The dark red Jaguar sports car stopped outside Guichen Studio.
The engine quietly shut off, and the car rested silently in the darkness, like a beast that had finally grown tired from running.
When Su Muchen pushed open the car door, the night wind, carrying the familiar damp scent of the stone pavement in Changning Alley, rushed toward him.
He stood at the entrance of Guichen Studio, rubbed his stiff shoulders from sitting in the car for so long, then turned back to glance at the driver’s seat.
Xiao had not turned off the engine. He merely leaned against the seat and put on the thin-framed glasses he usually wore again.
With a black hair tie held between his lips, he raised a hand to tie his long hair back. At that moment, a string of new messages appeared floating before his eyes through the lenses.
He swiped his hand, opening the message.
Then he gave a soft laugh, as though he had seen something interesting.
“Mu’an.” His voice came from inside the car. “Did you forget something before you left today?”
Su Muchen froze for a moment and turned to look at Guichen Studio.
The doors and windows were tightly closed, but the lights on the first floor were on.
Warm yellow light seeped through the gaps in the curtains, particularly noticeable in the heavy darkness of Changning Alley.
He remembered turning off the lights before he left.
He definitely had turned them off…
Right?
When Su Muchen pushed open the door, the copper bell rang softly.
The shop’s lights fell upon the familiar places. The counter, the shelves, the old calligraphy and paintings hanging on the walls—everything was the same as usual.
But there was someone sitting in front of the counter.
The man had his back to the door, and his dark outer robe looked especially still and solemn beneath the dim yellow light.
A teacup sat beside his hand. The rim was dry, without a trace of water, as though it had never been touched.
Several documents were spread across the table. The pages were flat, and there were no signs that the corners had been turned.
He had maintained that posture for who knew how long.
Su Muchen stood at the doorway, his footsteps coming to a halt.
He suddenly remembered that before leaving, he had turned off all the lights in the shop, taken the keys with him, and put his phone on silent.
He had thought of everything.
Except leaving a note to tell Xiao Yuan that he had gone out.
But judging by the situation now, it was already too late.
Xiao Yuan heard the copper bell ring and turned around.
His gaze first landed on Su Muchen’s face, then swept over his clothes—
Completely different from usual, his coat and shoes were much more formal, far more proper than the old shirts he commonly wore in Guichen Studio.
Then his gaze passed over Su Muchen’s shoulder and landed on the dark red car that had not yet driven away outside the door, as well as Xiao, who was walking over—
Xiao was dressed differently from usual as well.
That glance was very brief, so brief that it seemed as though he was merely confirming something.
Then he withdrew his gaze.
“You weren’t here. I thought something had happened.”
Xiao Yuan’s tone was very calm, without any reproach.
Yet when those words reached Su Muchen’s ears, they carried something heavier than reproach.
It was not blame.
It was worry.
The worry of not knowing what had happened, not knowing where to go to find them.
Su Muchen opened his mouth, about to explain.
But Xiao’s voice had already come from the doorway.
“Sorry, Your Highness. Something came up unexpectedly.”
Xiao leaned against the doorframe, his coat draped over his arm. He looked as though he had once again become that lazy shop assistant from Guichen Studio.
“My family summoned me urgently. It happened so suddenly that I didn’t have time to leave a message.”
Xiao Yuan raised his head and looked at him.
“What matter was so urgent?”
The corners of Xiao’s lips curved slightly.
The smile was very faint, lingering at the corners of his lips for only a moment before quickly disappearing.
He glanced at Su Muchen, as though confirming something, then turned toward Xiao Yuan, his tone as casual as if he were talking about the weather.
“It concerns the continuation of the Su family’s direct bloodline.”
Xiao Yuan’s gaze moved away from Xiao and landed on Su Muchen’s face, lingering there for a moment, as though examining whether this information was genuine.
Su Muchen’s expression was slightly awkward, as though he were standing somewhere he had no business standing.
“You’re getting married?”
“Yes.”
Xiao had already walked into the shop. He casually hung his coat over the edge of the counter and answered for Su Muchen in a relaxed tone.
“The Su family’s direct bloodline now only has Mu’an left. If he doesn’t find someone soon, the bloodline will end with our generation. The family is extremely anxious about it. They listed twelve candidates all at once, ranging from daughters of prestigious families to celebrities in the entertainment industry. It’s a major family matter. It can’t be delayed.”
Su Muchen stood to the side, feeling the tips of his ears growing hot.
He remembered those strangers surrounding the long table that afternoon, discussing his life with a slideshow, as though they were discussing an asset that needed to be arranged.
The image was both absurd and infuriating.
But now that he had to explain it to Xiao Yuan, he did not want to bring it up at all.
“This matter is already over.”
He hurriedly spoke.
“I already refused. Don’t talk about it anymore.”
He thought the subject would end there.
But Xiao Yuan asked:
“Why did you refuse?”
In Xiao Yuan’s opinion, if Su Muchen was the only person remaining in the Su family’s direct bloodline, then getting married was indeed extremely important to the family.
But Su Muchen had actually refused.
He could not understand the reason for his refusal.
Su Muchen raised his eyes.
Xiao Yuan’s expression remained calm, but the question itself carried a subtle weight.
Su Muchen was just about to explain when Xiao spoke first.
“Because my Mu’an announced in front of everyone…”
He paused, deliberately slowing his speech.
“That he likes men.”
The shop fell silent for a moment.
Xiao Yuan’s expression did not change much, as though he had merely heard some irrelevant piece of information.
But Xiao noticed that the fingers of the hand Xiao Yuan had originally placed on the table moved slightly.
Very slightly.
Then stopped, as though he had suppressed the reaction.
The roots of Su Muchen’s ears instantly turned completely red, though this time he did not know whether it was from anger or embarrassment.
His gaze involuntarily drifted toward Xiao Yuan, then quickly moved away before he glared at Xiao.
“You—you don’t make things up! That was just something I said in anger!”
Su Muchen’s voice rose slightly, but there was a hint of guilty uncertainty in it even he could not quite explain.
That afternoon, he had not only humiliated himself in front of the elders from the Su family’s collateral branches.
Now he had humiliated himself in front of Xiao Yuan, too.
“Is that so?”
Xiao Yuan said it in the same calm tone and did not ask any further questions.
He pushed the several documents on the table toward Su Muchen.
“Take a look at the situation in Linbei City today.”
His tone was so calm that it was as though the conversation from just now had never happened.
Xiao smiled faintly, patted Su Muchen on the shoulder, then turned and walked toward the door.
“Then I’m off work.”
His footsteps gradually faded away.
Only Su Muchen and Xiao Yuan remained in the shop.
Su Muchen sat down in front of the counter and reached out to pick up the documents. When his fingertips touched the edge of the paper, they tightened slightly.
He remained silent for a moment before speaking.
“How is Linbei City today?”
Xiao Yuan began explaining the distribution and inventory of today’s supplies, his tone no different from usual.
Su Muchen listened while nodding, occasionally lowering his head to add a few notes to the paper.
The conversation between the two returned to supplies, medicine, food, and wounded soldiers.
Everything was as ordinary as countless nights in the past.
But Su Muchen vaguely sensed something subtle.
While Xiao Yuan was speaking, his gaze would occasionally fall on Su Muchen’s face before moving away.
Those moments of lingering were extremely brief, so brief that they were almost impossible to notice.
Su Muchen remembered what Xiao Yuan had said when he entered:
“You weren’t here. I thought something had happened.”
The tone of those words had been so flat that there had not been the slightest ripple.
But how long had he been waiting?
The tea had already gone completely cold.
There was not even a ring of water around the rim of the cup.
The documents on the table had been spread open, yet there were no signs that they had been turned.
Xiao Yuan must have been worried that something had happened to them.
But he had no way to take action and could only remain in the shop and wait.
Linbei City was currently in desperate need of the supplies from Guichen Studio.
If the supplies were cut off, who knew how many people would fail to make it through.
Xiao Yuan could not lose this supply line.
He could not lose Guichen Studio.
Suddenly, a trace of guilt surfaced in Su Muchen’s heart.
He put down his pen and raised his head.
“Jingyuan, I’m sorry. It was my negligence that made you wait this long.”
Xiao Yuan was putting a list away into his robe when he heard those words. His movement paused for a moment.
He did not answer immediately.
Instead, he lowered his head, folded the list neatly, and placed it inside the inner part of his robe.
“As long as you’re safe.”
The words were spoken very lightly, just as usual.
But his fingertips lingered at the edge of his robe for an extra moment.
Su Muchen sat there, not immediately responding.
He suddenly realized that Xiao Yuan had just said, “As long as you’re safe,” not, “As long as you two are safe.”
It was merely the difference between singular and plural, yet it was like a tiny needle, gently pricking some place in his heart that he had not yet given a name to.
He lowered his head, pretending to look at the documents, while the warmth at the tips of his ears had still not completely faded.
The shop remained quiet for a while. There was only the faint electrical hum of the old light bulb and the occasional sound of paper being turned, as though this conversation had not truly ended, but had merely stopped for the moment at a place that neither of them knew how to cross.
What Su Muchen did not know was that when Xiao Yuan entered Guichen Studio earlier, what he saw was complete darkness.
At this hour on ordinary days, the lights on the first floor were always on.
But tonight, there was no light.
When he pushed open the door, everything around him was silent and dark, as though reminding him that there was no one inside the shop.
He did not turn on the lights. He first walked into the front hall to check, but it was still completely dark. The doors and windows were tightly closed, with only the light from outside filtering through the gaps in the curtains and falling onto the floor.
He then went upstairs. The staircase gave out its familiar creaking sounds beneath his feet, but both rooms on the second floor were empty. The bedding was neatly arranged, with no signs that anyone had touched it.
Su Muchen was gone.
Xiao was gone, too.
It was clearly the time when the two of them should have been taking turns on duty, yet both had disappeared at the same time.
He wanted to go look for them, but then he realized—how was he supposed to look?
Here, he had no soldiers he could command, no hidden guards he could dispatch, and not even a horse to ride.
He knew nothing about the world outside Guichen Studio. He did not know where the end of Changning Alley led, did not know how to navigate the streets of Yunjing City, and did not even know whom he could ask for directions.
The only thing he could do was return to the first floor, sit down, and wait.
He sat in front of the counter, put on the insulated gloves Su Muchen had given him, and lit a lamp.
The light from that lamp was narrow, illuminating only a small area in front of the desktop and pushing everything beyond the counter back into darkness.
He spread out the documents, but did not turn the pages. He simply sat there, listening to the occasional sound of footsteps coming from Changning Alley, waiting for the moment the door would be pushed open.
This was actually the only thing he could do.
“Is there a map here?” Xiao Yuan suddenly asked.
Su Muchen raised his head. “A map?”
He thought for a moment before realizing that Xiao Yuan was referring to a map.
Xiao Yuan nodded. “I want to see the location of your city.”
Su Muchen froze for a moment.
He remembered that every time Xiao Yuan came to Guichen Studio, he passed directly through the Gate and arrived in the back room, knowing nothing about the world outside.
He did not know what Changning Alley looked like, did not know how large Yunjing City was, and did not know the outline of the island where this city was located, or even that of this continent.
The only route he was familiar with was the short stretch from Guichen Studio to the entrance of Changning Alley.
“Wait a moment.”
Su Muchen immediately opened his laptop.
When the screen lit up, its cold white light reflected across his face, making his features appear a little clearer than usual.
He opened an online map and entered several keywords. The screen quickly zoomed in, gradually focusing from a blue-and-green world map onto an island.
“This is the world map of our world.” Su Muchen turned the screen toward Xiao Yuan. “This island is where we are. Yunjing City is here.”
His finger tapped the screen. The map zoomed in further, and the outline of the city appeared. Markings for streets, rivers, and mountain ranges emerged one after another.
Xiao Yuan lowered his head and looked at the screen, his gaze falling upon that unfamiliar land.
He did not hurry to speak. He simply watched quietly, as though committing the position of every line and every point to memory.
“Yunjing City is very large,” Su Muchen continued, his finger moving along the streets on the screen. “Guichen Studio is in Changning Alley in the old city district. Here—”
He zoomed in on the map again, and a narrow alley appeared on the screen, surrounded by densely packed blocks.
Changning Alley was not marked on the map; it was too small. But from the spot Su Muchen pointed to, Xiao Yuan knew where it was.
He looked at it for a long time, as though engraving the location of that alley and the directions of the surrounding streets into his mind, stroke by stroke.
Wanting Xiao Yuan to also see what the area outside the alley looked like, Su Muchen clicked into street-view mode, and the appearance of Changning Alley appeared on the screen.
“This is what it looks like outside the alley.” He explained as he clicked through the images.
Xiao Yuan watched the changes on the screen, finding it incredibly fascinating, as though he were actually there.
If not for the consideration of his identity, he really would have wanted to find some time to explore the world outside Guichen Studio.
“What do you think?” Su Muchen asked.
“Mm. This place really is very different.”
Xiao Yuan did not say much more, merely moving his gaze away from the screen.
If he had not seen it with his own eyes, he would not have believed that a world with such enormous differences could actually exist.
Houses shaped like four-sided boxes, towering into the clouds.
Gray roads, smooth and wide.
Strange vehicles that could speed along without needing horses.
A world that looked extremely clean and orderly, yet was very cold.
Su Muchen did not press him further.
He closed the laptop, and the lighting in the shop returned to the warm yellow glow of the light bulb.
Outside, Changning Alley remained quiet. The light from the streetlamps continued to fall upon the damp stone road, like a road smoothed flat by time.
“If you want to see it, I’ll prepare a set of clothes for you another day, and we can go outside and walk around.”
Su Muchen said.
Xiao Yuan raised his eyes to look at him, as though weighing something.
After a moment, he said quietly, “Okay.”
That “okay” fell into the quiet air of Guichen Studio, sounding just like an ordinary response between them.
Su Muchen lowered his head and reopened the documents on the table.
Xiao Yuan also said nothing more, merely sitting across from him at the counter.
◆◇◆◇◆
That same morning, in Linbei City.
The wind and snow had temporarily ceased.
Daylight seeped through the gaps in the tent, spreading a layer of pale gray-white light across the desk.
Xia Lanshi was wearing a thick cloak as he sat before the desk.
A bowl of medicine he had just finished drinking still rested beside his hand, the residual warmth at the bottom of the bowl not yet dissipated.
His complexion was still somewhat pale, but the murky, sickly look that had previously filled his eyes was already gone.
After his fever subsided, his energy and spirit were gradually returning.
However, Xiao Yuan still limited the number of hours he worked each day, allowing him to recuperate a little more.
The tent curtain was lifted, and cold wind carrying fine snow swept inside.
Xiao Yuan walked in, still carrying the chill of the early morning on his shoulders.
He said nothing. He simply placed a wooden box on the desk and pushed it toward him.
Xia Lanshi did not open it immediately. He merely looked at the wooden box for a moment.
“Your Highness looks well today.”
“I slept for two hours,” Xiao Yuan said.
Xia Lanshi’s brows moved slightly.
He knew that Xiao Yuan never casually mentioned his own sleeping habits.
For him to say this meant that it was true, and it also meant that he was using an indirect way of telling him—the Sleep Management Regulations, he was trying to follow them.
Xia Lanshi did not point it out. He merely opened the wooden box.
Inside were several organized documents, as well as a newly updated map.
There was the grain inventory from Hanchuan, the movements of officials from Linzhou, recovery statistics for the wounded soldiers at the northern outposts, and several reports concerning the movement of refugees.
He turned through the pages one by one, his fingertips moving across the paper. Occasionally, he would pause somewhere for a moment and use the tip of his brush to draw a faint mark.
“The epidemic is already showing signs of being under control.” He finished reading the last page. “After bringing the methods used in Linzhou and Hanchuan here, the number of new cases is decreasing. As long as supplies can be provided steadily, there should not be another large-scale outbreak.”
Xiao Yuan nodded. “Guichen Studio will continue sending soap, medicine, and masks.”
Xia Lanshi set that report aside and picked up the next one.
The numbers on the grain inventory did not look good, but neither had they continued to worsen.
He looked at it for a while before closing the ledger.
“As for food, in the short term, we’ll still have to rely on allocations from Linzhou and Hanchuan, as well as support from Guichen Studio. As for the seeds… I’m afraid we’ll have to wait until spring.”
He paused, then continued, “But before spring arrives, there is something more urgent.”
Xiao Yuan looked at him.
Xia Lanshi pushed the grain ledger aside and picked up another document.
It was a brief household registration record, its handwriting hurried and messy, with the corners still bearing traces of having been soaked by melted snow.
“People,” he said.
Xiao Yuan did not interrupt.
“What Linbei City lacks most right now isn’t grain, nor medicine. It’s people.” Xia Lanshi’s voice was quiet, yet carried a sharp certainty. “The city has been rebuilt, but if no one comes to live here, then it is merely an empty city. If the granaries are full, but there is no one to eat the grain, then it is merely another warehouse. We need to let everyone outside know—Linbei City has come back to life.”
Xiao Yuan looked at the household register.
“The people of the northern border aren’t afraid of the Beidi.”
Xia Lanshi raised his eyes.
Xiao Yuan said calmly, “They’re afraid of hunger, and they’re afraid of the cold. If there are only houses, they won’t come.”
Xia Lanshi was slightly stunned.
Then he smiled.
“Your Highness agrees with what I mean?”
Xiao Yuan nodded.
“Those who come must have land, houses, and grain,” he said. “They must also have someone to protect them.”
Xia Lanshi lowered his pale lashes, his fingertips gently tapping the hastily written household registration record.
“As long as we spread the news, the people will naturally come.”
Xiao Yuan shook his head.
“Not enough.”
Xia Lanshi was startled.
Xiao Yuan recalled the gazes of the refugees he had encountered on the road to Linbei City.
“The people don’t believe news.” He raised his eyes and looked at Xia Lanshi. “They believe what they see. Send people out with grain and medicine, and bring back those who are still alive. Let those refugees see with their own eyes that there is a way to survive here.”
“Your Highness is right.”
Xia Lanshi smiled faintly.
The smile was brief, yet carried a certainty completely different from his sickly appearance.
“Now that the Prefect of Linzhou is gone, and the court’s new official has not yet taken office—”
“He will come.” Xiao Yuan narrowed his eyes slightly.
Xia Lanshi nodded.
“At the earliest, it will still take half a month.”
“That’s enough.”
Xiao Yuan placed his hand on the map.
“Granaries, household registration, city defenses. Half a month is enough for me to take control.”
“Linzhou is nominally under the governor’s authority right now. In reality, it is also under the governor’s authority. Your Highness, you are the Governor-General of the Northern Border and have the authority to mobilize all of Linzhou’s resources. The documents make it clear.”
Xia Lanshi lightly tapped Linbei City on the map and said,
“People, grain, money, and soldiers—if all of these are concentrated in the hands of one person, then this city will be more than just a city.”
He spread open another document. Written on it were the points he had drafted overnight.
The handwriting was neat and slender, line after line, like a road being gradually laid flat.
“First, the epidemic is already under control. We only need to maintain the supply of medicine and materials. Second, as for food, rely on transfers in the short term and military farming in the long term, once spring arrives. Third, bring the people back. Fourth, place Linzhou, Hanchuan, the Northern Outpost, and Qingshi Village—all of them—under the governor-general’s jurisdiction.”
He raised his eyes, his red pupils like two pieces of cinnabar polished smooth in the morning light.
“Fifth—turn Linbei City into the capital of the Northern Border.”
Xiao Yuan was silent for a moment.
His gaze rested on that line—
Turn Linbei City into the capital of the Northern Border.
“The Northern Border cannot be without a center,” Xia Lanshi said. “It used to be Linzhou, but Linzhou has already rotted. Now we change to another city—a city Your Highness can control. The imperial court can send a new prefect to Linzhou, but he will have no authority over Linbei City—because Your Highness is the Governor-General of the Northern Border, and Linbei City is the governor-general’s seat. As long as it can stand up legally on paper, then it becomes the new rule.”
Xiao Yuan looked at the several documents on the desk.
Stacked together, they were like the foundation of a city.
He knew Xia Lanshi never spoke empty words. Every one of these provisions had a basis.
And ultimately, they all pointed toward a path he had already been thinking about for a long time, but had never yet been able to clearly put into words.
“There is one more thing.” Xia Lanshi put down the document, his tone slowing somewhat. “Your Highness needs more people of your own.”
Xiao Yuan raised his eyes.
“Pei Yi commands the military, while I handle administration. Further down, the hundred-household commanders, thousand-household commanders, grain officials, clerks—all of them need to be replaced with our own people. The city can be lost, the grain can be burned, but there cannot be fewer of our own people.”
Xiao Yuan did not answer immediately.
He knew that every word Xia Lanshi had said was correct.
“You’ve already started doing it,” he said.
Xia Lanshi did not deny it. He merely coughed lightly, folded the document, and pushed it back.
“One last matter.”
Xia Lanshi paused.
This matter was the most important, yet it was also the one place Xiao Yuan could not be tested.
But he had to bring it up.
Xia Lanshi raised his eyes toward Xiao Yuan.
“—Regarding the Beidi.”
Xiao Yuan looked at him. His eyes were calm, but deep within them, a spark flickered faintly.
Xia Lanshi lowered his eyes, his fingertips lightly resting on the white jade safety pendant around his wrist, as though organizing his thoughts.
“Your Highness, the Beidi cannot be destroyed.”
When these words fell inside the tent, they were softer than everything he had said before, yet they were also heavier than everything he had said before.
Xiao Yuan was silent. There was no anger in his eyes, and his voice remained calm, but his gaze was fixed directly on Xia Lanshi.
After a moment, Xiao Yuan said, “You should know what the Beidi people have done.”
“I know.”
Xia Lanshi lowered his eyes.
The tent was silent for a while.
Suddenly, Xiao Yuan gave a short laugh.
It was very faint, but there was no amusement in it.
“There were originally 4,427 soldiers stationed at the Northern Outpost. After the battle, the count showed that 3,386 answered the roll.”
Xiao Yuan raised his eyes and looked at him, his voice deep, cold, and heavy.
“The rest are still buried in the snow. You want me to forget?”
Xia Lanshi fell silent.
“I buried them with my own hands. I remember every one of their names.”
Xiao Yuan’s voice was cold.
He had gone to battle at the Northern Border countless times.
Countless brothers had died beneath the blades of the Beidi.
He would never forget this hatred.
“I know all of that.”
Xia Lanshi raised his eyes again, his tone still resolute.
“So I’m not asking Your Highness to spare the Beidi. I’m asking Your Highness to make use of the Beidi.”
Xiao Yuan fell silent again.
“Make use of them?”
Xiao Yuan gave a cold laugh.
“Let the Beidi continue to live, and let the people of the Northern Border continue to suffer?”
He looked at Xia Lanshi, his voice icy cold.
“Let the soldiers buried beneath the snow continue to increase?”
Xia Lanshi naturally understood.
The proposal he was putting forward would send people to their deaths.
If they made use of the Beidi, casualties would be unavoidable.
But he still had to propose it.
“I want them to live as Your Highness’s blade, rather than live as Your Highness’s enemy.”
He looked at Xiao Yuan.
“The Beidi are both an enemy and a protective talisman,” Xia Lanshi said solemnly. “If the Beidi completely disappear, the imperial court will no longer need a governor-general. At that time, the Emperor will order Your Highness to return, and then use another charge to dismantle Your Highness bit by bit.”
Xiao Yuan’s gaze fell upon his face.
Xia Lanshi raised his eyes, the light reflected in his red pupils.
“So the Beidi must remain,” he said. “We must let them win battles, but never let them break through.”
They had to find every possible way to maintain the current situation in the Northern Border.
They had to let the Beidi continue attacking the Northern Border, while not allowing them to break through into its vital areas.
So they had to deceive.
Deceive the Beidi, deceive the capital, and maintain a delicate balance.
As long as the Beidi remained, military provisions, military funds, and power would not be cut off.
That was their way to survive.
The tent was silent for a while.
Wind seeped through the gaps in the tent, stirring the corners of the papers on the desk and producing a faint rustling sound.
Xiao Yuan sat there in silence for a long time.
He looked at the man before him, whose body was frail with illness, yet who still sat at the desk planning everything for him, and suddenly remembered something.
Many years ago, when Xia Lanshi had first arrived at the Prince Su’s Residence, he had been so thin that he looked like a blade of grass bent by the wind. Even his speech carried a careful, timid caution.
But there had already been that same light in his eyes—a light belonging to someone who knew very clearly what he wanted.
And between hatred and the greater situation, he had to suppress his personal feelings.
He had not come this time merely to quell the turmoil at the Northern Border.
He also had a longer-term plan.
“Huaiyu.”
Xiao Yuan spoke, using his courtesy name.
Xia Lanshi raised his eyes.
“Can your body hold up?”
Xia Lanshi was slightly stunned, as though he had not expected him to ask this.
After a moment, he smiled.
The smile was brief, but it was not perfunctory.
“Your Highness, rest assured. Until Linbei City becomes the strongest city in the Northern Border, I will not fall.”
He paused, then added, his voice somewhat softer than before,
“The Northern Border is by no means a prison. It is Your Highness’s foundation. The Emperor gave Your Highness the Northern Border because he wants Your Highness to die here.”
Everyone knew that when the Emperor appointed Xiao Yuan as the Governor-General of the Northern Border, gave him thirty thousand troops, and sent him to the Northern Border to quell the unrest, it was not because the Emperor valued him.
The true purpose had only been one thing—
To exile Prince Su.
This was something Xiao Yuan himself understood better than anyone.
He raised his eyes. His pale-red pupils, illuminated by the morning light, were like two lamps that had been lit.
“—Then we will turn this into the strongest place in the Northern Border.”
Xiao Yuan looked at him, the corner of his lips moving slightly. He nodded, then looked toward the snowy wilderness outside the tent.
“I didn’t like this place before,” Xiao Yuan said lightly.
Xia Lanshi raised his eyes.
Xiao Yuan continued, “I thought it was barren. Cold. I thought it buried people.”
He paused.
“Now it’s different.”
Xiao Yuan’s finger pressed down on the map, landing on the position of Linbei City.
“Since the Emperor threw me here, wanting me to die here, then I will survive here. The Northern Border will be my Northern Border.”
His gaze was deep, the fire in his eyes still burning beneath its restraint.
“One day, the capital will have to answer to the Northern Border.”
This time, he would establish himself firmly in the Northern Border, quietly growing stronger right under the eyes of both the capital and the Beidi.