After He Qingfu said this, the two spoke no more.
Jiang Chixi left the palace with her bundle and boarded the waiting carriage outside.
Everything had been arranged, so the journey was smooth and unimpeded.
It would take two days to reach the border. Along the way, little Jiang Yan transformed twice inside the tightly covered carriage—each time when He Qingfu was eating.
Her intentions were all too clear.
He Qingfu found it amusing and pushed the box of pastries toward her. “Eat slowly.”
The little girl sat up straight, still a bit reserved.
“I’m not hungry.”
“They’re really delicious,” He Qingfu described the texture, “they melt in your mouth, leave a lingering fragrance, and are especially crisp—one bite and the crumbs just fall everywhere.”
The little girl couldn’t help leaning forward and immediately grabbed one.
After a bite, she started chewing much faster.
Soon, she reached for a second.
Once she started, she couldn’t stop. After eating half the box, she let out a satisfied burp and pushed the rest back.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
He Qingfu shook her head. “I don’t really like these. Should I save the rest for you?”
The little girl refused.
She pointed at some pastries with cilantro leaves stuck on top, making a face of disgust.
He Qingfu couldn’t help but laugh.
This was a new recipe from a pastry shop in the capital—some pastries had minced cilantro for flavor. People who liked cilantro really loved it, like Jiang Chixi, who would often have the maids buy a box.
But little Jiang Yan couldn’t stand it at all.
She lifted a corner of the curtain, spat coldly out the window, then turned back into a little red string and slipped into He Qingfu’s collar.
He Qingfu had already eaten a bit, so now she picked up the pastries the girl disliked, drank some water, and slowly ate them.
After a moment, little Jiang Yan’s voice reached her ear.
“Do you have to eat things that don’t taste good?”
He Qingfu was startled.
She suddenly remembered what she’d said before—that she didn’t particularly like cilantro, could take it or leave it.
So she answered seriously, “Why eat things that don’t taste good?”
“If you don’t like something, just don’t eat it. Throwing it away isn’t shameful.”
“Mother just thinks cilantro is okay, so I eat it. Otherwise, I’d throw it away just like you.”
Little Jiang Yan replied, “Just like I like eating raw bitter melon, but Father Consort doesn’t.”
He Qingfu was taken aback.
“?”
She doubted her ears. “—Raw bitter melon??”
Little Jiang Yan nodded. “Mm. Once, when you brought vegetables, there was a weird one in the middle. Father Consort said it was bitter melon and wanted to throw it away, but I took a bite and thought it was fine.”
He Qingfu: “…”
She hesitated, “Not many people like bitter melon, and even fewer like it raw…”
The little girl’s voice lifted, “I’m very special.”
“Yes, you’re very special.” He Qingfu laughed.
After that, He Qingfu asked, “How come you never mentioned it before? If I’d known, I’d have brought you more.”
“Because you were busy.”
“You only came once a week then, so I forgot to tell you.”
He Qingfu was silent for a few seconds.
The little girl went on, “Just remember to get it for me next time. I don’t really crave it.”
But as soon as she finished, she seemed to realize something and fell silent.
The carriage grew quiet.
A few minutes later, He Qingfu put away the pastry box, raised her hand, signaling the little red string to jump onto her palm, then pulled open the curtain and stretched her hand outside.
The night sky outside was dazzling.
It was winter, and the night wind was cold. There was some snow on the road, but it wasn’t snowing now. The sky was clear, and the stars were so bright they filled the entire sky—stunningly beautiful.
The little red string curled around He Qingfu’s pinky, looking up.
After a long time, He Qingfu, worried she’d get cold, quickly drew her arm back when no one was looking.
The girl transformed right in front of her.
She sat on the seat, swinging her legs. “I wonder if Father Consort saw these stars the day he left.”
“I know Taotao didn’t see them the day he died.”
“The sky was ugly that day.”
*
Two days on the road—slow or fast, depending on how you looked at it.
For Jiang Chixi, it was slow, because she worried about the border and her dearest friend. For He Qingfu, it was too fast—time alone with little Jiang Yan was so precious, it seemed to vanish in a blink.
The borderlands were high, the wind cold and strong.
But being closer to the sky, the sunlight was even more dazzling, so bright you couldn’t open your eyes.
With Gu Zhaojun’s cover, Jiang Chixi reached her destination and slipped quietly into Yao Shian’s tent late at night. Recently, the deputy general had been leading the troops, and Yao Shian had claimed to be resting for two days, so her condition was still tightly concealed.
When Jiang Chixi entered, a seventy-year-old military doctor was taking Yao Shian’s pulse.
Gu Zhaojun hurried over and asked softly how things were.
The old doctor shook his head.
Gu Zhaojun closed her eyes. “How many days left?”
“Not many. At most, until tomorrow morning. The general can barely hear people now.”
After speaking, he looked past Gu Zhaojun. At this moment, Jiang Chixi removed her cloak, revealing her true face.
This doctor’s whole family was in the capital, loyal for generations. Jiang Chixi knew he wouldn’t talk, and besides, he couldn’t be fooled about Yao Shian’s condition or the fact that Jiang Chixi would take her place on the battlefield.
After all, he was the one who knew Yao Shian’s illness best.
The old doctor stared for a few seconds, then, unable to believe his eyes, rubbed them. Once sure he wasn’t seeing things, he hurried to bow, but Jiang Chixi stopped him. “No need.”
“Shian is what matters most now.”
“Let her go without pain if possible.”
The old doctor nodded quickly, turned back to care for Yao Shian, and began removing the silver needles from her arm.
Yao Shian’s exposed skin was covered in silver needles. She was much thinner, her face sickly, looking nothing like the person in Jiang Chixi’s memories.
Jiang Chixi stepped forward and sat on the chair by the bed. Gu Zhaojun stood behind her.
“Doctor Chen said the general wouldn’t last past the other day, but I told her you’d come. So she forced herself to have more acupuncture, trying to hold on until you arrived.”
Jiang Chixi nodded. “She must be suffering now.”
The old doctor agreed.
Jiang Chixi said, “Don’t drag it out. Let her go.”
The old doctor removed the life-sustaining needles one by one. When only a few remained, Yao Shian’s eyelashes suddenly trembled. A few minutes later, she slowly opened her eyes, a rare clarity in her gaze.
Gu Zhaojun covered her mouth in distress, choking back a sob, quickly turning away to hide her expression.
Everyone knew what this meant.
A final burst of clarity before death.
Yao Shian’s eyes blinked slowly, then she turned them and saw Jiang Chixi beside her.
Before she could speak, Jiang Chixi said, “I’m here.”
She took Yao Shian’s struggling right hand.
Yao Shian’s mouth opened several times before she managed half a sentence: “You, an emperor…”
Jiang Chixi smiled. “You still remember I’m the emperor.”
“Back when we fought, who was it that kicked my leg so hard it hurt for days?”
Yao Shian’s face showed nostalgia. “You hit me back. My father… he scolded me for being ungrateful, made me apologize.”
“Right, and you just held your head high and refused.”
Jiang Chixi said, “That’s when I thought you were all right.”
“It’s been thirty years now.”
Yao Shian breathed rapidly, then forced a smile and nodded. “Thirty years.”
The old doctor’s skills were precise—his diagnosis came true.
Yao Shian did not live to see the next morning.
There was a kind of kingfisher in the borderlands, extremely cold-resistant, with a clear, lovely call. The soldiers used to joke about bringing one home for their children, so it would sing every day.
That morning, as the kingfisher sang its first note to the dawn, Yao Shian’s pale hand slipped from Jiang Chixi’s grasp.
Her last words were for Gu Zhaojun.
“Follow the deputy general and do your best.”
“After I’m gone, she’ll need you most.”
The general guarding Jiang’s border was about to be replaced, but the strategist was still young, with many years ahead to fulfill her ambitions. For years, two names had always been spoken together at the border.
Now, it would be someone else.
That morning, Chu Hanzhi sent word, giving detailed intel on Xiao’s military supplies and asking what Jiang would do. After burning the letter, Gu Zhaojun replied.
Then she summoned her men and executed the exposed Xiao spy on the spot.
Back in the tent, she shared her analysis with Jiang Chixi:
“He really did expose himself on purpose. He knew we wanted him to pass false information, but he didn’t send anything. Xiao’s plan was to use the chaos for an inside-outside pincer.”
“It’s better to kill him—it’ll boost morale.”
Jiang Chixi nodded, donning her armor as she replied, “Since I’ve given you full authority, do as you see fit. No need to report to me.”
“Everyone has their specialty. I don’t know this as well as you.”
Gu Zhaojun continued, “I suspect Chu Hanzhi has been compromised. She’s never asked about Jiang’s battle plans, and per your instructions, I’ve never replied to her letters.”
“But just now, I did reply.”
“I already have a battle plan, but it will require sacrificing some people. Jiang is now balanced between life and death. Only by entering the dead end can we find life.”
She had already discussed this with Jiang Chixi in her letters.
And Jiang Chixi had come for this very purpose—to enter the dead end.
She asked Gu Zhaojun, “Have you chosen the soldiers to follow me into the trap?”
Gu Zhaojun was silent for a moment.
She looked at this noble empress of Jiang, wanting to confirm one last time: “Your Majesty truly intends to risk yourself? And in Shian’s name?”
Jiang Chixi met her gaze calmly.
“Of course.”
“All the soldiers here have families. Someone must lead by example. It can’t be you, or the deputy general, or me.”
“Only Shian can.”
“I want her to be that person.”
Once Jiang Chixi’s intentions were clear, Gu Zhaojun asked no more. She laid out the battle plan, marking two small paths on the campaign map. One led straight into the valley, two hours away, with two units of Jiang soldiers guarding the rear—tonight, the enemy would likely attack there.
To save those two units, Jiang would have to charge into the valley and fight the enemy hidden above, blocking their arrows from the heights.
This was the dead end.
The other path should have been a dead end too, but only on the surface. Gu Zhaojun had spent half a year clearing it. The giant boulders blocking it were only intimidating; their bases had been hollowed out. At her signal, they could be moved aside in moments.
Jiang’s soldiers could then circle around to the mountaintop, reach the enemy’s rear, and complete a true encirclement.
Jiang Chixi trusted Gu Zhaojun’s judgment.
At noon, after lunch in the tent, she cut her hair short to match Yao Shian’s, then donned armor and left the camp.
The heavy armor concealed her features, revealing only a pair of sharp eyes. Gu Zhaojun summoned the squad leaders to lay out the plan for the night.
After hearing it, everyone was silent.
Marching to certain death was never easy, even for those always prepared to die in battle.
But when Gu Zhaojun said Yao Shian would lead the team, everyone’s expressions changed.
They all stood and tried to dissuade her, but it was no use.
After a long silence, a burly, honest-looking man suddenly slapped his hand on the table:
“I’ll follow the general!”
A tall woman immediately stood as well. “Who’s afraid? Only cowards!”
“I’ll go get my affairs in order. General, I’ll go with you!”
Jiang Chixi said nothing, looking to Gu Zhaojun.
Gu Zhaojun explained for her: “The general is still sick and can’t speak, but she feels your loyalty. Don’t let emotions cloud your judgment.”
Because they trusted Gu Zhaojun completely, no one suspected Yao Shian had been replaced.
Everyone gathered and quickly settled their arrangements, then returned to their tents to sign up for the night’s mission to the valley.
The slots were quickly filled.
Everyone’s eyes shone with the light of Jiang’s future.
Evening came quickly. Just as Gu Zhaojun predicted, a signal came from behind the valley—Jiang had been attacked. Everyone knew this march was full of danger, and the enemy knew they knew.
But their comrades were trapped in the valley—they had to save them, and the enemy knew they would.
Jiang Chixi waved her flag, mounted her horse, and led her troops to the valley.
The three-thousand-man force was split in two. Two thousand entered the valley first, speeding up as soon as they were inside, while Jiang Chixi led a thousand a kilometer behind. Each horse dragged stones and straw, creating a thunderous noise and clouds of snow, making it impossible to see clearly. From afar, it looked like a much larger force.
This was also Gu Zhaojun’s plan.
She had observed the stars and knew there would be heavy snow tonight. Now, as thick flakes fell, the enemy above the valley couldn’t see clearly, judging only by the sound.
If they shot at the first group, the second wouldn’t enter.
To prevent this, and to inflict maximum damage on Jiang, the enemy commander would likely let the first group pass, then shoot the second.
But in fact, the first group was the rescue team.
Everything went as Gu Zhaojun predicted. As the first soldiers rushed forward, the second group, to buy time for those circling around and to confuse the enemy, tightened their reins and charged toward the valley.
At this moment, Jiang Chixi suddenly felt a warmth on her chest.
Little Jiang Yan appeared before her.
She sat on horseback, facing her, hugging her waist tightly.
Her small face pressed against the cold armor.
He Qingfu immediately took control.
Now she was no longer afraid of the girl being seen by the soldiers around her.
Because this group would all die tonight.
Even if they knew about the little girl, they’d have no chance to tell, and it wouldn’t disturb their reincarnation or affect their next life.
Thinking this, He Qingfu looked down and said softly, “Say hello to them.”
The little girl turned her face slightly from He Qingfu’s chest and looked at the people ahead.
The wind and snow were too fierce—she couldn’t see them clearly.
They couldn’t see her either.
But this was truly her first time living so vividly among humans.
“All right,” she whispered.
“Hello, everyone.”
“This is really a stupid thing to do, but you all seem smart and stupid at the same time. It’s really strange.”
Hearing this, He Qingfu suddenly felt her eyes sting. She touched the dagger hidden at her chest, hesitated for a long time, but finally took it out.
She threw it into the snow.
Then kissed the little girl on the top of her head. “Let’s have a race.”
“Turn back into a red string, float into the wind, and help me pick it up.”
Jiang Chixi would die ten minutes from now, and her consciousness would disappear with her.
So—
“If you can find me in ten minutes, you win.”