“Your Majesty, tomorrow, please dispatch 2,000 soldiers to accompany me and welcome my people across the border.”
“Welcome them?”
“Yes.”
“From the hands of King Qing Yun?”
“Yes.”
“If you surrender, I will not hesitate to declare war,” Na Zhan said sternly.
Huang Bei Shuang laughed at his words. “If that were not the case, I wouldn’t have stayed here,” she sighed, watching as Na Zhan left. She reached up to touch her earlobe, which still ached. The wound remained.
The wine sobers, but the heart is drunk…
The wine cools, yet the spirit grows weary…
The wine fades, and with it comes exhaustion…
Do you know? Do you know?
Three thousand tears of the parted, love that never follows…
Do you know? Do you know?
The vegetables in the fields were still covered in the cold dew of dusk. As evening fell, the wooden houses at the edge of the farm gradually lit up with the dim glow of orange lamps. A few weary figures moved behind the papered windows. For the farmers, winter survival depended on hard work—generations had passed down these fields, their most valuable inheritance. If they remembered the toil of their ancestors, they would continue this life of diligence and effort. For them, a single piece of land was as precious as an entire country.
The next day, Huang Bei Shuang dressed in a red wedding gown. Golden embroidery adorned the sleeves and hem of the skirt, and snowy phoenix flowers lined the collar, shimmering faintly. The gown was tailored with precision, the tightly cinched waist accentuating her graceful curves. Beneath the translucent red veil, her skin gleamed like flowing water, complemented by a smoky crystal jade pendant, making her beauty appear ethereal and captivating.
Lastly, Ye Pei placed a red coronet on her head, its front adorned with a string of glistening gemstones.
“Let’s go,” Huang Bei Shuang said after gazing at her reflection for a long while. Her three maids opened the doors to the palace chamber, and outside, eight guards stood solemnly in armor. As she stepped out, they cleared the way for her.
In the parade grounds outside Guang Han Palace, 2,000 elite soldiers stood ready, fully armed. Huang Bei Shuang led her group through the six inner courtyards, unfazed by the numerous astonished and bewildered stares directed at her. The palace had never seen her more stunning than today. She stepped onto the command platform, and as soon as Lian Huan saw her, he shouted, “Two thousand soldiers, divide into two lines! Sound the drums!”
The deafening drumbeats grew louder and faster as the 2,000 soldiers marched out of the city with Huang Bei Shuang. Tens of thousands of onlookers gazed in awe, their collective sighs rising like the sea.
North of the snowy plains, south of Guhe, stood the Northern King, Huo Qing Yun. Dressed in black, with dragons embroidered on his robe, he led an army of 10,000, standing tall atop a sand dune. As the sight of a red figure approaching drew nearer, his gaze darkened.
She made him angry. Her easy surrender, and when Mang Liu's men intercepted the 3,000 cavalry sent by Na Zhan, he had learned why she chose not to leave Na Zhan. Indeed, it was something Tiandu could not offer. That only deepened his frustration. Yet when he received her letter, containing only the words, “Meet me, as before,” he couldn't help but smile. Wrapped around his right wrist was the icy jade bracelet they had once shared, and no matter what, he could not stop thinking of her.
When Huang Bei Shuang's group arrived on the opposite sand dune, the 2,000 soldiers at her back did not shame her dignity. She smiled softly, just as before, as though nothing had changed. Dressed in red, she reminded him of that day at Ten Waters when she wore a wedding dress, and he, a black battle robe.
“Have you come to take me away?” Her voice remained as clear as ever.
Huo Qing Yun couldn’t help but smile. With a swift movement, he spurred his white horse forward and, in front of all the gathered troops, pulled Huang Bei Shuang up to ride with him.
General Liao Zhen, who commanded the 10,000 soldiers behind Qing Yun, was astounded. He had never seen anyone else ride the King’s white horse. Who was this woman?
Huang Bei Shuang leaned into his arms, her eyes misty with unshed tears. Qing Yun noticed and, glancing down, asked, “Why are you crying?” He reached up to wipe away her tears, but at that moment, Lian Huan nocked an arrow and shot at Qing Yun, aiming to miss but intending to force him off the horse. Qing Yun dodged the arrow, landing on the ground. With a wave of his hand, Liao Zhen’s soldiers readied their bows, arrows poised to fly.
“Stop!” Huang Bei Shuang suddenly urged her horse a hundred paces away from Qing Yun. “Lower your arrows!” she commanded Liao Zhen’s troops.
Qing Yun, supporting himself on his sword, looked at her in confusion.
Huang Bei Shuang gritted her teeth and, pulling out a gleaming white dagger, pressed it against the forehead of the white horse. “Release my Ernaqi people and Na Zhan’s soldiers, or I will kill Fei Ta!” (Fei Ta is the name of the white horse.) The blade gleamed menacingly, ready to strike. Strangely, the horse, sensing her mercy from before, remained still, unlike its usual spirited nature. Gently stroking its mane, Huang Bei Shuang whispered, “I’m sorry, my dear horse,” and then raised her gaze to meet Qing Yun’s.
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