Xiao Nanhui suffered from insomnia.
She rarely experienced it, and back when she was in the army, she never did; usually, the moment the back of her head touched a pillow, she was asleep.
But ever since hearing what Su Pingchuan had to say, sleep had become an impossibility.
Whenever she closed her eyes, her mind was flooded with a revolving door of nightmare scenarios. It was as if, come morning, A’Kuang would drag Xiao Zhun in chains before her, gloating and posturing with malicious intent.
There was a traitor in the army. Judging by the depth of this person’s knowledge, their rank was likely not low, and they were very possibly within the Northern Camp at this very moment. How could she possibly sleep peacefully?
At the thought of this, she climbed out of bed, threw a blanket haphazardly over her shoulders, and stood in the courtyard until dawn.
Wu Xiaoliu, rising early to fetch water, saw the woman standing there like a statue, her hair dusted with frost.
Something must have gone wrong with that prisoner last night.
“Did something happen?” Wu Xiaoliu asked, though he already suspected as much.
Xiao Nanhui glanced at him but didn't bother to answer.
Indeed, she didn't even know where to begin. Wu Xiaoliu didn't even know her true identity. The only person here who knew a fraction of the truth, who would certainly stand on the same side as her, and who was neither sick nor crippled was Hao Bai.
Just as she was calculating her next move, Hao Bai emerged from the side room with a head of disheveled hair. A layer of frost had formed over the withered yellow grass; he lost his footing and nearly took a tumble.
Xiao Nanhui looked to the sky and let out a long, heavy sigh.
A fat man, a wandering doctor, and a crippled soldier languishing in a cell. She wanted someone to rely on, but truly, she couldn't count on any of them.
“So Chief Pan is already up. Had I known, I would have come in to report sooner.”
A voice rang out from the courtyard gate. Recognizing it as one of her own men from the stronghold, she didn't panic.
“What is it?”
“Master A’Kuang and his brothers left a short while ago.”
“What? They’re gone?” This was unexpected. Then, a thought struck her, and her heart tightened. “Did they take the Tiancheng soldier with them?”
“No, they didn't. He left from the west. When he passed the sentry post, he told the brothers he had urgent business—perhaps something to do with the war in the north again.”
She breathed a small sigh of relief, but an uneasy feeling rose in her chest.
No, this departure was too abrupt. Moreover, it was impossible for him to leave Su Pingchuan behind in her hands.
Had she slipped up and aroused suspicion? Or was it Su Pingchuan’s identity...
Countless possibilities flashed through her mind, none of them offering the slightest comfort; each was more heart-pounding than the last.
Xiao Nanhui tossed her blanket to Wu Xiaoliu, quickly retrieved her Pingxian, and said to him in a low voice, “I’m going out. Sunset is the limit. If I haven't returned by then, follow the instructions I gave you previously. Do you understand?”
Wu Xiaoliu looked a bit dazed, seemingly not expecting this day to arrive so soon. “What exactly is going on?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Xiao Nanhui slung the Pingxian onto her back and checked the dagger in her boot. “But it’s likely nothing good. Do you understand what I told you?”
Wu Xiaoliu nodded, instinctively turning back to look at Hao Bai.
Hao Bai’s expression was also somewhat grim, but for once, he wasn't noisy. He simply turned and went back into the house, busy with heaven-knows-what.
By the time Wu Xiaoliu looked back, Xiao Nanhui had already vanished.
***
A’Kuang tapped out the charcoal ash and lit a fresh brazier to warm his hands. He shifted his position beneath his heavy cloak, already beginning to curse inwardly.
The coldest time in Bijiang wasn't midwinter, but right now. A forest coated in frost like this was a magnet for frigid air, capable of sucking the last bit of warmth from a person’s body.
He had been waiting here for over an hour. Seeing the sun sinking from the zenith toward the west, the person he was waiting for still hadn't arrived.
If not for his fear of the master behind that person, why would he endure such suffering? Over the years, the things he had done for the Bai clan numbered in the thousands, if not tens of thousands; he had even been the bridge for the assassination of Prince Kang.
The corners of his mouth quirked up, but then he suddenly recalled the way Prince Kang looked when he died. His neck felt a sudden chill, and he couldn't help but shudder.
Fine, he would wait.
“Master, it looks like someone is coming.”
His subordinates were sharp. Seeing his impatience, they had been looking around expectantly and came to report as soon as they spotted a figure.
A’Kuang haphazardly kicked the pile of fruit peels and charcoal ash into the nearby bushes, focusing all his attention on the direction of the newcomer.
A round fruit pit rolled down the slope, zig-zagging until it hit a cluster of red willows and stopped.
Xiao Nanhui looked down at the pit and licked her dry lips.
The terrain here was flat and difficult to hide in. She had tracked them to this vicinity and, after looking around, found only two rocks that were barely usable. She used the Pingxian to brace herself between the two boulders, coming down periodically to carefully stretch her legs. She hadn't had a drop of water all day, and her hands and feet were stiff with cold. She was far worse off than A’Kuang with his fruit and hand-warmer.
But at least the wait hadn't been in vain. She adjusted her position, found an angle suitable for spying, and watched A’Kuang’s group without moving a muscle.
Only the time it took to drink half a cup of tea passed, yet it felt like an eternity.
Finally, a line of grey figures emerged from the tangled mess of trees. Aside from the faint, fine friction of sand and stone, they were as silent as a cloud drifting into the forest.
She shifted her eyes slightly, her gaze landing on the person in the lead.
It was a small, thin figure, not dressed in the style of the Southern Qiang. The robes were exquisite and luxurious but appeared excessively oversized. The figure walked very slowly, seemingly sizing up A’Kuang’s party.
A’Kuang’s reaction was one of utter reverence; his lowered back even betrayed an excess of humility and obedience.
A step away from A’Kuang, the figure finally stopped. After standing still for a moment, they slowly turned around.
When Xiao Nanhui saw the person’s face clearly, her pupils constricted violently, and she froze in place.
That face, still possessing a hint of youth, had matured significantly since a few months ago, yet a trace of feminine softness remained.
It was An Lü.
The descendant of the criminal An clan of Huozhou’s Muerhe. A few months ago, he had been abandoned in a deserted village house after his failure, yet now he appeared in this forbidden land thousands of miles away.
This was absolutely no coincidence.
“This must be Master A’Kuang?” An Lü’s voice was low. His back was to A’Kuang, and he seemed to have little interest in the man himself.
“It is indeed this lowly one. Hearing that Lord An was coming, I have been waiting here as you commanded. I only wonder what the matter is, and why we could not move to the stronghold to converse...”
“Did you alert anyone else?”
A’Kuang hesitated for a moment before quickly replying, “Of course not.”
An Lü gave a slight wave of his hand. The people behind him stepped forward to search A’Kuang and his men, their movements swift and practiced.
“You should know, this is a task ordered by Lord Yan. He said that previously, at the Sun estate, he saw a rather strange woman fleeing in this direction, and told me to come and take a look.”
Lord Yan?
The image of the man in purple flashed before her eyes, followed by the memory of his terrifyingly high level of martial arts.
She had been careless. At that time, she was seriously injured and desperate to escape Kesang’s pursuit; she must have revealed some of her martial foundations. Furthermore, she had been semi-conscious for the rest of the journey, and she didn't even know how Wu Xiaoliu had managed to carry her into the stronghold. A man capable of being a claw of the Bai clan would certainly be an expert at recognizing people; he had likely been suspicious for a long time.
She should be grateful there were so many strongholds in Bijiang, which was why it had taken them this long to find her.
“What Lord Yan spoke of... could it be the current chief of this stronghold, Pan Yao’er?” A’Kuang’s reaction was incredibly sharp, instantly grasping the heart of the matter.
An Lü’s interest was indeed piqued. “The current chief? What of the previous one?”
“Pan Mei’er went to the Sun estate to offer congratulations previously and, for some reason, failed to return. Looking at the timing, this stronghold changed hands right around then. This new chief even claims to be Pan Mei’er’s younger sister...”
A’Kuang was about to continue when An Lü interrupted him coldly.
“Where is she? Lead the way.”
***
The hundred grasses wither; the cold frost descends.
A thick layer of leaves had fallen among the low shrubs of Bijiang, mixing with the withered yellow pasture grass; in the deepest parts, it could swallow half a leg.
The sun slanted westward, and as the air lost its warmth, it grew heavy, and mist rose in the forest. A fast-moving figure cut a path through the fog, trailing a long plume of white vapor.
Xiao Nanhui sprinted through the dead leaves on her newly healed leg, not daring to stop for a second.
Though An Lü hadn't brought many people, they were all fully armed. Now that they knew something was amiss, their pace would certainly not be slow.
She knew A’Kuang was a local and wouldn't be any less familiar with the paths than she was. Fortunately, she hadn't wasted the past three months; she had trodden every hill and wasteland around the stronghold. The shortest and most direct routes were etched into her heart. By exerting every ounce of her strength, she might be able to gain the time it takes for a stick of incense to burn.
This was the first time she had ever played the deserter.
Facing them head-on, she wasn't without a chance of winning, but she couldn't afford to lose. Once her identity as an impostor was confirmed, escaping wouldn't be as lucky as the previous times. She couldn't fail here; it wasn't just her own life at stake—she would likely drag many others down with her.
An Lü’s face seemed to linger before her eyes. Was he a man of the Bai clan? Had his master summoned him to Bijiang? Who was his master? That Yan Zi?
In Huozhou, his goal had been the Secret Seal. If he was driven by the Bai clan, it did make sense.
But what was his connection to the organization called Puhuna? Were those assassins truly trained by the Bai clan? If so, why had Wu Xiaoliu crossed paths with them in his childhood?
One must remember that the Rebellion of Yu’an happened over a decade ago, while what Wu Xiaoliu spoke of was at least twenty years ago.
Xiao Nanhui felt as though she were caught in a tangled mess of hemp; the threads were tightening, making it hard to breathe.
Right now, there was only one thing she was certain of: she could not let An Lü see her face.
Though they had only briefly clashed in Huozhou, she didn't dare be the least bit negligent toward this youth. The hatred and distortion in his eyes when they parted were so piercing, enough to drive a mortal soul to the most extreme of deeds.
Bijiang... she likely couldn't stay here anymore.
This thought had been hovering in her mind since last night, but it had only just taken solid form.
Furthermore, she had a vague premonition that the matter regarding Puhuna might be the most important piece of intelligence from her journey west. However, the Night Owl wouldn't return for another three days. She had no time.
The sunlight struggled on the horizon.
A moment before the last ray of the setting sun vanished, Xiao Nanhui finally saw the silhouette of the stronghold.
“Wu Xiaoliu!”
Ignoring her lungs, which felt ready to burst, she shouted with the last of her strength.
There was no movement in the stronghold; not a soul was to be seen.
“Wu Xiaoliu! Wu Xiaoliu...”
She shouted twice more. Just as she was about to shout a fourth time, a round figure emerged trembling from beneath a stilted bamboo building, holding half a smoking fire-starter.
Xiao Nanhui breathed a long sigh of relief and pulled him over. “The people in the stronghold...”
Wu Xiaoliu swallowed hard in his nervousness. “They... they all scattered as you ordered. They left half an hour ago. I saw you hadn't returned...”
“Good, good, good.” She said it three times, then asked urgently, “What about Hao Bai and the one in the cell?”
Before her voice could fade, a stark white figure came struggling toward them from not far away. He seemed to want to run, but the limp man slung over his shoulder weighed him down so much he could barely move his legs.
“Here, here!”
She looked at his glaringly white robes, and the veins in her temples throbbed. She remembered she had hidden those clothes very deep, yet he had still managed to dig them out.
The last sliver of light in the sky vanished at that moment, and the surroundings fell into pitch darkness. There was a slight vibration in the air, coming from far to near, like the footsteps of a demon.
Xiao Nanhui took the fire-starter from Wu Xiaoliu’s hand and relit it. The light illuminated her features—exhausted but determined.
“Let’s leave this place.”
***
A’Kuang realized something was wrong when he led An Lü and the others to within a few miles of the stronghold.
There was a smell of smoke in the air, and the sky not far away was a purplish-red.
It was fire.
Dry grass mixed with sesame oil had been stuffed into every corner of the stronghold. When lit, it left no room for error, erupting into flames almost instantly.
“They’ve fled.”
In the bushes a hundred yards away, several grey figures were moving rapidly into the distance. Among them, a white dot was particularly conspicuous.
A’Kuang clearly saw it too. However, the path to pursue was blocked by the great fire. Circling around would take heaven-knows-how-long. He could only try to mend the situation by shouting to those around him, “Use the crossbows! Quick, use the crossbows!”
Ten heavy bolts whistled through the air, but the arrows were obstructed by the low shrubs they encountered; few reached the distance.
“Useless. Move aside.”
An Lü’s expression grew increasingly foul. He kicked aside a half-burned beam and, relying on his light frame, flipped himself up onto a half-collapsed earthen wall.
Xiao Nanhui heard the sound of whistling air behind her and felt thankful she had chosen this thorn-choked path. It was difficult to traverse, but at a critical moment, it could save a life.
The crossbow bolts flew for a while and then stopped. She couldn't control herself and glanced back.
That one glance revealed the youth standing on the wall.
He was still in those ill-fitting robes, his hands hanging at his sides, completely hidden by his sleeves like a stringed puppet.
In the next instant, he slowly raised his hands. Two thin, withered arms slid from his sleeves, dyed blood-red in the firelight.
Xiao Nanhui found his movements strange, but then she saw the branches and leaves between them being sliced apart as if by an invisible blade.
Amidst flying grass and debris, a gust of fierce wind reached her in an instant, leaving her no way to dodge.
Almost simultaneously, a great force struck her from the side. She slammed onto the ground, and when she scrambled up, she found Wu Xiaoliu lying where she had just stood. His entire shoulder was nearly shredded, and blood gushed instantly from the wound.
He looked up at her weakly, his mouth working.
“Wu... Wu Xiaoliu!” Her lips trembled as she pressed down on his wound. “Don't speak...”
“There’s something I have to say.” The fat man strained his squinted eyes, slowly wheezing out, “Meeting you... I’ve been so incredibly unlucky.”
Another gust of wind struck. The group ducked together, and a poplar tree behind them took the hit. The trunk let out a dull crack and slowly snapped, falling to the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust.
Taking advantage of this brief respite, Hao Bai scrambled up from the ground. With quick hands, he tore a piece of cloth and rapidly bound Wu Xiaoliu’s wound. “He won't die for the moment. But if we don't leave now, we’re all going to die together!”
Xiao Nanhui, however, was still immersed in shock, unable to snap out of it.
The ordeal she had just experienced surpassed her long-held understanding of martial techniques.
She knew An Lü’s skills; it was impossible for him to become such a master in such a short time.
Moreover, she clearly hadn't seen any weapon in his hands. How could he draw blood from someone a hundred yards away in an instant?
What was it? What exactly was it?
The youth on the wall, who had been standing with his head bowed in silence, slowly looked up. Xiao Nanhui’s gaze, which she hadn't yet had time to withdraw, met those sinister eyes across the soaring flames.
She saw a cold, temperatureless smile bloom on that face.
He had recognized her.
The soaring heatwaves swirled with the freezing air, and she shuddered.
In the next instant, Su Pingchuan’s hand clamped onto her wrist.
“Xiao Nanhui!”
The rough, warm hand brought her back to her senses instantly. She grabbed Wu Xiaoliu’s blood-soaked clothes and heaved him onto her shoulder.
The fallen poplar provided them with brief cover, but the cold wind would soon blow away the rising dust. It was a wind from the east.
She took one last look toward the stronghold and clenched her fist.
She was sincerely grateful for the resilience this land had bestowed upon her, a strength that ran through her blood and bone, but she did not belong here.
She hadn't belonged before, and she belonged even less now.
She was going to the side of the person she loved, even if that place was not the land of her birth.
Xiao Nanhui turned around, letting the soaring flames turn her back a brilliant red.
“Let’s go.”
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