Chao Ning was like a migratory bird—every winter without fail, he’d fly to Tan Kingdom to visit his good friends.
If possible, he’d rather go in April—to catch Jiang Nong’s birthday and celebrate with her.
Sometimes he even wished the three of them could live in the same kingdom, so they could see each other anytime. He had friends in Dang, but Jiang Nong and Yu Lingxin were different.
Jiang Nong always sent him things. Naturally, he’d bring gifts for her and Yu Lingxin each time—this time, a whole cart full, a mix of valuable and trivial things.
But the heavens were unpredictable, and fortune ever changing.
He’d barely reached Tan’s border when he was ambushed. Fortunately, a squad of Imperial Guards—sent by Yu Lingxin—rushed out to meet him, and he narrowly escaped.
The commanding officer was Wei Xiao. Though Chao Ning didn’t know him, he figured anyone close to Yu Lingxin was no villain.
Wei Xiao told Chao Ning to go ahead while they held off the pursuers. The assassins fought even more fiercely—likely afraid their plan would be exposed and witnesses left alive.
Envoys were always civil officials—a gesture of goodwill, states avoided sending martial officers carrying too much killing intent, let alone large escort forces. After all, the five kingdoms had once been one, descended from the same ancestors. A New Year’s visit was a joyful affair—everyone gathered warmly and harmoniously.
This was Chao Ning’s first encounter with assassins. He had no choice but to lead the envoys toward Tan territory. Halfway, they were ambushed again. He could at least defend himself—so he stepped forward, covered the retreat with his guards, and led the assassins into the dense forest.
Of all the envoys, he was the most valuable. Given the assassins’ movements, it was clear who the target was. If it came to the worst, better he die alone than drag everyone else down with him.
Night deepened. The forest was a frozen wasteland. He ran desperately toward the distant lights, his ears filled only with the howling wind, crunching footsteps, and his own ragged breathing.
The cold wind stung his face like needles. Cursing inwardly, he ran on, clutching his face—until his feet slipped near the foot of the mountain and he tumbled into darkness. His last thought before losing consciousness: Please, not face-first.
He wasn’t dead—that was his first thought upon waking.
His face hurt a little. Don’t let it be scarred—that was his second thought.
He propped himself up on the bed. The room was simple, but the layout suggested at least a young lady’s chamber in a modestly wealthy household. His heart raced—finally, a damsel-rescuing-hero scenario!
Before he could think further, he heard hushed voices outside, and a girl’s sobs.
“Lian’er knows she’s a burden to Aunt, and dares not hope for much. But marriage—how can I be betrothed to such a household for a little silver? That young master bullies men and women alike. Wouldn’t I be walking to my death?”
“This is not for you to decide. I’m just delivering the lady’s message.”
The old maidservant left. The door creaked open, and a young woman in a pale pink skirt entered, tears glistening. She dabbed her eyes, her cheeks flushed pink, her rouge slightly smudged—pitifully lovely. Seeing Chao Ning awake, she looked startled, then shyly asked: “Is there anything you need, sir?”
By lamplight, Chao Ning was dazzled: “No,” he said, then dazed, asked, “What were you talking about outside?”
She hesitated. Only after his repeated urging did she reveal her background.
Her name was Yuan Lian. Her father had inherited only a hollow barony—two modest estates in the countryside. The family had fallen on hard times. Her mother, a merchant’s daughter, had been sent to a country estate after her maternal grandfather died—her father claiming she’d borne no son—and replaced by her own cousin, who brought along a son and daughter.
Now the household was even more run-down. Her stepmother—her aunt—planned to marry her off to a local wealthy bully.
At this, Yuan Lian broke down in tears.
Chao Ning understood at once: the family’s impoverished father had married her mother for her fortune. Secretly, he’d already impregnated the cousin—waiting only for the grandfather’s death to seize the assets and take over.
He fumed: “How could such a thing exist? You can’t marry him.”
Yuan Lian sobbed weakly against his shoulder: “But who can speak for me? That family has power and influence. My father at least has a title, so he’s still someone—and my mother is in their hands. Unless a noble helps me and arranges a good match, I have no way out.”
Suddenly realizing her impropriety, she stood, covered her face with a handkerchief, and wept—tears falling like pearls: “Sir, you’re kind—but please don’t speak up for me. If you get dragged in, it would be my fault. Once you’re healed, go home—and please be quiet these days. Don’t let anyone discover you.”
Chao Ning couldn’t stand by. And helping her was trivial for him.
He started to pat her shoulder reassuringly, but remembered she wasn’t Jiang Nong, and withdrew his hand: “I’ll make this right for you. Stop crying.”
Yuan Lian was silent for a long while. She finally dried her tears, tucked the blanket around him, and fed him some water—her movements gentle, a faint scent of soap berries lingering near Chao Ning’s nose.
“Rest now, sir. I’ll go make some more soap berries to sell—so I can send grain and meat to my mother for the New Year.”
Chao Ning watched her graceful retreating figure, his face suddenly flushed. He buried himself under the blanket.
Yuan Lian sat back at her dressing table and, through the dim, blurry bronze mirror, caught a glimpse of his reddened face.
She had three rules for whom she’d rescue: not ugly, not old, and not someone who couldn’t help her escape the Yuan family with her mother.
Fate had been kind! From his clothes and ornaments, he was at least the son of a marquis or duke. All her practice at crying—perfecting the most alluring, pitiful way to shed tears—hadn’t been wasted.
Wei Xiao finished off the assassins, sent word to Fengye, and traced Chao Ning’s whereabouts to regroup with him. The envoys from Dang had already reached Fengye and reported the ambush in full.
At least he was safe.
The Guesthouse hosted a reception to calm and welcome the envoys.
Chao Ning was recovering in Wen County—it would be a few more days before he arrived.
Though Yu Lingxin’s men had arrived in time to save Chao Ning, Jiang Nong still harbored suspicions. He couldn’t have foreseen the attack—so what was his real purpose in sending them? Was it to protect Chao Ning?
Her every move, every subtle shift in emotion, didn’t escape Yu Lingxin’s notice. He knew she was doubting him.
He’d never hated Chao Ning more. Every time something happened to Chao Ning—whether he’d done it or not—she’d blame him.
Looking into her eyes, he sneered: “Yes, I sent the Imperial Guard. Seeing him upset me, so I sent them to cause him trouble—hoping he’d go back to Dang. Or would I be foolish enough to use my own men to assassinate him on my own turf? Pick whichever you believe.”
Chao Ning had traveled through Song to reach Tan. The only kingdoms bordering Tan’s southern territory were Song and Jin. The most likely culprits for an assassination at Tan’s border were those two. If Chao Ning died in Tan, they’d have a pretext to join forces with Dang and march against Tan.
Chao Ning was his father’s beloved son. No way he’d just let his son die abroad.
But Yu Lingxin had little credit with Jiang Nong. She knew well his cunning.
It wasn’t impossible that Yu Lingxin was crying wolf—pinning it on the other two kingdoms to justify a joint campaign with Dang.
Compared to his past life, Yu Lingxin had changed—but only a little.
The moment Yu Lingxin saw her thinking, he knew what was on her mind. Veins stood out on the back of his hand. Worse—he couldn’t defend himself, because it was something he might have done. But he hadn’t done it.
Even the most rational man, facing such silent suspicion from Jiang Nong, couldn’t stay calm.
He’d thought she liked him a little. Trusted him a little. But when it came to Chao Ning, he meant nothing.
He laughed—coldly, as if driven mad: “If that’s what you think, there’s nothing I can do.”
Yes, he’d guessed that Chao Ning—such an obvious target—would draw someone’s blade. Even putting aside the outwardly calm but tumultuous succession struggle in Dang, that was enough to give Chao Ning trouble. Chao Ning couldn’t die in Tan—at least not yet.
The Imperial Guard he sent was partly for protection, and partly—as he’d said—to cause trouble and send him packing.
Jiang Nong said: “Oh—I was just thinking. I didn’t say anything.”
Whether he’d intended to cause Chao Ning trouble and accidentally saved him, or had staged the whole thing himself—given Tan’s current situation, he couldn’t let Chao Ning die here. The risk was too great.
Yu Lingxin was ruthless—but not stupid.
She thought she was calming him down, but that indifferent tone only provoked him further. How could she just brush it off with a word?
Was she trying to drive him mad?
Yu Lingxin stormed off in a cold fury. Jiang Nong thought he’d go cool off in the snow again. A while later, he returned—chilled to the bone—and tossed a bronze token onto her lap.
She picked it up—it was a broken half of a bronze tally. The whole piece had been his, able to command all troops in and around Fengye, including his own Langzhong Guard.
He was proving himself this way: if she didn’t trust him, she could watch him.
He’d entrusted half of his closest guards to her.
Yu Lingxin said fiercely: “Then watch—see exactly when I’ll strike at Chao Ning. Your ex-husband. Your lover. Your sweetheart. The one you’re always thinking about.”
Even half the token was heavy in her hand. Jiang Nong turned it over a few times, didn’t refuse it, and beckoned him: “Come here—I’ll tell you who’s on my mind right now.”
Yu Lingxin wouldn’t move—just sat across from her. She had to lean over, hook her arm around his neck, pull him close, and press a light kiss to his cheek. Then she braced his shoulders and pushed him away.
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