful of lights scattered across the dark backdrop. “What's so interesting? There are only a few.” She kept shaking her shoes, focused on the task at hand.

“You really have no sense of romance,” Qingyun sighed, approaching her. “On such a beautiful night, alone with a refined gentleman, and you’re busy with your shoes.”

“Are you a refined gentleman?” She glanced at him sidelong, from his disheveled attire to his messy hair. Aside from his reasonably handsome face, she saw no evidence befitting that description.

He came closer, crouched, and smiled openly, letting her gaze roam freely.

“You have beautiful hair.” He lifted a strand, letting it slide between his fingers like silk gently brushing his skin, a curious sensation, and a ripple stirred in his eyes.

She drew her hair out of his grasp, rolling her eyes. “It’s getting dark. We should be on our way.”

“Wait a little longer.”

“For what?” A chill wind swept by, and she sneezed, rubbing her nose. “Are we waiting for me to freeze to death? You won’t even allow a fire.”

“Firelight would give us away. Though Sikong has moved downstream, we must be absolutely cautious.” Seeing her drop her sleeves and rub her arms, he asked, “Are you cold?”

“A little,” she replied casually, pulling her robe tighter.

Qingyun glanced at himself hesitantly, then opened his arms to her. “Come.”

“What are you doing?” Instantly, she tensed.

“Let me lend you my warmth.”

“No need, I appreciate the offer.” Her cheeks flushed at his directness, Qingyun truly was straightforward.

He continued to look at her, maintaining his crouched posture. The wind brushed between them, lifting strands of hair. Kaiming sensed a shift in the atmosphere—Qingyun's smile faded, his gaze became intent, and the open collar revealed a broad expanse of pale chest, with his hair falling across it, lending an unexpected allure.

Her breath caught; her heart pounded furiously. Her mouth was dry and her tongue numb, feeling as if she were an inexperienced girl before the lover who stirred her heart.

“I—I… um…” She scrambled to her feet, seeking to escape the dangerous gaze beside her.

Her wrist was caught and, with a gentle pull from Qingyun, she lost her balance and fell into his arms. The heat radiating from his bare chest was overwhelming; she felt as if she had embraced a pair of fire tongs and was shocked.

“What are you doing?” She struggled, but his embrace was tight, and she could only tug at his clothes.

“Weren't you cold?” he teased.

“I said I—!” She gasped, forcing out each word, wondering if Qingyun intended to kill her with his strength.

He eased her away just a little, looking at her with a playful smile. “Even the strongest woman should be gentle at times. Only then do men feel the urge to protect.”

She shivered at the word “urge,” her mind wandering to unintended meanings. She shook her head to dispel those messy thoughts. Qingyun’s face was shrouded in darkness, watching her silently.

“I think… it’s about time. We shouldn’t… waste so much time…” she said, feeling guilty as his face drew closer in the darkness, his warm breath brushing her cheeks and tickling her heart like a feather duster.

She knew what would happen next, yet felt immobilized, staring at him helplessly.

Amid her pounding heartbeat, Qingyun’s lips lightly touched hers, soft as a dragonfly skimming water, fleeting and gentle.

Her eyes widened.

Before she could speak, Qingyun moved in again, cupping her cheeks and pressing his lips to hers. This time he was no longer tentative; his kiss was wild and stormy.

Kaiming nearly fainted, grabbing at his clothes frantically. She suddenly felt herself leaning back, her spine pressed to the hard earth—he had pinned her to the grass.

Both were breathless, their clothes disheveled. As his face neared hers again, she cried out, “Qingyun, wait!”

He stopped, his eyes hazy, as if barely able to contain a powerful urge, his voice nearly hoarse. “What is it?”

“This isn’t right!” She bit her lip, playing her final card. “I… I have a husband!”

“What did you say?” He seemed not yet fully lucid.

“Husband—my husband! Surely you know those words?!” To escape embarrassment, she had no choice but to use Xuan as her shield.

Qingyun’s eyes gradually cleared, then turned to anger. He grabbed her collar, lowering his voice. “Is this just another of your tricks?”

“I’m not lying!” She met his gaze. “It’s true—my husband, his name is Xuan.”

Qingyun stared at her as if trying to see into her soul, silent for a long moment. The breeze whispered around the treetops; all was still.

At last, he released her collar, gently straightened her robe, brushed the grass from her hair, and said, “I’m sorry.”

Kaiming turned away, unable to meet his eyes.

The air was frigid.

Qingyun stood, tied his hair up, put on his dry shoes, and walked to the white horse grazing nearby. He patted its neck and called to her, “Let’s go!”

She dared not speak, hurriedly gathered her clothes and pants, not caring about her damp shoes, and followed him.

They quickly left the forest and reached the riverbank. Again, they removed their shoes, placing them on the horse’s back.

“Qingyun,” she murmured, clutching his sleeve. “I’m sorry.”

Qingyun smiled. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

She couldn’t find the words. Qingyun treated her differently from others—three times capturing, three times releasing her, even forsaking his rank to help her escape danger. She wasn’t blind; she knew that without a special reason, no man would go to such lengths.

Yes, he had told her he needed a reason for her surrender. She wasn’t foolish.

Qingyun was pure as a lotus, she still believed this, and didn’t wish to sully him. Her relationship with Xuan was too complicated; until it was clarified, how could she entangle herself with Qingyun?

Her identity and memories all needed Xuan to unravel.

“Careful!” He steadied her as she nearly slipped on the rocks beneath the river. “How can you be so clumsy?”

He tapped her on the head. “Stop overthinking. Deal with those matters once we’re safe!”

Holding her head, she felt a measure of relief. She looked across the river and hurriedly asked, “Strategist! Strategist!”

“Call me Qingyun,” he replied, tossing the words over his shoulder.

She quickly amended, “Qingyun, look—isn’t that the same riverbank where we entered the water this afternoon? How is it such a coincidence?”

“It’s not a coincidence. I deliberately chose to land there.”

“Deliberately? Why?” She was even more puzzled.

“They won’t find us downstream. Most would have given up by now, but Sikong’s stubborn nature might bring him back here. Even if it’s a one-in-a-thousand chance, we should leave no trace.”

“No trace? How is that possible?” she exclaimed, wondering if he meant to sweep the ground again with branches.

“There’s another way to leave no tracks,” Qingyun said slyly.

Kaiming watched in confusion as he walked to the riverbank, turned around, and carefully stepped backward into his previous footprints, retracing his steps to the shore. Even the white horse obeyed, walking backward as he led it.

Her eyes widened—so, besides brushing away tracks, retracing one’s own footprints backward was another viable method.

“Hurry up!” Qingyun’s smile was free of any shadow, as if nothing unpleasant had ever happened.

With a mix of anxiety and awe, she imitated his actions, stepping backward along the footprints.

“I stepped off the track—what should I do?” she called out.

Qingyun laughed. “It doesn’t matter. Who would examine so closely? Just avoid making a mess—it’s not a crime scene.”

She replied and retreated even more carefully.

“In truth, in the darkness, no one would notice. I’m just overly cautious—old habit,” he admitted.

She was speechless; her respect for this man had grown yet another degree. She now understood why the young Qingyun could be the strategist of Nangong.

They emerged from the path onto the main road. The white horse galloped ahead, cutting through the cool night wind like a whirlwind. Kaiming felt at ease at last, clinging tightly to Qingyun’s waist, smelling the faint fragrance from him, feeling his warmth, her mind wandering uncontrollably to the earlier scene on the grass.

Did Qingyun like her? Even now, it felt like a dream; nothing seemed real. She and Qingyun hardly looked like a matched pair.

Suddenly, the horse stopped abruptly, and she was caught off guard, bumping her nose against Qingyun’s back. “Ouch!” she cried.

“What’s wrong?”

From behind, she saw Qingyun’s profile raised, his expression grave as he watched the sky. There, fireworks burst like a signal, vanishing in an instant.

“Damn! Someone fired a signal flare!” Qingyun spurred the horse and shouted, “Hold tight—we need to hurry!”

She quickly hugged his waist, asking anxiously, “What’s going on, what’s going on?”

“Sikong has stationed sentries every hundred meters along the path. As long as we remain near the riverbank, whichever side we land on, he’ll have someone spot us in time. I was careless!” He laughed loudly, as if admiring Sikong’s tactics. “I never imagined he’d keep such a trump card!”