Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Mercurial Qingyun

When Sikong’s red horse appeared behind them once more, the sky was already beginning to lighten. Kaiming couldn’t help but admire his persistence; after chasing them for a whole day and night, he didn’t seem the least bit fatigued. It was clear the enmity between the two ran deep.

“What on earth did you do to offend him?” She couldn’t help but shout, the cold wind choking her words and making her cough.

“I did nothing to offend him,” Qingyun replied, laughing as if Sikong’s pursuit was nothing more than a game. “Perhaps he simply can’t bear to see me go, after all, we’ve been brothers for so many years.”

As if she’d believe that nonsense—what kind of brother would greet you with arrows?

“Qingyun!” Sikong’s voice rang out from behind, carrying easily over the distance. “Come back with me at once, or don’t blame me for what happens next!”

Qingyun turned his head and grinned, “See? There’s still feeling there.”

“Feeling? If another arrow comes this way, I’ll be your human shield!” she snapped.

Qingyun seemed only now to realize this predicament. “That’s true. But don’t worry, if you die, I’ll make sure you have a proper burial.”

“You and that foul mouth of yours!” Furious, she bit him on the back without thinking.

He gasped. “That hurt! You really are savage. What a fate—so many gentle beauties favor me, yet I end up with you…”

“Less talking, more watching the road!” She found herself almost wanting to laugh. Why had she just done something so childish? This wasn’t a sugarcane or a banana, after all—it was Qingyun’s back. Damn it, she wanted to distance herself, but somehow kept getting misunderstood.

She glanced back; sure enough, Sikong was drawing his bow again. She grabbed at Qingyun’s clothes in panic. “He’s coming, he’s coming!”

“What is?”

“Sikong is about to shoot! He’s famed for hitting a willow leaf at a hundred paces—his arrows never miss. You’re in for it now.”

“What do you mean, I’m in for it? It’s both of us! We’ll be skewered together like grasshoppers. What a lovely way to die!” she retorted through gritted teeth.

Qingyun chuckled, his tone odd. “If that’s how we die, well, that would be quite something.”

“Enough of your nonsense—think of something!” She tugged at his collar. “Aren’t you supposed to be the brains of the outfit? There must be a way!”

“There’s nothing I can do,” he said, shaking his head slowly.

Kaiming, exasperated, grabbed the muscle at his waist and threatened, “Keep acting like a turtle and I’ll twist your flesh right off!”

“Oh?” Qingyun’s body tensed, though his voice didn’t change. Suddenly, she felt her wrist seized and pressed firmly against his bare abdomen.

She froze. She’d only meant to grab him in jest, but when had the wind blown open his robe? Her hand was directly on his skin. Unaware at first, but now the sensation beneath her palm made her heart race and her breathing quicken.

She tried to pull away, but couldn’t. Then Qingyun, out of nowhere, said, “Really, you weren’t lying?”

“What?” She rested her head on his back, distractedly responding.

“About your husband,” he said quietly.

She made a noncommittal sound, not knowing if he’d heard.

Qingyun suddenly reined in his horse, which stopped abruptly. He turned his head slowly, his gaze cold. “If that’s so, why should I help you return to the Central Palace?”

She was more confused than ever.

“I abandoned everything in the Southern Palace to be with you, but you have a husband.” He pressed his dry lips together, a frost settling over his features. “Why should I let you go back, let you all reunite, and play the benevolent fool?”

“Qingyun?” Her heart skipped with alarm. Had he changed his mind? Was she about to become a prisoner once more?

“Didn’t you want an idea?” He sneered, gripping her hand tightly so she couldn’t pull away. “Here’s my idea—let’s go admit our crimes to the general and spend the rest of our lives together in prison. How about that?”

“Don’t joke about such terrible things!” she cried, panic rising as Sikong’s horse drew closer. She struggled to break free. “You don’t have to go, but I must!”

Qingyun fell silent, his eyes fixed coldly on Sikong’s red horse a hundred paces away. Sikong, puzzled by their actions, drew his horse to a halt.

Qingyun turned his own mount and walked it slowly toward Sikong, his gaze never leaving the other man. “Commander Sikong, I offer you this female soldier. Perhaps this will atone for my crimes?”

Sikong’s face was full of surprise, his brows knitting. “Qingyun, what game are you playing?”

Qingyun suddenly burst out laughing. “When I tell the truth, you think I’m lying. When I lie, you believe me. Sikong, you haven’t changed at all.”

“Are you trying to provoke me?” Sikong’s face darkened as he raised his bow, aiming at them both. “Alive or dead, you’re both coming back with me.”

“Then take us alive!” Qingyun laughed, utterly unafraid. “It’ll be easier to explain things to the general that way.”

Sikong snorted—Qingyun wasn’t wrong. His own father had watched Qingyun grow up; if he died for no reason, there’d be no excusing it. It would be far better for Qingyun to explain away this fiasco himself. He was curious to see how Qingyun would spin his tale.

“Come here!” Sikong ordered coldly. “You’re coming with me.”

“Qingyun, you’re mad!” Kaiming cried in alarm. “Letting an enemy soldier go is no small crime, not to mention desertion. How will you explain it? Do you really want to end up in prison?”

Qingyun replied half-jokingly, “Didn’t I just say we’d go to prison together?”

She was furious—how had she ended up involved with such an infuriating man?

“Let me go! If you want to surrender, do it yourself!” She struggled wildly atop the horse, flailing with hands and feet. Suddenly, Qingyun released her, and, caught off guard, she tumbled to the ground, landing hard.

“You bastard!” she glared up at him. The strange, unreadable smile on his face sent a chill down her spine.

“You told me to let go, so I did,” he said, looking down at her, dark currents swirling in his eyes. “Without my help, let’s see how far you get.”

In that moment, Kaiming understood—this man wasn’t the pure lotus she’d imagined, but a deep and murky pool, the appearance of innocence wholly deceptive.

Angry, but not slow, she rushed forward, holding her breath. She’d barely taken a few steps when a long-feathered arrow thudded into the ground before her, quivering as if in mockery. If she’d stepped forward a second earlier, it would have pierced her foot. She sucked in a breath and turned, meeting Sikong’s mocking gaze.

He let his horse amble forward, voice dripping with irony. “Abandoned, are you? Seems the wheel of fortune has finally turned; now it’s your turn to be left behind.”

He nocked another arrow, aiming at her. “Run, then. If you can escape my range, I’ll admit defeat.”

She stepped back but didn’t move further. Cat and mouse, was it? If he wanted to play, she’d deny him that satisfaction. Furious, she shot a glare at Qingyun, who watched her with that same strange smile, as if enjoying the spectacle.

This—this was the man who’d seemed so devoted just moments ago! She cursed him a thousand times in her heart, glaring daggers at him, but her mind was a tangled mess with no solution in sight.

“Kaiming!” A clear, ringing shout came from ahead, the sound both dear and familiar. “Kaiming, is that you?”

Her whole body trembled. That voice—could it be…?

The clatter of hooves shattered the early morning hush, and two fast horses burst through the dawn’s first veil, coming to a halt less than a hundred meters away. One rider, with sword-sharp brows and star-bright eyes, was swathed in bandages and carried a long halberd—it was none other than Changgeng. The other, narrow-faced and monkey-cheeked, was Gouzi.

Both were shocked and overjoyed to see her. “Kaiming, you’re really alive!”

“Don’t jinx me!” she exclaimed, tears of happiness threatening to spill as she hurriedly wiped her eyes. “Hurry, help me deal with these two nuisances!”

Changgeng finally noticed the scene behind her, his gaze shifting from Qingyun to Sikong, eyes lighting up. “You! The one who ambushed me!”

“My name is Sikong,” Sikong replied haughtily. “Are all the Central Palace soldiers so ill-mannered?”

“Who cares about your manners!” Changgeng urged his horse forward, swinging the halberd at Sikong. “Show me what you’ve got! This time, it’s a fight to the finish!”

“Gladly!” Sikong hadn’t brought a spear, but drew his sword and met the challenge without hesitation.

As the two clashed fiercely, Gouzi sidled closer to Kaiming, nervously glancing at the unmoving Qingyun. Hands cupped around his mouth, he whispered, “Kaiming, what’s going on? Why is Qingyun here?”

“It’s a long story,” she sighed, shooting a fierce glare at Qingyun. He watched the fight with interest, then glanced her way with a faint, enigmatic smile. She stepped back, eyes fixed on him, and said to Gouzi, “He’s a villain! The worst kind! Hurry and chop him down!”

Qingyun shook his head at this. “Kaiming, you’re truly heartless. Just because I let you fall from the horse, you hate me so much? Haven’t you considered all I’ve done for you? From my perspective, things aren’t so simple. Besides, when we were on the grass earlier, who knows how—”

“Shut up!” she barked, cutting him off. Flushed with embarrassment and anger.

Gouzi, clueless, asked, “What happened on the grass?”

Qingyun smiled, as if announcing to the world, “Doesn’t anyone want to know what Kaiming’s lips taste like—”

“Bastard! Shut your mouth!” she was nearly hysterical. Damn him—anyone could guess the rest from just that much.

“You two…” Gouzi was dumbfounded, eyes wide, words stuck in his throat.

She spun around and sprinted toward Gouzi. Qingyun was a devil—she was sure of it.

Gouzi called out as he saw Qingyun’s white horse move at the same time. The horse’s mane flew, Qingyun’s handsome face sharp among his loose, pale robes, looking almost otherworldly. For a moment, Gouzi was frozen, forgetting to help.

“Gouzi!” she cried urgently.

Gouzi snapped out of it, but just as he did, Qingyun’s white horse was already at her side. With a relaxed smile, Qingyun reached down to help her up.

“Ka—iming!” Gouzi cursed his own distraction and hurried forward to help.

Suddenly, a flash like lightning, swift and deadly, shot straight for Qingyun’s outstretched hand. Alarmed, Qingyun withdrew at once, pulling his horse aside in haste.

A long, shadowy object struck the ground with a sharp crack, quivering before their eyes. Kaiming collapsed to the ground. The thing that had flown past was embedded deep in the earth, barely an arm’s length away—a long arrow, with brown feathers and a black shaft.

Qingyun’s gaze turned toward the direction from which the arrow had come, and she instinctively followed. After all the turmoil, sunlight finally began to spill lazily over them. The gloom of night had not yet fully dispersed, but from the first rays of morning, the gentle sound of hooves approached, and a figure gradually emerged.

The moment Kaiming’s eyes met this newcomer, they widened in disbelief. How could it be him? How was it possible?