Time passed in an indeterminate blur. Night on the Gray Leaf Plain remained bitterly cold, even in the height of summer. The voices of the Western Jing soldiers had long since faded; they had not pursued her here. Zuo Canglang felt her legs, buried deep within the mire, beginning to go numb. Every time she attempted the slightest movement, the speed of her sinking increased. After several tries, she gave up entirely.
Strange insect cries echoed in her ears as she stared blankly at the night sky.
Suddenly, a clear voice rang out from the darkness. "You certainly look leisurely."
Zuo Canglang turned her head to find Murong Yan standing some distance away, outside the bounds of the swamp. He stood with his hands at his sides, his posture as straight as a spear. For some reason, she felt an immediate sense of relief. She spread her hands helplessly. "This... isn't exactly by choice!"
Murong Yan let out a short laugh and watched her for a moment. Zuo Canglang asked, "My Lord, what do you think of my recent performance?"
Murong Yan arched an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"
Zuo Canglang finally grew anxious. "If you think it was even passably good, then hurry and save me! I’m about to sink!"
Murong Yan laughed so hard he could barely stand straight. Once he caught his breath, he surveyed the terrain and began to strip off his clothes. Zuo Canglang called out, "My Lord, you... you aren't planning to come down here and join me, are you?"
Ignoring her, Murong Yan removed his cloak and outer robe, tearing them into strips and knotting them into a rope. He secured one end firmly to a nearby boulder and tossed the other end toward her. Zuo Canglang grabbed the makeshift rope and began to haul herself forward, inch by agonizing inch.
The cold moon was like a blade, and the stars blinked rhythmically. Murong Yan stood on the bank, clad only in his white inner robes. Occasionally, when Zuo Canglang’s strength failed her, she only had to look up at him to feel a renewed surge of power. Straining with every ounce of her being, she finally, slowly, crawled onto the bank.
Murong Yan initially reached out to pull her up, but seeing her hands covered in black mud, he retracted his hand. By the time Zuo Canglang finished climbing out, there wasn't a clean spot left on her body. Worse still, her legs were frozen stiff.
As she lay panting beneath a cluster of brambles, Murong Yan asked, "Can you manage to walk three miles?"
Zuo Canglang struggled to stand. Seeing that she truly couldn't find her footing, Murong Yan stepped closer and allowed her to lean against his left shoulder. Clinging to him tightly, she forced herself forward with great effort. Her throat felt dry and painful as she managed to ask, "Won't the Western Jing soldiers pursue us?"
"Feiyan will lead them away," Murong Yan replied. "We only have two hours. If we don't make it out of here, we'll be caught sooner or later."
Zuo Canglang nodded. The venomous insects in the swamp had bitten her mercilessly; her body now alternated between stabs of pain and bouts of itching, compounded by the stinging grazes from arrows. She ignored it all, focusing only on each step. By the time they finally cleared the marshlands, it was the middle of the night.
The White Wolf River lay before them. Zuo Canglang practically crawled into the water, desperate to wash away the layer of black mud. She could hardly stand the foul stench of the mire. Once she was mostly clean, she turned her head to see Murong Yan in the water as well. A man who usually placed great importance on his appearance, he now had his long hair loose and disheveled, wearing only his inner robes. Both his clothes and hair were soaked, clinging to his frame. Across the river reeds, they caught each other's gaze and burst into laughter.
The scene was pathetic; they looked no better than stray dogs.
After their laughter subsided, Murong Yan said, "Little Ji City must be under strict guard now. We will wait until dawn to enter." It would be a tragedy to survive the Western Jing only to die at the hands of their own people.
Zuo Canglang agreed, then asked, "But what about Feiyan?"
"She will be fine," Murong Yan said.
He spoke with such confidence that Zuo Canglang didn't press further. Murong Yan wrung out his wet clothes and sat beneath a thicket of reeds. He didn't dare light a fire for fear of attracting the Jing army. Having fled for half the night, they were both exhausted, hungry, and cold. He leaned against a riverside rock to rest.
The cold wind pierced through them, a chill that reached the bone. Suddenly, he reached out a hand to Zuo Canglang. "Come here."
Zuo Canglang walked over, bewildered. Murong Yan signaled for her to sit, then pulled her frozen feet into his lap. Zuo Canglang felt as if she had been scorched by fire. "My Lord!"
"Sit still," Murong Yan commanded. She had no choice but to obey. He then added in a low voice, "I didn't realize the nights on the Gray Leaf Plain were this cold."
Zuo Canglang remained silent. His body heat radiated through his damp, cold clothes like a spark igniting a prairie fire. She no longer knew if it was cold; she only knew that the cold moon and sparse stars were enchanting, and the misty reeds left them undisturbed.
After this night, there would be no more such fine hours.
The next day, Murong Yan and Zuo Canglang entered Little Ji City together before returning to Jinyang. It wasn't until they reached his estate that Zuo Canglang finally enjoyed a proper sleep in a real bed.
Wang Yunzhao settled her in the same small courtyard where she had stayed before, then attended to Murong Yan as he bathed and changed. Murong Yan asked, "Aside from Leng Feiyan, who else can contact the Swallow's Nest?"
Wang Yunzhao paused slightly. "Feng Ping can."
Murong Yan nodded. "Have him contact them. If Leng Feiyan hasn't returned in three days, he is to take over."
Wang Yunzhao was secretly alarmed. "Has something happened to Young Mistress Leng?"
Murong Yan lowered his head to tie the silk cords of his robe, his expression indifferent. "Hard to say. With her skills, she might find a way out. But she isn't familiar with the terrain. If she fell into the hands of the Western Jing, she is likely already dead."
"Should Your Highness send someone to look?" Wang Yunzhao suggested. "Perhaps..."
"No." Before he could finish, Murong Yan said flatly, "It isn't worth it."
That afternoon, after Zuo Canglang woke up, Murong Yan ordered a meal to be prepared in the water pavilion. Zhou Xin, Feng Ping, and Xu Lang were all in attendance. Zhou Xin said, "My Lord, you have cleared the Yang family's name and delivered a powerful counterattack against the Western Jing. The people's hearts are already turning toward you. Why not simply ascend the throne as King?"
Murong Yan pondered for a moment. "Ascending now would inevitably bring the eternal infamy of a palace coup—the reputation of a traitorous official and a rebellious son."
Wang Yunzhao interjected, "If My Lord were to title himself the Prince Regent of Yan, overseeing the state on behalf of the King, surely no one would object."
Murong Yan thought it over. "I must discuss this with Bi Chengjing and the other elder ministers. I have few confidants in court; they still side with my father. They only follow me now out of necessity."
Feng Ping added, "Not all of the elder ministers are unwavering. If Your Highness grants them favors exceeding those of the King, it’s hard to say where their true loyalties will lie."
Murong Yan glanced at Zuo Canglang. "What do you think?"
"I don't know the court officials well," Zuo Canglang replied. "But by following My Lord now, they are already rebels in the King's eyes. They may not realize it yet, but the incident where the King fried the messenger in oil has left them trembling with fear. I believe if the stakes are made clear to them, they won't oppose you too strongly."
Murong Yan said, "Only Bi Chengjing commands enough respect to lead the court, but he will never be the one to voice these words."
"Right Chancellor Jiang Sanyi has followed the King to Yuyang," Zuo Canglang noted. "The position of Right Chancellor is currently vacant. Since My Lord lacks confidants, why not cultivate one?"
Murong Yan nodded and turned to Wang Yunzhao. "Summon Gan Xiaoru to see me."
Gan Xiaoru was of a similar age to Jiang Sanyi and held the rank of a third-rank Vice Minister. He was a socially adept man, always possessed of great ambition. Murong Yan received him privately in the study. "Lord Gan, how many years have you served in the bureaucracy?"
Gan Xiaoru was a shrewd soul. Murong Yan had forced his father and brother away and now held Jinyang in his palm; Gan Xiaoru knew his life was in the Prince's hands. He quickly replied, "To answer Your Highness, I entered the service at twenty-seven. It has been thirteen years."
Murong Yan paced slowly past him. "In the current court, Chancellor Bi is advanced in years and burdened by trivialities; I fear his strength may fail him. Meanwhile, the Right Chancellor has followed my father to Yuyang and cannot attend to administration. The affairs of state are complex; I worry Chancellor Bi is overwhelmed."
Gan Xiaoru was as sharp as they came; he understood the hint instantly. "Why doesn't Your Highness select a suitable candidate from among the officials to serve as Acting Right Chancellor?"
Murong Yan looked at him, his gaze steady. "I had the same thought, but there is a difficulty."
Gan Xiaoru met his eyes and suddenly felt a brilliance in that gaze so piercing he didn't dare look directly at it. He averted his eyes, his heart pounding. Murong Yan had made his point clear; how could he not understand?
He gritted his teeth. The position of Right Chancellor! He had served for so many years; even under Murong Yuan, how many more years would it have taken to climb that high?
Hardening his heart, he knelt and clasped his hands. "Your Highness is devoted to the country and its people, but the appointment of a Right Chancellor can only be made by the King of Yan. Currently, the King is far away in Yuyang, and the court cannot remain leaderless for a single day. I... I..." Once these words were spoken, he would forever be a traitorous official of Great Yan. He took a deep breath and said resolutely, "I implore Your Highness, for the sake of the people of Yan, to ascend the throne."
Murong Yan smiled. Speaking with clever people was truly efficient. "But the other ministers might not see it that way."
"I have many old acquaintances in court," Gan Xiaoru said. "I am willing to lobby on Your Highness's behalf. They are all reasonable men; I am certain they will support you."
"Then," Murong Yan said, "I shall leave it in your hands, Chancellor Gan."
The following day, Gan Xiaoru coordinated with a faction of officials to submit a joint petition, requesting Murong Yan ascend the throne as the King of Yan. Bi Chengjing shook with rage, he and a group of elder ministers denouncing Gan Xiaoru’s clique as traitors who sold their lord for glory. Gan Xiaoru’s faction countered by calling them short-sighted fools clinging to obsolete traditions.
The two sides argued incessantly in court, while Murong Yan watched with cold detachment.
Naturally, the entire morning yielded no result. Gan Xiaoru was not deterred; having served for so many years, he had his own students and associates. As soon as court adjourned, he gathered them to strategize for the next session.
Murong Yan didn't say much to them, returning directly to his estate. At that time, Wen Qi was busy dealing with the Western Jing's retaliation, and Murong Yuan was gathering his old subordinates in Yuyang. For the moment, Jinyang and the two Ji cities were peaceful.
Just as Murong Yan entered the water pavilion, a wild goose fell from the sky. An arrow had pierced through both its eyes with pinpoint accuracy. As Murong Yan bent to pick it up, Zuo Canglang emerged from the peach grove. "My Lord?" Seeing the goose in his hand, she quickly knelt. "I had a sudden itch to test my skills and startled My Lord. Please, punish me."
"Rise," Murong Yan said. "This is a rather unique gift you've sent."
Zuo Canglang followed behind him. "How was the court session today?"
Murong Yan laughed. "How could it be? Bi Chengjing and his lot aren't people a mere Gan Xiaoru can sway."
"It hasn't been long," Zuo Canglang said. "They have received the King's favor for many years; a temporary stubbornness is only natural. My Lord shouldn't take it to heart."
"Of course I won't," Murong Yan said. "Loyal and righteous men are few in Great Yan, but fortunately, a few remain." Zuo Canglang stifled a laugh. Murong Yan teased, "You laugh? You have the nerve to laugh. Tomorrow I'll have you attend court as well, so you can experience what it's like to endure insults with a smile."
Zuo Canglang couldn't help herself. "If My Lord commands it, I shall certainly follow."
Murong Yan sighed. "Forget it, I'll face them alone. After all, my face is thicker than yours." He gestured with his long, elegant fingers near her cheek, his pinky brushing a lock of her black hair.
Zuo Canglang instantly lowered her head, her face flushing like a blooming crabapple.
Murong Yan handed the goose to Wang Yunzhao. Wang Yunzhao said, "Your Highness, Feng Ping requests an audience."
Murong Yan gave a word of assent. He rarely kept secrets from Zuo Canglang, so Wang Yunzhao led Feng Ping directly to them. Feng Ping said, "Your Highness, news has come from the Swallow's Nest..." He leaned in and whispered into Murong Yan's ear.
When he finished, Zuo Canglang suddenly asked, "Why are you the one reporting on the Swallow's Nest to My Lord?"
Feng Ping did not answer. Among Zuo Canglang, Leng Feiyan, and Yang Lianting, he was undoubtedly their senior. In terms of both seniority and strength, he was their equal. However, because he operated in the open, he was clearly not as favored. Despite this, he remained Murong Yan's confidant and had always maintained the air of a superior before Zuo Canglang and the others.
But because of their shared past in the Orphan Camp, the three of them clearly lacked any respect for him. To this day, none of them were willing to call him "Master."
Faced with Zuo Canglang's question, he acted as if he hadn't heard. Clearly, he felt no need to answer her. As the two stood in a stalemate, Murong Yan spoke. "Feiyan hasn't returned. Feng Ping has taken over the Swallow's Nest and is searching for her."
"Since she was lost in the Gray Leaf Plain until now?" Zuo Canglang asked.
"Yes," Murong Yan replied.
Anxiety was written all over Zuo Canglang's face. "We must go find her. Her martial arts are superb, but the terrain of the Gray Leaf Plain is incredibly complex, and she doesn't know it."
"Leave these matters to Feng Ping," Murong Yan said.
"No, I want to go personally." Zuo Canglang dropped to one knee, her gaze earnest. "My Lord, please let me handle the matter of Feiyan."
Murong Yan looked at her for a long time before saying, "Since you've put it that way, how can I refuse?"
Zuo Canglang bowed. "Thank you, My Lord." Without another word, she turned and left the estate.
Murong Yan stood by the peach grove and glanced at Feng Ping. "After you took over the Swallow's Nest, did you not send anyone to look?"
Feng Ping hesitated. After a long pause, he said, "The Gray Leaf Plain is still in the hands of the Western Jing, and the paths are treacherous, so..."
"Feng Ping," Murong Yan interrupted, "I gave you eight years. You had the chance to make them look up to you as a teacher and a father. But you are always so lacking in patience. A man who refuses to care about trivialities will eventually be defeated by his own arrogance."
Feng Ping bowed. "I thank Your Highness for the teaching. I shall keep it in mind."
"I hope you truly do," Murong Yan said. "Find someone to follow her. I can afford to lose a Leng Feiyan, but if I lose a Zuo Canglang, I will be truly displeased."
Feng Ping gritted his teeth. "I understand."
He rose, retreated three steps, and left the estate. Murong Yan looked at Wang Yunzhao. "Those children have different temperaments. I do not wish to see unnecessary conflict again."
Wang Yunzhao’s face went pale. "Yes, this old servant understands."
***
Zuo Canglang left the Prince's estate and wasted no time in finding the Swallow's Nest's contact station. The organization was currently in a state of panic. Only Leng Feiyan had the antidotes they needed, and Yang Lianting was currently unreachable. If Leng Feiyan didn't return in a few days, these people would suffer greatly.
Zuo Canglang didn't ask them to look for Leng Feiyan directly. Instead, she had them gather information on Zhuge Jin.
When they were separated in the Gray Leaf Plain, Leng Feiyan had taken Zhuge Jin hostage. Without Murong Yan's order, she likely wouldn't kill him. As a major general under Wen Qi, Zhuge Jin's movements were much easier to track.
Sure enough, the Swallow's Nest soon reported that Zhuge Jin had appeared in Suoye City over the past two days. It seemed he had returned to his post.
Zuo Canglang traveled through the night to Suoye City, using her old connections in the army to slip into the city. Although she was now on the opposite side of Wen Qi, Murong Yan's uprising didn't actually offend the soldiers. It was only out of loyalty to Wen Qi that they didn't defect.
This was exactly what Wen Qi feared most. Once she involved herself in military affairs and built bonds with the soldiers, it would be impossible to tell if there were moles within the ranks.
Zuo Canglang didn't intend any harm. She successfully slipped into Zhuge Jin's tent, scaring him half to death. "Zuo Can—Zuo Canglang!" He reached for his blade, but Zuo Canglang already had her bow drawn. Zhuge Jin froze. Zuo Canglang said, "We were comrades once. Even those who have known each other until their hair turned white may still reach for their swords, but isn't this a bit much?"
"You have a lot of nerve," Zhuge Jin said, "sneaking into the camp like this!"
"Don't worry about me," Zuo Canglang said. "Tell me, where is the girl who took you hostage in the Gray Leaf Plain?"
"She fell into the swamp and died," Zhuge Jin said.
Zuo Canglang's expression shifted instantly, and she drew her bowstring to its limit. Panicked, Zhuge Jin blurted out, "Fine, fine! I'll tell you! She held me hostage the whole way, making me lead the way. We were almost out of the swamp when, for some reason, she went back. She dumped me by the White Wolf River, and it took twelve hours for my acupoints to unseal. I nearly froze to death!"
"You don't know why she went back?" Zuo Canglang asked.
Zhuge Jin kept his eyes on her arrow. "I really don't. But I think I heard her say something about how the lead Western Jing general was actually quite handsome."
Zuo Canglang: "..."
Initially, Zuo Canglang had doubted everything he said, but once that sentence came out... fine, she believed him. She knocked Zhuge Jin unconscious and slipped out of the camp. Hearing voices ahead, she turned into the shadows and saw Wen Qi, clad in a plain cloak, inspecting the camp.
The Western Jing had been attacking the city continuously for days. He likely hadn't slept in nights; as he walked, he held his hand to his lips, coughing slightly.
After only a few days apart, the elder she had respected most in her life had become a stranger on a different path. The days of listening to him explain military strategy were likely gone forever. She turned away, vanishing into the darkness.
***
Leng Feiyan’s delay in the Gray Leaf Plain really was because of a Western Jing general. When she took Zhuge Jin hostage, it was because she knew she didn't know the way. Since Zhuge Jin had dared to ambush Zuo Canglang there, he naturally knew the plain well. The place was a literal minefield of swamps; falling in was no joke.
She was leading Zhuge Jin out of the marsh when suddenly, arrows began to fly. The torches of the Western Jing lit up the shrubs. Leng Feiyan turned to deflect an arrow and saw the lead general. He was of mixed blood from some tribe, with a high bridge to his nose and deep-set eyes. His pale blue pupils, reflecting the torchlight, had a mesmerizing quality that made one's heart skip a beat.
Leng Feiyan couldn't help but let go of Zhuge Jin. "This fellow has a truly fine face!"
Zhuge Jin was completely stunned. Then he watched as she tapped his acupoints and crept toward the Western Jing soldiers. As soon as they spotted her, they unleashed a volley of arrows, but Leng Feiyan was a madwoman; she ignored everything, charging straight for the general.
Though she was struck by three arrows, she managed to seize him.
The Western Jing general was dumbfounded. In the dark, eerie swamp, amidst the cold shrubs, a woman had suddenly appeared as if riding the wind. She was like a spirit born of the darkness, reaching him almost instantly. Then, she tilted his chin up and said, "You're quite good-looking. Are you willing to come with me?"
Before the words had even faded, a dagger was pressed against his throat. He didn't look at the sharp, bloody blade; instead, he stared at her face. She had a face beautiful enough to make poetry lose its color. When she smiled, she seemed unconquerably powerful, yet the slight curve of her lips held a hint of girlish mischief.
In his vision, everything else vanished, leaving only this person amidst the pale gold firelight, like a celestial, like a fiend.
Seeing him standing there dazed, Leng Feiyan didn't kill him. She asked, "What is your name?"
His mouth felt dry. After a long moment, he stammered, "Wu... Wu Gu."
Leng Feiyan patted his shoulder. "Very well. From now on, you're mine! But first, let me deal with them." Arrows were still flying from behind. She turned and swept her sword through the rain of arrows, her body moving like a streak of light. He saw only a blur. Moments later, the screams of the Western Jing soldiers rang out, only to fall into a sudden, heavy silence.
The woman calmly snapped the arrows in her own body and pulled out the heads. "Alright, let's go. Don't just stand there like an idiot. Come over and apply some medicine for me."
Wu Gu walked over involuntarily. Beneath her white clothes, the wounds were gruesome, yet the skin around them was as smooth as cream. He gently sprinkled the medicinal powder as she said casually, "My name is Leng Feiyan. Remember it."
Later, when Wu Gu thought back on that night, he never quite knew what he had been thinking. He hadn't even resisted; he hadn't even had the thought to fight back.
He simply remembered that name. He remembered it for the rest of his life.
***
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