How many moments in a lifetime are truly moving enough to be etched into one’s soul, never to be forgotten?
Upon reflection, Xiao Nanhui felt there were not many.
She often hoped these moments would be beautiful and profound. Yet, contrary to her wishes, the things people remembered for a lifetime were often the embarrassing, the painful, or the tragic.
Thus, she placed her hopes in the passing years, trusting that time would eventually wear away the edges of love, hate, and obsession, rendering her small emotions insignificant, even ethereal.
However, she was still so young. Some things, once they happened, were carved so deeply that they could only be removed by breaking bone and severing tendon.
It was said that a top-tier martial artist often possessed only one weapon in their lifetime. Their soul would seep into the sharp steel; every movement, every breath would be linked and bound to it until the person died or the metal rusted and snapped.
Xiao Nanhui had once fantasized about owning a weapon that would belong to her forever. That was until a mundane dusk in her fourteenth year, when Xiao Zhun brought Pingxian to her.
The moment she took it, the weight, the temperature, and the hard texture of the steel were stamped into the depths of her memory like an engraved inscription. Years later, it had merged with her, as familiar as a part of her own body.
"This spear is named Pingxian. It weighs twenty-one catties and four taels, and measures one zhang, one chi, and two cun. It is forged from fine iron, decorated with gold and silver inlay, and contains an internal mechanism."
As he spoke, his fingers brushed over the patterns on the shaft. The spear, less than three feet long, instantly extended, transforming from a short staff into a lethal weapon.
The silver light reflected in Xiao Nanhui’s eyes, and a corner of her heart lit up with it.
"In this world, the husband is the zither, and the wife the string. This spear is meant for a woman’s use. The name Pingxian is a metaphor, a declaration to the world that a woman may also take to the battlefield, equal and peerless to any man. It is also my hope for you."
He solemnly placed Pingxian into her upturned palms, as if he were handing over not a weapon of bronze and iron, but a scepter of gold and jade.
"I bestow this spear upon you. I hope that from this day forward, you will be upright and true, knowing when to yield and when to strike, just like this spear."
She gripped the shaft tightly for a long time, her voice trembling with irrepressible excitement.
"Xiao Nanhui thanks her foster father!"
For a long while, Xiao Zhun did not respond. Xiao Nanhui looked up apprehensively, only to find him watching her with a complex expression.
"In the future, whether you are galloping across battlefields or wandering the martial world, you must not lightly reveal the name of your weapon."
Thinking she was unskilled and unworthy of using Pingxian, she stood up with a hint of urgency. "If Foster Father feels I will disgrace it, Nanhui can set it aside for now, until my spear techniques have improved..."
"This spear was entrusted to me by an old friend. He did not wish for others to know of it. It has nothing to do with you."
"So that’s how it is. Rest assured, Foster Father, I will never mention this to anyone in the future."
Her youthful face relaxed at his few words, carrying the sharp edge of a martial artist but even more of a natural, heartfelt sincerity. Hardness and softness, sharpness and bluntness, had always coexisted within her without the slightest discord.
Xiao Zhun composed himself and turned away, hands behind his back.
"From today, you have completed your apprenticeship. Pingxian is your graduation gift. I have nothing left to teach you."
She found this sudden "graduation" hard to believe. "But Foster Father has only taught me one set of spear techniques..."
"Spear techniques value mastery over breadth. The Xiao family spear style consists of only nineteen moves in total."
She held up ten youthful fingers, silently counting each move. Finally, she looked up. "But I have only learned eighteen. There is still one more."
Xiao Zhun said nothing. Suddenly, he snatched up a wax-wood, red-tasseled training spear from the side and lunged at her. The attack was fierce and powerful. She hurriedly engaged him, the sharp tip of Pingxian turning into a flurry of silver stars in her hands, filling her with exhilaration.
However, Xiao Nanhui’s techniques had all been taught by the man before her, and her physical strength and agility were no match for his. She was soon defeated.
Her defense was shattered. Pingxian vibrated violently in her hand, instantly spinning out of her control and clattering to the ground.
Xiao Zhun had taught her spear techniques for several years, and the very first lesson had been how to grip the weapon. Yet now, she hadn't even lasted a single move before her weapon was disarmed. Beyond the shock, she felt an unbearable sense of shame.
"Nanhui is unskilled. I ask for Foster Father’s punishment."
Xiao Zhun was not surprised by her reaction, and his expression gradually softened.
"You are indeed some time away from the highest realm, but just now, it would have been the same for anyone else."
His consolation did not make her feel any lighter. Instead, a stubborn streak of defiance rose within her. "What is that move called? Why have I never seen it?"
"This move is called the Severing Strike." Xiao Zhun deftly retracted his spear. "I only used half my strength, and the spear in your hand is no ordinary weapon. Otherwise..."
"Otherwise, what would have happened?"
"Otherwise, the spear in your hand would have snapped under this move."
She stared unblinkingly at the straight shaft of the spear. Her previous frustration vanished, replaced by excitement and longing. All she could think about was how she would use this powerful move to beat that brat Xu Shu until he was begging for mercy.
"Foster Father, please teach me quickly. I want to learn this move."
"Everything I have learned in my life, I have already taught you. Only this final move cannot be passed on right now."
"Why?" She could not hide her disappointment, her voice full of confusion.
"Because this is a rule left by my masters." Xiao Zhun pulled her closer, his gaze level with hers, yet the light in his eyes commanded a fearful respect. "If one day, the person who inherits this spear style does something unworthy of the Xiao family name, then this final move shall be used to destroy the weapon in their hand, ensuring they can never use it for evil again."
At that time, she had been so young and anxious. Hearing those words, she had knelt fearfully on the ground, performing the formal kowtow of a disciple to a master.
"Foster Father took me in, gave me a place of shelter, and taught me martial arts to protect myself. Nanhui could not repay this kindness even with ten thousand deaths. I would never dare to act recklessly. If one day Nanhui does anything to betray Foster Father or the Xiao family, may I be struck by lightning and die a miserable death..."
She had spoken those oaths with desperate resolve, as if the more vicious and absolute her words, the more he would believe her sincerity.
The end of that day at the martial grounds was a bit blurry in her memory. It seemed Xiao Zhun had said many words to comfort her, or perhaps he had said nothing at all and simply called for Dujuan to accompany her.
But she remembered that after that day, she had nightmares for months on end. In her dreams, she saw Xiao Zhun’s stern face. He rebuked her for doing what she shouldn't have done, told her he was utterly disappointed, and, before her very eyes, snapped Pingxian in two.
A primal fear had been buried in the heart of her younger self.
The fear of making a mistake, the fear of losing everything she possessed, and the fear that one day Xiao Zhun would stand on the opposite side of her, severing the last shred of warmth between them.
But she never imagined that the scene from her childhood nightmares would actually play out before her eyes years later.
The night was silent. Within the withered forest of diversiform-leaved poplars, the tents of the Northern Su Army were filled with moving shadows, yet not a single lamp was lit.
The Northern Su Army had been ordered to strike deep into the heart of Bijiang to eliminate the remnants of the Bai clan, but they had yet to capture Bai Heliu himself. During this time, the Bai clan had launched frequent night raids, forcing the main camp to relocate repeatedly. A temporary rule had been established in the army: after nightfall, no open flames or lights were permitted anywhere except inside the tents, to prevent leaking their position.
Now, after several operations involving luring the enemy, annihilation, and relocation, the Northern Su camp had finally settled here temporarily for three days.
The Great General had left the camp two days ago with ten thousand elite troops and had only returned today, followed by several hundred light cavalry from the Guangyao Battalion.
Unexpectedly, a few hours later, the Emperor’s carriage had also arrived at the camp under the cover of night. The Northern Su camp was now a place where dragons and tigers crouched, a land of fire and deep water; everyone had to summon every ounce of their spirit to cope.
Cavalrymen returning to camp moved to and fro. Though no one spoke, the air was filled with the sound of hurried footsteps.
Xiao Nanhui had been crouching outside Xiao Zhun’s tent for a full hour. During that time, she had peeked through a gap in the felt curtain, only to find that Xiao Zhun had at some point hung a screen taller than a man inside. She could only see the faint glow of candlelight through it, and nothing else.
The army physicians had entered and exited three or four times, and soldiers delivering military reports had come by a few times as well, but Xiao Zhun still hadn't emerged from the tent.
Her stomach began to growl. Sighing, Xiao Nanhui stood up to stretch her stiff limbs. Just as she was about to leave to find some food, the felt curtain of the main tent was lifted without warning.
She looked blankly at Xiao Zhun’s bloodshot eyes, rubbing her hands awkwardly. "Um... I was just passing by and thought I’d come check..."
Ugh, what a terrible opening.
They hadn't seen each other for months, and the first thing she said upon reuniting was that she was "passing by."
"She just woke up. Come in."
Xiao Zhun sighed and didn't look at her again, turning back into the tent. She hesitated for a moment before following him inside.
The main tent was dark, with only a small lamp glowing behind the screen. Xiao Zhun pulled the screen aside, revealing a low couch. A woman lay upon it, her long hair disheveled, wearing only her inner robes. Her left hand was wrapped in gauze, which was still seeping blood.
Wait, isn't this the one from earlier today...?
Xiao Nanhui couldn't wrap her head around it, standing there like a fool.
Now that the dirt had been wiped from her face, she realized just how beautiful this person was. Small, delicate features were set into a soft, rounded face. She seemed made of jade bones and water flesh—fair, fragile, and cold.
For no reason, Xiao Nanhui looked down at her own hands, calloused from years of gripping a spear. A sudden heat rushed to her face, and she didn't even know why.
"Nanhui."
Xiao Zhun was calling her. She quickly looked up.
"Nanhui, I have a favor to ask of you."
"Please speak, Foster Father."
Xiao Zhun’s gaze flickered briefly toward the woman before returning to her. He let out a sigh so faint it was almost inaudible. He rarely sighed; Xiao Nanhui had almost never seen him do so.
But just now, he had sighed twice.
"Her identity is special. From now on, you are to guard her without leaving her side until someone comes to relieve you."
She nodded quickly. "Understood."
Xiao Zhun handed her a bowl of steaming medicinal soup from the side. "This was just brewed. Make sure she drinks it while it's hot. Not a single drop is to be left."
She took the bowl, but her eyes immediately caught sight of several distinct bite marks on the back of Xiao Zhun’s hand and wrist. She snapped her gaze toward the woman on the bed, her eyes flashing with uncontrollable ferocity.
The woman on the bed, however, held only indifference in her eyes. Her gaze seemed unfocused, as if she couldn't see anyone in the tent at all.
After several consecutive major battles and the overnight march into Bijiang, Xiao Zhun’s face was written with exhaustion. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, that deep furrow appearing once more. "His Majesty returned to camp after nightfall. I have yet to report the events of the day. If there is an emergency, send someone to fetch me."
Xiao Nanhui didn't speak, her eyes fixed on the marks on Xiao Zhun’s hand as if she had forgotten to blink.
Seeing no response for a long time, he opened his eyes and asked, "What is it? Is there something else?"
*Who is the person on the bed?*
*Do you know her?*
*Why are you so good to her?*
Xiao Nanhui’s eyelashes fluttered slightly. In the end, she looked away and shook her head gently. "It’s nothing."
Xiao Zhun was exhausted to the limit. Without another word, he turned and left the tent.
The moment the thick felt curtain dropped, she slammed the medicine bowl onto the table. The bowl let out a loud *clack*, startling the beauty on the bed who had been unresponsive until then.
"I have a bad temper. Are you going to drink this yourself, or do I have to help you?"
Another silence filled the tent. A moment later, a cold female voice spoke.
"I won't drink it."
Xiao Nanhui didn't say a word. She picked up the medicine bowl and marched aggressively toward the couch.
Seeing her fierce expression, the woman trembled slightly, but she still had her pride. She remained silent, stubbornly lowering her head.
Hardening her heart, Xiao Nanhui moved as fast as lightning, grabbing the woman’s jaw and forcing her mouth open with a squeeze.
The woman cried out in pain, whimpering and struggling desperately with both hands.
Xiao Nanhui used her legs to pin the woman’s arms down, while her other hand raised the medicine bowl, intent on pouring the medicine down her throat no matter what.
Just as the bowl touched the woman’s lips, she felt a warmth on her hand.
Looking up, she saw that the woman was indeed crying.
Those somewhat proud eyes were filled with tears. Her eyelashes trembled as she fought not to blink, fearing that the moment she did, the large teardrops would fall uncontrollably.
Xiao Nanhui was the type who could be persuaded by kindness but never by force; since childhood, she could never stand to see someone cry. Especially a girl. She had never been around delicate young ladies; Borao and Dujuan were not ones to shed tears easily, and even Aunt Dai rarely indulged in melancholy. Encountering one now truly left her at a loss.
She felt a surge of irritation. "What are you crying for? It’s just medicine, not your life."
The woman bit her lip, suppressing her emotions for a moment before speaking in a raspy voice. "It’s only a matter of time. If you’re going to torture me and kill me anyway, what’s the point of drinking medicine now?"
Xiao Nanhui laughed out of sheer anger, her voice rising. "Torture you? Kill you? If he wanted to harm you, would he have saved you? Would he have blocked my spear? Would he have put you in his own tent and forbidden anyone else from even looking at you?"
The woman ignored her anger, instead staring at her intently. After a moment, she spoke. "You don't know who I am, do you?"
Xiao Nanhui gave a disdainful huff. *I don't care if you're the Heavenly Emperor himself,* she thought.
"My surname is Bai."
Xiao Nanhui’s heart gave a sudden thud.
"My surname is Bai. My name is Bai Yun. My father’s name is Bai Heliu."
The bowl in Xiao Nanhui’s hand nearly shattered. The medicine spilled out, drenching her hand.
In the third month of the thirty-ninth year of the Suiyuan era of Tiancheng, the Emperor took the imperial consorts, civil and military officials, and the young elites of the nobility to Yu'an, north of the capital, for the routine spring hunt, to personally review the new Yueze Army and inspect their armaments.
Midway through the night hunt, the former Censor-in-Chief Bai Heliu secretly stole the military tally and raised a rebellion. He was thwarted by the defense of the Black Feather United Camp. His eldest son, Bai Chong, and second son, Bai Hun, led the rebel forces and slaughtered over a thousand soldiers of the Northern Su garrison. The entire household of Prince Shuo, Xiao Qing, was annihilated. The Bai clan then fled to Bijiang, taking one hundred thousand men of the newly formed Yueze Army with them. History remembers this as—the Yu'an Rebellion.
***
Glossary
