Chapter 122: Yi Qian Defends the Border; The Maid Delivers a Food Box

Yi Rushi was startled. He turned his head and found himself transfixed. The young woman before him wore a verdant emerald-green dress of fine, mist-like silk, with a pleated skirt that seemed to scatter flowers like morning dew. Over this, she wore a translucent jade-green gauze cloak. Her dark hair was gently pinned up with butterfly tassels, revealing shoulders as if carved from marble and a waist of willow-like slender grace. Her face was delicate, with skin as smooth as congealed fat, and her brows were lightly penciled. Without a trace of heavy makeup, her complexion glowed with a pale, rosy translucence, as if it would drip water at the slightest touch.

The woman leaned languidly against the counter, her expression showing clear displeasure at Yi Rushi’s dazed stare.

"You are quite rude, sir; you are practically asking for a scolding." Her voice carried a hint of coquettish annoyance, jolting Yi Rushi back to his senses.

Yi Rushi’s face turned crimson. He apologized with deep sincerity, "Please forgive me, miss. It was my lack of manners. I was simply struck by your ethereal beauty and lost my composure for a moment."

The woman was not truly angry. Seeing his earnest apology, she smiled and teased him, "Looking at how dejected you appear, are you here to pawn these clothes of yours?"

Yi Rushi felt even more embarrassed; he hung his head and turned to leave.

"Master Yi, please stay," a weathered voice called out from behind him.

Yi Rushi turned and saw an old man with white hair and a white beard. The old man scolded the woman at the counter, "Have you no sense of propriety? Where are your manners?"

Seeing she was being reprimanded, the woman glared at Yi Rushi from behind the old man's back.

Yi Rushi quickly bowed to the elder, "May I ask, sir, what counsel you have for me?"

The old man chuckled, reached out to a shelf, pulled down a book, and handed it to Yi Rushi. "Since you are new here, you will surely find this useful."

Yi Rushi paused, hesitated, then took it. Looking down, he saw three characters written on the cover: *The Record of Autumnal Retribution*.

He flipped through a few pages, only to discover that the entire book was blank. Just as he was about to ask the old man, he looked up to find the shop empty. The elder had vanished, and the woman was no longer behind the counter.

Yi Rushi waited for a long time, but no one appeared. He had no choice but to tuck *The Record of Autumnal Retribution* into his robes and leave.

Jian'an Capital was still blanketed in falling snow, with nearly two feet already accumulated on the ground.

Yi Rushi’s three-room ancestral home had been unable to withstand the weight of the snow that had piled up on the roof for days; half of it had collapsed, leaving it clearly uninhabitable.

After much deliberation, Yi Rushi returned to the Jian'an Prefecture office. At the very least, his place of work could serve as a temporary shelter.

Returning to the secluded little courtyard at the Prefecture, Yi Rushi was relieved to find that the weeds had been cleared. Even the cobwebs and dust inside the room had been swept away. Aside from a slight musty scent, it was far better than his collapsed ancestral home.

Just as Yi Rushi finished arranging his bedding, the old bailiff walked in carrying a basin of warm water. It turned out that the old bailiff had been the one to clean the courtyard and the room.

As they worked together to wipe down the doors and windows, Yi Rushi asked during a break, "Why is it that no one goes to offer incense at the Sanqing Temple here in Jian'an?"

The old bailiff gave him a strange look for a long while before finally lowering his voice. "Master Yi, surely you are joking with me? There has never been a Sanqing Temple in our city of Jian'an."

In the fourth year of the Jian'an era, a lone wolf howled in the cold wilderness, and a blood-red moon rose over the vast desert.

In the boundless desert of the northwest, signal fires flickered like distant stars in every direction.

It was late winter, and the desert winds raged without restraint. As the heavy snow fell, blanketing the sky and earth, the soldiers’ eyes—already clouded by the haze of battle—grew increasingly dim, and the pace of the march slowed significantly.

Li Xi spurred his horse to the front of the formation. General Yi Qian was moving at a steady, unhurried pace. Even in the darkness, his armor gleamed with a deep, obsidian luster, whether polished by the abrasive desert winds or stained by the blood of too many Xiongnu warriors.

"General Yi, we have been marching for days, and tonight’s surprise attack was a great victory. Might we allow the men to rest for the night?" Li Xi asked, riding forward.

"Oh?" Yi Qian frowned. He looked back at the marching column. The soldiers of the Northern Liang army were weary; their hands could barely grip their bronze halberds and long spears, and the snow showed no sign of stopping.

The quivers of the archers were filled with snow, save for a few stray arrows. The iron armor they wore could deflect cold steel from a hundred paces, yet it offered no protection against this bone-chilling cold.

At midnight, the snow of the frontier remained piercingly bright in the darkness.

Yi Qian sighed, "Very well. Let the army make camp here. Send scouts to keep watch twenty miles out. Boil snow for porridge to warm the soldiers’ bodies. We resume the march as soon as the snow stops tomorrow."

"Understood, General," Li Xi replied. Soon, the camp was erected in the desert, and the soldiers lit fires to keep warm.

Yi Qian patted his mount, a chrysanthemum-dappled roan, which then came to a halt. Yi Qian dismounted, and a soldier stepped forward to lead the horse away for feeding.

The main command tent had been set up, but Yi Qian had no desire to rest inside. He walked a few paces and found an old tree stump, half-buried in the snow, beside a campfire. He sat down shakily and leaned back. The days of marching and bitter fighting had left him exhausted, but the thought of the approaching Lantern Festival—having been away leading troops for over half a year—made him miss a certain person all the more.

With this thought, Yi Qian pulled a delicate jade hairpin from his robes. By the firelight, he caressed the hairpin, then suddenly noticed his hands were still stained with blood. In a panic, he scrubbed his hands in the snow, and after verifying they were clean, he took out a white silk handkerchief to carefully wipe the hairpin.

As he bowed his head to polish the ornament, someone walked toward him directly from the tents. Before the person drew near, Yi Qian hurriedly hid the hairpin back in his robes.

"Stop hiding it. I saw it. When we return, I shall report to the authorities that General Yi covets the beauty of Princess Yangping, keeps her hairpin in secret, and harbors ulterior motives."

The man was Gongsun Ao, Yi Qian’s close friend. Yi Qian offered a self-deprecating smile. "Do stop mocking me, or I shall have you lead five hundred light cavalry to take the Xiongnu camp single-handedly."

Gongsun Ao gave an awkward chuckle and handed over a wine flask.

Yi Qian did not stand on ceremony; he took the flask and downed two mouthfuls. "Good wine. We have been on campaign for over half a year; how do you still have any left?"

Gongsun Ao snatched it back from Yi Qian and took a tiny, careful sip. "This is the last of it. It wasn't easy bringing it all the way from Jian'an to this frontier desert."

Yi Qian’s throat moved. "Indeed, it was not easy." As he spoke, he smoothed his matted hair. He could not remember how long it had been since he had last taken off his iron armor.

"We surely won't make it back for New Year's Eve, but in a few days, it will be the Lantern Festival. I fear we won't make it back to Jian'an to see the lanterns either." As he spoke, Gongsun Ao handed the remaining half-bottle to Yi Qian. Yi Qian took it without hesitation, though he did not drink immediately. "The lanterns of Jian'an are so beautiful."

"I think it’s the Princess of Jian'an who is beautiful," Gongsun Ao said with a wicked grin.

This time, Yi Qian did not argue; he took a long, deep drink of the wine.

Gongsun Ao grew anxious. "At least leave me the last drop!" Yi Qian ignored him entirely and returned the empty bottle. Gongsun Ao poured the final few drops into his mouth and then tucked the empty bottle into his robes as if it were a treasure.

Yi Qian asked curiously, "Why keep an empty bottle?" Gongsun Ao just chuckled and did not answer. Yi Qian did not press him further.

A drum sounded in the camp; clearly, the porridge was ready. After days of forced marches and cold rations, the soldiers were eager, and the air was filled with the aroma of rice. A sharp-eyed soldier spotted the two generals by the fire and brought over two bowls of porridge.

After finishing their meal, Yi Qian and Gongsun Ao returned to their respective tents to rest. Lying on his mat, Yi Qian thought of Princess Yangping, but also of someone else.

"Scholars are such stubborn creatures; I truly hope you do not hold a grudge against me," Yi Qian thought with a bitter smile, feeling a pang of sorrow as he recalled his deal with Tang Zeli.

The Jian'an capital, where the brothers Yi Qian and Yi Rushi lived, was the center of Northern Liang. Northern Liang was much like the Southern Yi of Yi Rushi’s past life; it had not achieved national unification. To the south lay the State of Chen, to the west the State of Yan, to the east the State of Liang, and to the north, the Xiongnu.

Nations were constantly at war with one another, and years of conflict made peace a rare commodity.

At the fourth watch, Yi Qian’s eyes snapped open. A scent of blood drifted from outside into the tent.

He rose, grabbed his blade, and threw open the tent flap. The camp was enveloped in a shroud of black mist; the moonlight was completely blotted out by darkness, and countless red eyes flickered in the gloom.

Yi Qian felt a chill in his heart and shouted, "Enemy attack! They are demon troops from the Northern Desert!"

The entire camp fell into a deathly silence. A mass of black mist slowly took shape before them.

Yi Qian only had to glance at the demon to know that they would not escape its clutches this night, for the creature was a Dream Tapir.

Twenty-ninth day of the twelfth lunar month, Jian'an Capital.

Yi Rushi woke up when the sun was already high in the sky.

Suddenly, there was a *knock-knock-knock* at the door. The sound was clearly not from the old bailiff, as the person outside knocked with extreme gentleness, as if afraid to damage the wooden door.

Yi Rushi threw on his clothes and opened the door with a yawn. The person outside let out a giggle at the sight of his slovenly appearance.

Yi Rushi was embarrassed to find two pretty young maids standing there—one holding a food box, the other clutching a cloth bundle.

Looking at them, he felt a sense of familiarity and frowned. "Who are you?"

Yale pouted in dissatisfaction. "Our eldest son-in-law is truly forgetful. We met just a few days ago."

Xiao Cui gave a cold snort and, pretending to be angry, shoved the food box into Yi Rushi’s hands.

Only then did Yi Rushi remember: these were the very same maids who had escorted the bride into the room on his wedding night.

Not understanding their purpose, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

Yale spoke quickly, "Naturally, the young mistress is worried about you, Master, and sent us to bring you some things."

Yi Rushi was about to shove the food box back, but Xiao Cui was quick-witted and tossed the cloth bundle into his arms as well, saying, "The mistress said that as long as you receive these items, it does not matter to her whether you lose them or keep them later. She will not blame us."

Yale also put on a pathetic look, staring at him with wide, pleading eyes. "You wouldn't just watch us get punished, would you, Master?"

The two maids were clever, and for a moment, Yi Rushi did not know what to do.