The night’s chill seeped into her bones, the cold moonlight drenching her heart.
Her days of flight had passed in a blur. She had thought the moon hanging above the tent would be a crescent, but to her surprise, it was nearly full.
Xiao Nanhui stared blankly, maintaining her position of gazing at the sky without moving a muscle.
She was in a dark, unlit tent. Her surroundings were deathly silent, save for a sliver of moonlight filtering through the gap between two felt panels overhead.
She wanted to maintain her usual professional rigor even in such an environment, but once her long-taut nerves relaxed, drowsiness clung to her like Du Juan’s slender, delicate fingers, refusing to let go.
She drifted off for a while. When she opened her eyes again, the moon happened to be directly overhead.
In the darkness, it felt as though only that moon remained in the world.
Everything that had transpired over the past few months receded into the silence. She felt she ought to summarize what she had seen and heard in Bijiang, but her thoughts drifted uncontrollably into a void.
Lu Songping’s punch must have broken something in her head; that was surely why she couldn't focus.
The wound on her thigh had been properly tended to. There was no flamboyant bow this time; the person who had bandaged her possessed a cold, efficient technique, leaving not a single loose thread behind.
Everything was so concise it was boring. Until someone came for her, she felt there was nothing left to do but sleep.
Xiao Nanhui rolled over, wrapping the fluffy blanket beneath her around her body.
The blanket was incredibly warm and felt silky to the touch. She hadn't known such smooth sheepskin existed in this world.
*Snap.*
A moment later, following the sharp strike of flint, a small flame flickered to life behind her.
The hair on the back of Xiao Nanhui’s neck stood on end.
Someone had lit a fire less than ten paces behind her, yet she hadn't heard a single footstep or even the sound of breathing.
Then came the sound of a felt curtain being lifted. A gust of cold wind rushed in, accompanied by a light, shallow cough.
Xiao Nanhui scrambled up from the low couch, performing a sharp flip to land on one knee. The wound on her thigh made her stumble, but she adjusted her balance in time to avoid making a fool of herself.
The cold wind brought in the air from outside the tent, carrying a crisp, bitter scent.
She was prepared to perform a grand salute and shout "Long live the Emperor," but as her eyes adjusted to the sudden light and she saw the two figures standing at the entrance of the tent, she froze.
The man who had just entered didn't spare her a single glance. He was unfastening his heavy fur cloak with measured movements. The string of sarira beads on his wrist slid up and down, accentuating the lean, straight line of his wrist bone. The silver fox fur cloak was heavy, yet it could not hide the thin, upright stature beneath. Clad in moon-white snow-satin embroidered with intricate patterns, that body was topped by a familiar, indifferent face.
Behind him, Ding Weixiang stood expressionless, using the candle he had just lit to ignite the torches within the tent.
Xiao Nanhui’s tongue tied itself in knots. "You... you... why are you here?"
Before her words could even hit the ground, Ding Weixiang’s eyes widened. He let out a thunderous roar, "Presumptuous! How dare you speak so insolently before His Majesty!"
Simultaneously, the soldiers guarding the tent rushed in, their blades unsheathed and pointed at Xiao Nanhui in an instant.
She was utterly dazed, feeling as if ten thousand Ding Weixiangs were screaming at her at once.
His Majesty? Which Majesty?
The Emperor of Tiancheng? The same Emperor who had made her wait an hour while he bathed?
The man’s gaze still didn't shift toward her for even a second. He walked straight past her frozen body and sat down on the "soft couch."
Now that there was light in the tent, she realized the silky blanket wasn't sheepskin at all, but a pelt of black mink fur. The soft couch wasn't a couch either, but an exceptionally wide meditation chair. The square frame of the chair was carved with intricate, winding lotus vines—the exact same pattern she had seen on the gates of the Taihe Hot Spring Garden.
Xiao Nanhui swallowed hard.
She had just "ravaged" the Emperor’s seat and used his cushion as a blanket...
"Weixiang, has this prisoner perhaps scrambled her brains in the fall? What a pity. I thought there might be some important intelligence. Drag her out and behead her."
That familiar face opened its mouth to speak, but the voice wasn't the clear tone of "Zhongli Jing." It was low and slightly raspy, identical to the voice she had heard on that "bathing day."
Her arms were seized from both sides. As the soldiers prepared to drag her out, Xiao Nanhui finally snapped out of her shock.
"Wait! Wait a moment!" She finally found her voice, though she didn't know what to call him.
Zhongli Jing was the Emperor? How could he be the Emperor? That wasn't right—she had been with him in Huozhou the entire time, and she’d never heard anything about the Emperor leaving the capital.
However, Ding Weixiang had no intention of giving her time to think. He barked at the soldiers, "What are you waiting for? Drag her out this instant!"
"I... I have something to say..."
Xiao Nanhui struggled violently. Another soldier stepped forward and pressed down on her back.
They certainly thought highly of her; four grown men were practically "uprooting" her, dragging her toward the tent exit like a stubborn radish.
"Wait."
The monarch on the throne spoke suddenly, and the soldiers froze. The man who had been sitting on the mink-covered meditation chair stood up, carrying a candlestick as he walked a few steps toward her.
"I was a bit far just now, but now I see clearly."
Tears nearly welled up in Xiao Nanhui’s eyes.
*Your Majesty, it was by your golden word that your servant went to infiltrate the enemy. Have you finally remembered?*
"Is this not the female bandit from the bounty posters in Suyan City a few days ago?"
The Emperor’s voice drifted over leisurely, and the tears in Xiao Nanhui’s eyes froze right there.
Hearing this, Ding Weixiang stepped forward and made a show of examining Xiao Nanhui’s face by the candlelight. He raised an eyebrow as if he truly had never seen her before. "Now that Your Majesty mentions it, it does seem to be her."
He turned to the soldiers and commanded sternly, "You lot, go to the prisoner camp and fetch a torturer. We need someone skilled in interrogating female convicts. Go, quickly!"
"Mm." The Emperor gave a noncommittal hum, then added indifferently, "The prisoner camp is quite far, and it is late. The camp curfew has likely been set. Wait until tomorrow to find help. Leave this to Weixiang; the rest of you are dismissed."
The soldiers looked at each other, bowed their heads in obedience, and tactfully withdrew from the tent.
Silence fell over the interior. A fine silk handkerchief landed on her face, covering her eyes.
"To face the Sage with such a disheveled appearance—where is your decorum?"
Xiao Nanhui sniffled, only then realizing that in her panic and grievance, tears and snot had been flowing freely.
She wasn't someone who cried easily. She hadn't shed a single tear even when she was severely injured before. She didn't know what was wrong with her now; perhaps after enduring so many hardships, the realization that her days of living in constant fear were finally over triggered an involuntary breakdown.
She wiped her face a few times. As her emotions gradually settled, a sudden sense of embarrassment washed over her.
The awkwardness of the situation made her feel entirely out of place. Realizing she hadn't officially paid her respects, she quickly prostrated herself on the ground.
"Your servant, Xiao Nanhui, greets Your Majesty."
After about five or six breaths, the voice spoke again.
"You have worked hard and achieved much. How can you lie prostrate in the dust? Rise."
The voice and tone of the person before her were entirely different from Zhongli Jing’s. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and she didn't dare lower her guard. Just as she was about to stand, she saw the man lean toward the meditation chair.
The Emperor extended two fingers, leisurely plucking a long strand of hair from the glossy black fur. He opened his hand, letting the hair drift down before Xiao Nanhui’s eyes.
"My chair... was it comfortable to sleep on?"
Xiao Nanhui shuddered. Her body, which had just straightened up, hit the floor again with a *thud*.
"In response to Your Majesty... your servant did not know... did not know..."
*I didn't know you were the Emperor! If I had known, would I have gone through all that trouble? Why didn't you say so earlier?!* Because of him, she had exhausted herself planning in Huozhou, thinking the Imperial Seal was about to fall into someone else's hands.
Wait. If he was the Emperor, then who was holding down the palace during the Huozhou trip? Did her foster father know about this? If he didn't, would her knowing the truth bring trouble upon him?
Xiao Nanhui’s mind was a whirlwind of speculation, her expression shifting rapidly, though she was entirely unaware of it.
Ding Weixiang, watching from the side, couldn't take it anymore and let out a sharp cough.
The person on the ground jolted back to her senses. "Your servant... your servant has come this time to report urgent matters."
The Emperor shifted his posture and gave a lazy wave of his hand. Ding Weixiang vanished from the tent. A moment later, even the footsteps of the sentries changing shifts outside could no longer be heard.
Xiao Nanhui took the hint. Without stopping for breath, she recounted everything that had happened to Su Pingchuan in detail, then combined it with what she had seen in Bijiang to analyze the current situation. She had intended to report the matter of Puhuna and An Lü as well, but she felt the story was too bizarre. Speaking of it now might seem like she was chasing shadows, so she kept it to herself for the time being.
Throughout her report, she stole glances at the man’s face from time to time, but she couldn't find a single trace of emotion.
Nearly an hour passed. When everything that needed to be said was finished, the air fell into an involuntary silence.
The Emperor sat there with his eyes half-closed, not a single fold in his clothing moving. After a long while, he slowly uttered three words.
"So that is it."
*So that is it? That’s all?*
Xiao Nanhui found it somewhat unbelievable and felt a brief pang of regret for the saliva she had wasted.
"Your Majesty, your servant believes this matter is of grave importance..."
"You have traveled ten thousand miles, weathered the wind and dust, and truly worked hard. Go now and rest."
She was unaccustomed to such an abrupt end to the conversation. As she hesitated for a moment, that lethal voice drifted over again.
"What? Do you intend to sleep on Our couch?"
Terrifying.
Simply too terrifying.
Xiao Nanhui beat a hasty retreat, practically stumbling as she fled the tent.
***
