A group of people wandered the streets of the Capital City, tasting street food, exploring endlessly. They visited several shops, purchasing silk, tea leaves, porcelain, and sugar. Everything seemed new and fascinating to them. Dugu Jing particularly doted on the young person beside him—his twin sister, the Sixth Princess—buying whatever caught her fancy.
The Forbidden Army member next to Lin Cheng remarked, "The Beiman people seem to be here to stock up supplies in the Capital City."
Lin Cheng’s face remained cold. The Crown Prince had sent him to monitor the Beiman people, though he couldn’t discern the true motive behind it. This group was neither showing weakness nor revealing a clear agenda, wandering endlessly—was this truly a supply trip?
He was still hoping for the cabinet’s approval of the first clause in the Beiman peace negotiation.
Recently, whether it was him, Vice Minister Lin, or Marquis Zhenbei’s political rivals, they had all been subtly guiding the discussion toward one topic: the Beiman were willing to trade ten years of peace for Xie Jue’s life.
The life of the Second Young Master was precious, but ten years of peace held greater importance.
Xie Xun fiercely protected his brother, refusing to compromise. The noble families and the cabinet needed to decide swiftly—if they angered the Beiman and broke the peace talks, the losses could be immeasurable. Meanwhile, Xie Jue faced peril. Lin Cheng thought it would be a shame not to take advantage of the situation, considering how much he had suffered as a youth.
During today’s negotiation meeting, as the envoys from both sides convened, the Beiman added another condition: ten years of peace and the red sandstone mine, in exchange for Xie Jue’s life. The ministers finally saw it clearly—the Beiman were adamant about claiming Xie Jue’s life.
What exactly did Xie Jue do during his time in Beiman that provoked such unrelenting hatred? Not even Xie Zhang, who had assassinated the Beiman King, seemed to rank higher on their list of grudges.
"Ten years of peace, red sandstone mines—all part of Yanyang’s negotiation terms," Xie Xun mocked the Beiman. "As a trade, Yanyang can offer you equivalent amounts of gold and silver."
It was well-known that Beiman held abundant gold and silver mines, and their value compared to Yanyang’s iron mines made them cheap and unremarkable commodities. Dugu Jing almost punched Xie Xun but was stopped by Slate, the military advisor.
The arguments grew so heated; days of negotiating with the cabinet, peace talks, and keeping tabs on Xie Jue of the Eastern Palace had drained their spirits. Perhaps exhausted, someone leaned their cheek on their hand, amidst the chaos of the negotiation hall, and promptly fell asleep in front of the Beiman delegates.
Sunlight dappled through, shadows of trees swaying gently. The Second Young Master lay against the spring breeze, bathed in the gentle light of the sun. Glimmers of light danced on his strikingly handsome and serene face, making him resemble a carefree youth enjoying a spring outing in March, utterly at ease.
The Beiman people were furious, storming out while cursing loudly.
The man you desperately want dead is within arm’s reach, slumbering openly before your eyes, and all you can do is rage helplessly.
Xie Xun clicked his tongue in amusement. "Second Brother doesn’t even need to speak; he already cuts to the heart."
After leaving the negotiation hall, Dugu Jing did not return to the embassy. Instead, he indulged in a hearty meal at Wangjiang Restaurant before launching into a shopping spree. Their attire, readily distinguishable as Beiman-style clothing, made them conspicuous—many merchants prayed the Beiman wouldn’t patronize their stores.
While Dugu Jing was shopping in a silk shop, he unexpectedly encountered Fengyu emerging from the rear courtyard. His gaze turned venomous. "It’s you?"
Fengyu hadn’t expected Dugu Jing to be selecting fabrics at her shop. She was accompanied by Qiuxiang, Chunlu, and Zhang Da, inspecting new goods arriving from Jiangnan while also picking out silk fabrics she liked. Whenever Jiangnan delivered new products, Fengyu liked to personally select her items.
Her gaze differed from that of the shopkeepers, who believed that luxurious and elegant fabrics might not necessarily align with her preferences. Fengyu was accustomed to reserving the finest goods for herself or her family.
After inspecting and choosing over a dozen bolts of silk, Fengyu left satisfied. Upon seeing Dugu Jing, she intended to leave and avoid trouble, but Dugu Jing blocked her path.
Zhang Da stepped forward, sword in hand, shielding Fengyu. "Ninth Prince, please mind your manners!"
That night, when capturing Fengyu, Dugu Jing had no idea he had made a mistake. Xie Zhang and Feng Shu had always been carefree, openly flaunting their affection. Dugu Jing, while strolling in the Capital City, had stumbled upon them.
Feng Shu was taller and appeared healthier compared to Fengyu’s delicate and fragile demeanor. It was only later that he realized he had captured the wrong person. "Do all Yanyang people look alike?"
Physique and temperament were distinctly different, yet their faces seemed remarkably similar—which led him to wonder if all Yanyang women had identical appearances.
"What is your relationship with Xie Xun?" Dugu Jing interrogated.
"Who is Xie Xun?" Fengyu asked lightly to those beside her. "Any of you know him?"
"Not at all!" Qiuxiang replied crisply.
Everyone else was speechless.
A youthful, arrogant Dugu Jing, proud and vengeful, held grudges deeply. The wound inflicted upon him during that fateful night had nearly taken his life. He traversed thousands of miles to the border, his injury festering and worsening until he almost succumbed to it along the way.
On that night, she was in a sorry state. Now, she had transformed into radiant beauty, exuding opulence—to the point of being unrecognizable. Even if the faces of Yanyang women were similar, he would identify Fengyu’s voice anywhere.
It was her. She was the one who had stabbed him.
"If you don’t know him, this will be simple!" Dugu Jing’s curved blade slid out, its icy gleam chilling.
Zhang Da’s longsword followed suit, its sharp edge ready for confrontation.
"Do you Beiman people only know how to shout and kill?" Fengyu’s gaze fell on Dugu Jing’s blade. "If you shed blood in the streets during peace negotiations and ignite public outrage, what’s the point of talking peace?"
Dugu Hongying grabbed Dugu Jing’s hand gently, signaling him to calm down.
Slate counseled, "Prince, calm down. She’s merely a Yanyang woman, not worth the bother."
"What’s your name?" Dugu Jing sheathed his blade and softened his expression slightly.
Fengyu looked toward Lin Cheng in the distance—Dugu Jing only needed to ask him to learn her identity. Since she had enmity with the Lin Family, Lin Cheng wouldn’t shield her.
Fengyu announced her name clearly, "Fengyu."
Dugu Jing ground his teeth. "What is Feng Shu to you?"
Dugu Jing mused inwardly—no wonder she resembled Feng Shu. They were sisters. "You have a stubborn life; even death hasn’t claimed you."
"Mutual feelings," Fengyu chuckled lightly. "Evildoers live long—the King Yan hasn’t taken you either."
Enraged, Dugu Jing roared, "Such audacious insolence! How dare you provoke me!"
Before his words finished, Dugu Jing lunged toward Fengyu. Confused, Fengyu wondered how she had provoked him. Zhang Da raised his fists to block, but the clash left his arm paralyzed in pain.
Chunlu dragged Fengyu out of the shop as Dugu Jing pursued them. Several Forbidden Army members prepared to intervene, but Lin Cheng asked nonchalantly, "What’s the commotion?"
The Forbidden Army replied anxiously, "Commander, Dugu Jing is causing trouble in the Capital City. We must stop him. If someone gets hurt, it could be difficult to handle."
"No one will die. Leave it be." Lin Cheng responded emotionlessly.
If Fengyu, frail and delicate, received a kick from Dugu Jing, it might very well cost her half her life. Why bother stopping them? Just as Dugu Jing was about to seize Fengyu—
An arrow pierced through the wind, aimed directly at Dugu Jing.
Dugu Jing flipped mid-air to dodge. The arrow grazed his waist and abdomen before burying itself in the wooden board behind him. A white horse, adorned in red, raced forth—a bow drawn, an arrow ready. The rider wore a crimson official robe fluttering dramatically, followed by Nuanyang and a dozen Kyoto Capital Guards at his side.
"You again!" Dugu Jing fumed. The last time they had been in the outskirts, Xie Xun’s arrow had disrupted their attempt to capture Fengyu, ruining his plans.