Xie Ci pulled Gu Wan out of the tomb, pushing them both back up to the surface.
The moon was bright, the stars sparse, and the snow lay thick and white, covering the earth in a quiet, pale stillness under the faint silver glow. The two of them stood on the high slope, gazing for a long while, until a cold wind blew against their faces.
“Let’s go.” Xie Ci reached out his hand to Gu Wan, leaped up to the cliff top, and together they mounted their horses, retracing their path back down.
Their horses had already been changed. Unlike their old warhorses, these new ones were less adept at climbing mountains. Combined with the detour they had taken, by the time they descended the hills and returned to the main road, dawn was breaking. Smoke curled from roadside tea stalls preparing breakfast, and early traders and travelers were already on the move.
Xie Ci thought it over. “We should go find Cao Yong.”
By now, it was certain that the man whose face had been charred beyond recognition was not Xun Xiao. Based on the information they had, he must have realized something was wrong at the last moment, strangled the Beirong soldier, swapped armor, and somehow managed to escape death. He must have gotten away.
Gu Wan said, “He should have burns, shouldn’t he?”
She was reconstructing the scene from the reports. If the fire had been small, Xun Xun’s men—or Xun Xun himself—would have noticed. And for a blaze strong enough to wipe out an entire Wei army, it could not have been minor. Otherwise, Long Shouren would not have had the chance to cover it up.
In such a fire, escaping without burns would be impossible—unless one were immortal. Gu Wan had already asked Xie Ci back on the mountain, “Who would most likely have rescued and sheltered him?”
Xie Ci had thought carefully: “Most likely a bodyguard surnamed Luo.”
During their trip to Suzhou, they had uncovered far more than just Xun Rongbi. They had studied the dossiers of the treason case thoroughly, including Xun Xiao’s. Xie Ci’s memory was excellent—he recalled the list of fallen guards and noticed none bore the surname Luo.
Xun Xiao’s mother had a maidservant surnamed Luo, and his wet nurse was also surnamed Luo. That guard was his milk-brother, who had trained and entered the army alongside him. But Xie Ci had learned that Luo had retired years earlier because of battle injuries and was no longer listed in the military rolls. Later, under Xun Xiao’s arrangement, he had bought farmland, left the army, married, and started a family.
Finding someone—neither too hard nor too easy. The conditions were clear enough: the surname Luo, and a household that had taken in someone with burns—likely quite severe. The problem was that Luo was a major surname in the northwest. Roughly one in ten families bore it, just like the great surnames Zhang or Chen in later generations, everywhere you turned.
And Xun Xiao might not even still be in Suzhou. The northern frontier had nine fortified towns—here there was also Mingzhou and Guzhou, and further inland countless counties and villages.
Both of them had thought of Cao Yong—the young head of the escort bureau they had met before. The Weiyang Escort Bureau had been established in the northwest for many years, with branches in every major city. In that line of work, one had to know people across both the underworld and the official world. When Cao Yong had said he could help them find someone, it hadn’t been an empty promise. Now it was just right, tying back to his words: “If you can’t find your relatives, then come to me later.”
Today was overcast, with strong winds. The cold gusts rattled the eaves and shook snow from the branches.
Xie Ci lifted his eyes to the long street, where patches of snow, smoke from cooking fires, and the murmur of voices mingled. He said, “If Cao Yong betrays us, I’ll kill him!”
They hadn’t chosen the Weiyang Escort Bureau at random. The Cao family owed a great debt to Xie Xinzhong. Years ago, when the bureau had offended the authorities and nearly lost everything, Xie Xinzhong stepped in to resolve the matter and save them from ruin. Though the Cao family were small figures, when the Xie family was falsely accused and escorted to the capital, the Cao father and son had spoken out and run tirelessly on their behalf.
In the bitter wind and cold snow, Xie Ci’s sharp, beautiful eyes reflected the whiteness. His pupils seemed frozen, calm yet carrying a silent, bone-deep chill. He turned his head to look at Gu Wan.
Xie Ci had truly changed a great deal. But on his original path, he had always been strict in discipline and decisive in killing.
Gu Wan couldn’t help but sigh. “You really have changed.”
Gradually, he was becoming the very Xie Ci she remembered in her impressions.
But Xie Ci didn’t share that sentiment. Seeing her silent for a while and then suddenly saying this, his heart grew anxious: “No matter what, we’re still the same as before! Always will be! I just think… we can’t go on exactly as we did before…”
His mindset had shifted, and with it everything else—his attitude toward life, his way of dealing with the world. Yet no matter how things changed, whatever the future held, he was still Xie Ci. Between him and her, between him and his family, that would never change. It made him flustered.
Gu Wan chuckled. “I mean, you’ve truly come of age—you’re a man now.” In ancient times, sixteen marked adulthood, and indeed there was reason behind it. Xie Ci had endured so much tempering; the change was especially clear.
She spoke in a teasing tone, and Xie Ci realized she was mocking him again. His heart settled back into place. But when she said “you’re a man now,” somehow his heartbeat quickened by two beats, and a strange unease welled up inside him.
Before he could respond, Gu Wan laughed twice, pulled him up onto the horse, and said, “Come on, let’s go. Weren’t we going to find Cao Yong?”
Her graceful mounting posture, long legs pressing the horse’s flanks—her brown steed tossed its tail and trotted forward.
Gu Wan flicked her whip, her hair flying in the wind, and turned back with a smile: “Hey, Little Fourth, it’s up to you now. You’ve got to carve out a place for our family to stand and live!”
Stop talking about dying all the time. See? This is how it should be. As the saying goes, “After surviving great calamity, blessings will follow.” One must be optimistic. And she could share in those blessings too.
To stir the winds and shake the world—that was too grand a proposition, Gu Wan thought. It felt a bit distant from herself. So from the very beginning, she had set her role as guiding and supporting him. It seemed now that their efforts were beginning to bear fruit.
The wind carried Gu Wan’s laughter: “When you become a great general someday, remember to give me a post as a logistics officer.”
Xie Ci immediately replied, “How could you possibly just be a logistics officer? At the very least, you’d be a military strategist, a Grand Counselor, or even a Colonel of the Imperial Secretariat!” He spoke without thinking, the words spilling out as soon as he came back to himself.
Indeed, the Grand Counselor was the superior of the logistics officer—the position once held by Guo Jia; as for the Colonel of the Secretariat, even Zhuge Liang had served in that role.
Gu Wan laughed so hard she nearly doubled over. “My god, brother, you think far too highly of me!”
Though the title of “great general” was still distant and uncertain—Xie Ci hadn’t dared to imagine it for himself—Gu Wan’s laughter was so bright and joyous that his own mood lifted in a way he had never felt before. He found himself smiling along with her.
Their laughter mingled with the sound of hooves, clattering over the slush of snow and mud. Two horses, one ahead and one behind, quickly left the small town behind them.
After the snow, the sky cleared, a brilliant blue. The golden winter sun spread across the land.
At last, everything seemed to be going smoothly.
Gu Wan kept her goals modest. Disguised, she entered Suzhou City and went straight to the Weiyang Escort Bureau. Cao Yong was full of loyalty, thumping his chest: “Don’t worry, brothers, leave it to me!”
The Weiyang Escort Bureau was an old establishment, well connected. Escort work often brought them into contact with apothecaries and physicians, so they knew many people. Before long, Cao Yong had found a target that matched the conditions.
“In Ping County—it was only last year they moved there.”
Ping County was under Suzhou’s jurisdiction, bordering the Funiu Mountains, a branch of the Longshan range. Cross the mountains and you’d be in Longzhou territory. It sat at the junction of east-west trade routes, a small county town with a touch of prosperity.
Cao Yong took Xie Ci and Gu Wan’s request very seriously. After making inquiries, he decided to lead the way himself.
Ping County also had a branch of the escort bureau, where Cao Yong had once stayed for a time. He knew the place well. Following the address given by the branch head, he led Xie Ci and Gu Wan through streets and alleys until they reached the southern part of the city, in an area where common folk and small merchants lived. At the end of a lane called Qingtou Alley stood a modest two‑courtyard residence.
“This Luo family only moved to Ping County last year. He has a wife and a son, but it’s said the wife took the child back to Mingzhou for schooling. So at home it’s just Luo Da and his cousin.”
“His cousin is said to have suffered severe burns, though by the time he arrived he had mostly recovered and no longer needed a doctor. But I heard… he’s a madman…”
Gu Wan muttered inwardly—of course he had mostly recovered. Without that stroke of luck, he would have died.
Cao Yong suddenly halted. “Here it is!”
Cao Yong was a man well versed in human dealings. Seeing that Xie Ci and Gu Wan, staring at the doorway, showed no sudden joy on their faces, he said, “I’ll head back to the branch. You can decide whether to stay here or not. If not, you can return to the bureau.” With that, he lifted his foot and left.
Xie Ci watched his departing figure, silently followed him with his sword in hand, and when he returned, he gave Gu Wan a slight shake of the head—he had found nothing suspicious about Cao Yong for now.
By then the day was nearing dusk. Gu Wan had spent most of the afternoon sitting in turns at the tea stalls and wonton stands near the street corner, worried her face might be recognized. At last she rented a room on the third floor of an inn. Opening the window, she could see the entire courtyard below. So she sat there, cracking melon seeds and sipping tea, keeping watch as she waited for Xie Ci.
At last he returned. The two exchanged a few words. Xie Ci drained half a bowl of tea, and together they went straight toward the two‑courtyard residence.
The lane was lined with ordinary homes. The buildings were not particularly uniform; many courtyards were fenced with half mud walls and half wicker. This two‑courtyard house was a bit better—its walls were fully packed earth, though not high, just level with Gu Wan’s ears.
The snow at the corners of the lane had already been swept away. The slanting sunlight shone on the brown‑yellow walls. The house and the long alley lay silent. Xie Ci and Gu Wan walked one behind the other up to the half‑worn, black‑painted gate.
Xie Ci drew his slender goose‑feather blade and stepped forward, shielding Gu Wan.
Gu Wan’s skills were not bad, but against someone like Xie Ci—who had trained in internal martial arts since childhood—she would be at a disadvantage. And Xun Xiao was precisely such a master.
Xie Ci pushed at the door with the scabbard, but it didn’t move. Then, like any neighbor might, he tapped the scabbard against it.
Knock, knock, knock.
Gu Wan had no objections, following his lead and stepping back. As Xie Ci knocked, she tilted her head slightly—and her gaze, sweeping casually across the courtyard she had already examined earlier, froze in sudden shock. Damn it!
Just moments ago, the dusty yard had been empty save for a few clothes swaying on bamboo poles in the wind. But now, at some unknown moment, a figure had appeared beside the main house door!
The man was tall, but what caught Gu Wan’s eye first was not his height.
It was the blood‑red scars streaked with charred black, the twisted, uneven marks unique to burn wounds, covering half his face. A large patch of scalp was gone, raw and bare; his left eye socket warped, that eye glaring red and ferocious. At first glance, it looked like the face and gaze of a demon crawling out of hell!
And his left wrist was gone, the flesh below it raw and twisted, sleeve fluttering in the wind to reveal the bare stump of his arm.
The sight struck Gu Wan completely off guard, startling her badly. Good heavens!
Gu Wan was not afraid of corpses, and she had seen many injured and disabled people before. But this man’s appearance—and his eyes—were so terrifying that even with her mental preparation, her adrenaline surged uncontrollably.
Xie Ci suddenly turned, instantly stepping in front of Gu Wan to shield her, locking eyes with Xun Xiao. Even he couldn’t help but be shaken.
Xun Xiao—the famed young scholar‑general of the northern frontier, known for his silver armor and white robes, nicknamed the “White‑faced Gentleman.”
The legitimate eldest son of Suzhou’s governor, Xun Rongbi. But what people remembered most was his excessively handsome appearance. Refined and elegant, like the bright moon shining through the wind.
Now Xun Xiao said coldly: “Isn’t it terrifying? Don’t I look like a ghost? Ha… ha ha ha…” His voice sounded as though it had been scraped raw by the sharpest gravel, then scorched by smoke and fire for weeks. His vocal cords could no longer stretch. It was the voice of a demon crawling out of hell, so piercing it felt like a rasp grinding against the eardrum and heart, making one’s insides shrink instantly.
Xun Xiao laughed hoarsely, his features twisted: “All of this is thanks to your dear uncle and cousin!” His hatred was boundless. Only now did he realize that he and his mother had been nothing but a joke. His mother, Lady Pei, was already dead—silenced.
The father he had revered for thirty years was nothing but a monster cloaked in virtue! And the brother he had cherished for years as if he were his own flesh and blood turned out to be a Beirong bastard, full of malice from the very beginning!
He longed to tear their throats apart, to drink their blood mouthful by mouthful, to make them suffer every torment in the world before dying!
He hated them. He hated everything and everyone connected to Xun Rongbi and Xun Xun, those two vile traitors!
Xie Ci’s expression did not change in the slightest. He said coldly, “That is your father and your brother.” Faced with such sharp accusations, he did not hesitate to strike back.
Xun Xiao was nearly mad! He screamed hoarsely and lunged forward in a frenzy. At that moment, Luo Qian rushed out of the house, throwing himself to the ground and clutching Xun Xiao’s leg tightly. Pulling hard, he looked up with a pleading face:
“Fourth Young Master, my lord is ill. Whenever he’s provoked, he becomes like this. He will recover—medicine and rest will help him.”
“Second Young Master is not truly my lord’s brother. He was actually brought back by General Xun before marriage, said to be an illegitimate son, older than my lord. When the real second son died young, the general took him in and gave him the identity of the second son.”
Lady Pei was kind‑hearted. When Xun Rongbi earnestly asked her to accept Xun Xun, she agreed. Whatever her own son had, he would have too—she treated him as if he were her own.
Who could have guessed that he was actually the orphaned son of Princess Rilian, a Beirong child full of malice, scheming for twenty years, only to one day tear off his mask and reveal his hideous true face.
Of Xun Rongbi’s past, Lady Pei and her son knew nothing. In the end, it was mother and child who bore all the consequences!
Luo Qian recalled the moment he saw the eldest young master again, tears streaming down his face. “I beg you, Fourth Young Master. We’ve already uncovered what you wanted to know. My lord is not usually like this. It was your sudden appearance that provoked him. Give him time—tomorrow, when he’s better, he’ll tell you everything.”
“I beg you, I beg you, Fourth Young Master.”
Xun Xiao, in a frenzy, kept struggling and shouting, even alarming the neighbors. A child cried out, “The madman’s going to hit someone again!”
Luo Qian pleaded desperately, dragging him back into the house.
Xie Ci slid his blade back into its sheath with a sharp swish. In Xun Xiao’s current state, there was no way to continue any meaningful conversation. “Wan‑niang, what’s wrong?”
He turned quickly. From the start until now, Gu Wan had remained silent. Xun Xiao’s appearance was indeed terrifying, and Xie Ci worried she had been frightened.
“No, no, I’m fine.” Gu Wan wasn’t truly scared—only startled at first. She quickly waved her hand, tiptoeing to peer at Luo Qian dragging the struggling Xun Xiao inside until the door shut, then finally withdrew her gaze.
Startled, yes—but more by surprise than fear. Holy crap. Wasn’t this Ghost Hand?
Gu Wan hadn’t expected to encounter such an important figure here.
In the original trajectory of Xie Ci—the man who blazed across the sky like a war god—there was a military strategist of near‑demonic brilliance, known as Ghost Hand. His face was burned and disfigured, his left hand destroyed, amputated below the wrist, leaving only a raw, scarred stump of an arm.
Holy crap. So these two were cousins all along.
Gu Wan had worried before—would her presence interfere with him meeting Ghost Hand? But now she realized what she had thought was coincidence was actually inevitability. She scratched her head. Only… the relationship between the two of them didn’t seem to be going very well at the moment.
Dusk had already fallen, the last glow of sunset fading away, and the chill of night descended sharply.
Xie Ci stared at the main door of the courtyard for a moment, then pulled Gu Wan back to the inn.
“We’ll come again tomorrow. My hatred for Xun Xun runs too deep.”
Unlike Gu Wan, who upon realizing Xun Xiao was Ghost Hand immediately grew excited—almost certain now that Xun Xiao was fine and would be a great help—Xie Ci regarded him with cold detachment.
Because Xun Xiao bore the surname Xun. Even if reason told him the man was also a victim, after what he had just endured with Xun Rongbi, emotionally Xie Ci could no longer feel any closeness toward him.
Unlike in the previous life he didn’t know about, this time he had family, and he had Gu Wan. Different times, different people—he no longer needed to cling to Xun Xiao for warmth.
As he deftly blew on the tinder and lit the oil lamp, Xie Ci spoke.
Gu Wan rested her chin in one hand at the table, watching his elegant, handsome profile. With a soft pop, the lamp flared to life, its warm glow illuminating his dark brows and starry eyes. He could now truly be called handsome. His features had matured, less delicate but more commanding, increasingly striking. And really, she thought, this was a good thing.
To have endured enough to harmonize with someone as extreme as Xun Xiao—it showed just how lonely he must have been. Thinking of that, Gu Wan immediately cast aside her faint regrets.
“Hey, Xie Ci!” Calling him by his real name, Gu Wan lowered her voice and leaned closer.
Xie Ci blew out the tinder and tucked it away. When he turned, her face was right before his eyes. He could clearly see each long, dark eyelash and even the fine patterns in her slightly curved pupils. He gave a startled “Huh?”—his heartbeat suddenly quickened.
“What is it?” Xie Ci braced a hand against the wall, speaking softly too.
Gu Wan giggled. “Xie Ci, do you remember what day it is today?”
Xie Ci was stunned.
“I knew you’d forget.”
It was the eighteenth day of the twelfth lunar month—Xie Ci’s seventeenth birthday.
She smiled, waving the letter in her hand. “Forgot, didn’t you? Luckily, Second Sister‑in‑law and Mother sent word early.”
Xie Ci froze. So today was his birthday.