“What does your silence mean?” Qing Yun’s voice grew cold as he leaned against a pavilion post, holding his sword. He had not received the enthusiastic response he had expected.
“I’m not leaving,” Huang Bei Shuang said with difficulty.
“What?” Qing Yun’s tone darkened with anger.
“I won’t say it again,” she replied. She couldn’t say it a second time because the first time had already been heard, loud and clear.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked, staring at her.
“I just found out,” she answered.
“Then why won’t you leave?” Qing Yun asked.
“If I leave Na Zhan, he’ll send troops to attack the Enaci,” she thought for a moment before replying.
Qing Yun’s lips curled into a sneer. “Ridiculous. The northern desert is mine, and no matter how powerful Yunpei is, they wouldn’t dare challenge me. Besides…” He paused briefly before continuing, “He’s already too late. Guhe has already surrendered to Tiandu. In this situation, sending troops across the desert just to attack a tribe of 7,000 slaves—impossible.”
Huang Bei Shuang was shocked but finally said, “Even with your protection, the Enaci won’t have peace. I can’t leave.”
Qing Yun's face turned cold, his pride not allowing her to reject him again and again. “Swear to me that your only reason for not leaving is this,” he demanded, his gaze fixed firmly on hers. But her eyes held no trace of fear or hesitation. “I swear,” she said.
Just three words, and they brought an hour-long silence. “You've hurt me,” Qing Yun finally said, standing up. He looked at this woman who now refused to meet his gaze. “You've hurt me! I thought our feelings for each other were simple and direct, but I was wrong. Is this what women are like? They give only gentleness, and all they get in return is being treated like something disposable.”
He said no more after that. Instead, he pulled her forcefully into his arms, making her look at him. “Look at me. Don’t think you can forget this face, Huang Bei Shuang. I’ve never withheld my tenderness from you, but if force is what it takes to win you over, I won’t hesitate.” His words were final, and with a swift movement, he grasped her face in his large hands, his thumb and forefinger pinching the pearl earrings he had placed on her earlier. With a small twist, she gasped in pain, her earlobe now dripping blood, the silver pearl gleaming in the moonlight, tinged with dark red.
Qing Yun kissed her again, though this time with a reluctance to let go. He held her tightly and murmured, “Last time, I let you go. This time, I won’t.” Qing Yun was slightly frustrated—matters of the heart had never been a concern for him. Even when they first met, he had not intended to simply take her away. First, he didn’t want to alert Na Zhan prematurely, and second, perhaps at that time, his desire for her wasn’t as intense as it was now. Now, he longed for a woman who could stand beside him.
That night, the moon over Huai Yue Pavilion hid behind the clouds. In the dim four-cornered pavilion, neither of them spoke again. They simply remained locked in a tense silence until one had to leave, and the other had to stay behind.
A month passed after that. Everything was calm; nothing happened. Tiandu did not send troops, and in fact, it was impossible. Yunpei, the largest nation in the desert, held forty-two large oases arranged like interlocking fish scales, each spaced no more than ten miles apart. With 170,000 soldiers stationed across three key fortresses, the nation's defenses were impenetrable.
Na Zhan kept his word, sending 3,000 soldiers to the northern desert to escort the Enaci tribe to safety. Seventeen days had passed, and still, there was no news.
In Guang Han Palace, the sound of the flute could often be heard, but whenever someone approached, it would abruptly cease. The thin figure playing the flute always lingered in the courtyard, sometimes laughing, sometimes crying, watching the row of growing Jie Ma trees.
This day was the same as usual, yet not entirely so.
Na Zhan stood by the window of Huang Bei Shuang’s bedchamber, a hesitant expression on his face as he said, “Tiandu has detained the soldiers I sent and all of your people. They've written, demanding that you personally come to negotiate.”
Huang Bei Shuang, crouched beside one of the Jie Ma trees, smiled calmly. “Your Majesty, this is a direct challenge to you. Why haven't you retaliated yet?”
Na Zhan sighed in frustration. “If you can find a way to retrieve your people, I will honor my promise.”
This was a complicated matter. Tiandu was too far away, and between them lay the vassal state of Guhe. To ask Yunpei to intervene in the conflicts of the northern desert was out of the question. Na Zhan would not deploy his troops unless absolutely necessary. From the start, she knew it would come to this.
Huang Bei Shuang said nothing more, only glanced down at the piece of paper that had been thrown into her room earlier by a shadowy figure. The handwriting was messy, scrawled in four rows: Tiandu withholds grain, fourteen tribes of Tongzhou are starving, Enaci alone are isolated, 400 dead from starvation in nine days.
Qing Yun, you are too ruthless.
She plucked a tender yellow leaf from the Jie Ma tree, her gaze growing cold.
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