The woman in violet carried a faint, elusive fragrance. With snow‑white skin and a face like a flower, even in her moment of terror, she remained heartbreakingly beautiful.
After the initial jolt, Gu Wan fixed her gaze on the woman’s features—and suddenly found them strangely familiar. She hurried to search her memory, and in the next instant a name surfaced alongside that face: Yu Manzhen.
Because the memories weren’t truly hers, there was always a slight distortion—like a trigger mechanism that only recalled certain people imperfectly. Yu Manzhen had been the original host’s close friend. Not a bosom confidante, for the host rarely socialized, but one of the few companions she had. Precisely because friends were so few, the impression had been lasting. Yet the years of exile at the end of the host’s life had been so searing that all those girlish days of laughter seemed to have faded into the distant past, like stories from another lifetime.
Still, something about this woman felt odd.
And the moment Yu Manzhen’s name rose in her mind, Gu Wan felt another uncanny sense of familiarity—one that did not come from the host’s memories.
But what exactly it was, she could not recall. With danger pressing down, she had no time to dwell on it. Startled, she cursed under her breath, ignored the madwoman’s rambling, and with a swift motion pressed down and lifted—forcing Yu Manzhen upright, dagger at her throat, and shoved her forward!
“Stop!”
“Didn’t you hear?!”
In the damp heap of long grass, Gu Wan’s body was streaked with mud and blades, yet she looked anything but disheveled. Her almond-shaped eyes shone brightly, while the brightly dressed Yu Manzhen in front of her appeared utterly bedraggled.
Gu Wan raised her voice in a fierce shout. Of course she knew the imperial troops wouldn’t stop, but weren’t these men here to rescue the Xie family? Whether they came to save or to seize, she would treat it as rescue. Their goal was the same, so naturally their blades should turn outward together.
The one fighting Xie Ci was a young man of eighteen or nineteen, his face covered with a black cloth, revealing only a broad, fair forehead and a pair of slightly upturned phoenix eyes—sharp, bright, and commanding. Startled, he and his men pulled back their blades and turned.
Gu Wan smiled at them, then shifted the dagger to Yu Manzhen’s throat. The keen edge sliced the skin, a thin line of crimson blooming against her snow-pale flesh—strikingly vivid.
Among the young man’s followers were several fighters of equal skill. The foremost was a burly man with a thick beard. For a moment, they all hesitated, wary of harming their own. But the imperial troops did not pause—in fact, they seized upon the discord and charged in, slaughtering without mercy.
The bearded man and his companions could hardly stand idle to be cut down. After a glance at their leader and a quick exchange of looks, they had no choice but to wheel around, blades raised to block the imperial troops’ assault.
Gu Wan had succeeded in forcing their blades to turn outward together.
It was as if someone pressed pause for a heartbeat—then everything surged back into motion. This was the perfect chance for the Xie family to break free!
Xie Ci let out a fierce shout. He clashed with the young man in a sudden burst, then, without hesitation, darted back like lightning. His blade blazed like molten steel, sweeping through the ranks and forcing the deputy general and his soldiers three steps back, freeing Madam Xun and several nieces and nephews. Landing lightly, he scooped up his mother and the children, lifting them swiftly onto horseback.
Second Sister-in-law’s performance was equally astonishing. Her staff struck again and again, then she seized a long sword. While Xie Ci fought the young man head‑on, she held off the soldiers, her disheveled hair flying as she drove cattle and horses forward, blocking a dozen—nearly twenty—enemies.
Seeing Xie Ci cut down every mortal threat, she clenched the sword hilt between her teeth, hoisted her children onto horseback, and barked, “Hold tight to the reins—!”
Then she crouched low in a horse‑stance, heaving Third Sister‑in‑law onto a saddle, snatched up her three‑year‑old niece, swung herself onto a horse, and with a savage slash at the reins, sent the beast charging forward.
The weakest of the Xie clan had no time to waste—if they didn’t escape now, they might never get another chance. Xie Ci rode at the front, his Yan‑ling blade dripping blood, carving a path through the encirclement and shielding his family as they broke out.
The Xie family kept glancing back, but Second Sister‑in‑law, guarding the rear, dared not stop. She bit down hard, gave one last look, and whipped the reins of the horses ahead with all her strength.
Against the tide, they carved out a road—and at last, they broke free!
Gu Wan exhaled a long breath. What a close call. But she herself was still trapped in the chaos. Around her, masked men and furious soldiers glared, blades drawn, hemming her in at the very center of the storm.
The young man, seeing this, asked Gu Wan: “Are you not afraid he won’t come back for you?”
Gu Wan smiled. “A little afraid—but not very.” Her reply was open and straightforward, as if they were casual acquaintances who had struck up a pleasant impression. He wasn’t holding his sword, and she wasn’t pressing her dagger against the throat of his girlfriend—or sister.
After all, they had traveled together for some time, sharing rooms and beds along the way. She thought: Xie Ci shouldn’t abandon her.
“He shouldn’t.”
“He won’t!”
When Gu Wan mentioned Yu Manzhen, to prevent her from struggling and causing trouble, she had struck the back of her head, leaving her half‑conscious.
But at that moment, half‑dazed, Yu Manzhen suddenly heard the question. She startled awake and blurted out instinctively. Only after the words escaped did she realize what she’d said, wishing she could bite off her own tongue.
Both Gu Wan and the young man gave her a strange look.
Gu Wan, however, paid the slip no mind—because out of the corner of her eye she saw Xie Ci. After escorting his family onto the official road, he suddenly reined in his horse. With a sharp tug on the reins, he wheeled the steed around. Hooves thundered, mud sprayed, and without hesitation he charged back toward Gu Wan.
Second Sister‑in‑law, riding at full speed, swung down from her horse, dropped to one knee, and snatched up a long hemp rope used by soldiers to bind tents—one of the ropes carried off onto the road by fleeing convicts. She hurled it high: “Little Fourth! Catch—!”
Xie Ci caught it with a backward sweep, never slowing. He jerked the reins; his stallion let out a piercing cry, hooves leaping clear off the ground, plunging straight back into the encirclement!
He was once again the figure Gu Wan had glimpsed at the start—the young general with a silver spear astride his horse, standing guard before his family’s gate, fearless and unyielding. His clothes were muddied, his brow marked by wind and frost, but his face and that reckless, resolute bearing had never changed. He was still guarding—rescuing—the one he believed must be protected with his very life.
Hooves churned the mud, yellow-brown spray bursting like a flower. Xie Ci flung out the long rope with all his strength, shouting, “Yuan-niang—!”
The hemp rope arced through the air, its end dropping neatly above Gu Wan’s head.
Gu Wan laughed. “I don’t know who you are, but thank you. Farewell!” Her hand snapped, pushed hard, and sent Yu Manzhen tumbling down the hillside—straight toward the young man.
Gu Wan stepped back, leaped high, seized the rope, and twisted it around her wrist in one swift motion. A beautiful jump!
Xie Ci roared, his arms straining with all their might, yanking her up. She soared, kicking down a soldier who was swinging a blade at her, then landed squarely in front of Xie Ci on the saddle. He instantly jerked the reins, wheeled the horse, and lashed the whip. She rubbed her aching backside, grinned, and waved back at the men behind her. “Goodbye, brothers—”
The young man caught Yu Manzhen, swung her around, and handed her off to his attendants. The bearded guard scrambled to sheath his blade, while he and another youth carefully supported her from either side, fingertips barely touching.
Though customs were freer here, it was still improper to have too much bodily contact with their master’s woman.
The young man caught Gu Wan’s farewell gesture. He gave a cold snort, his gaze fixing on Xie Ci’s back. Now, without a doubt, he had guessed Xie Ci’s identity. His brows furrowed.
But now, chasing after them was meaningless. A favor ungranted turns into enmity.
“Go back.”
…
When Yu Manzhen awoke, she was already in a guesthouse in Xingzhou.
The young man was named Li Yi, heir of Prince Xiaoshan, who years ago had been swept up in the tailwinds of the “Miliang Rebellion.”
Prince Xiaoshan had his household confiscated and his title stripped, the entire family exiled to the northwest. Later, during the grand sixtieth birthday celebrations of the emperor, when favors were being bestowed upon the clans, none of the candidates pleased him—until the Xiaoshan princely house was dredged up again. A pardon was issued: the fief was not restored, but the princely title was reinstated. By then, Prince Xiaoshan had already passed away, and Li Yi inherited the title.
Raised in the barren northwest, Prince Li Yi was neither extravagant nor arrogant. He did not display the domineering gesture of renting out an entire inn; he simply took as many rooms as needed—clean and tidy, nothing more.
Yu Manzhen awoke on the bed in the inner chamber of one of those rooms. As her senses returned, her face drained of color in shock. How—how could it be? How could Gu Wan possibly still be alive?
She had always feared Gu Wan might have returned as well, for in her previous life she had died by accident, colliding headlong into Gu Wan’s tombstone. She herself had been reborn, and so she dreaded that others might share the same fate—for this was her only advantage!
Now, the capital bustled with prosperity, the mighty Great Wei standing tall. Few would believe that in just a few years, this vast land would be engulfed in a wildfire of war.
The Crown Prince soon passed away. After the Eastern Palace fell, the ailing Emperor also died not long after. It was the Third Prince who ascended the throne, but when he personally led a campaign, he was captured by Beirong. From then on, the fortunes of Great Wei declined precipitously.
Yu Manzhen could be called pitiful, yet also fortunate. After the late Emperor’s death and the new Emperor’s capture, the nation’s borders collapsed, misery spread for a thousand miles, and the Yu family fell into ruin. She was saved by Li Yi, Prince Xiaoshan, and eventually became his concubine. At first, it was only for her peerless beauty. But later, he truly cared for her, and she loved him in return. Yet between them lay too many burdens—so heavy she could scarcely endure, her heart wrung with pain. This man’s ambition was as vast as his talent.
Before Yu Manzhen’s death, Li Yi had already seized the moment, rallied his troops to retreat, crossed the river, and founded the Nan Dynasty, proclaiming himself Emperor. In the end, he made her Empress. Yet she was not truly happy. On the final night of ancestral rites, assassins struck. As she stumbled back in haste, her foot slipped, and she struck her head against the Gu family’s tombstone.
One moment, all was pale with grief—her body laid to rest with imperial honors by the Yangtze, Li Yi himself bearing the coffin. The next, she opened her eyes to find herself once more in the boudoir of her youth, only twenty-eight years of age.
Yu Manzhen wept and laughed, unable to believe it. In her past life, she had known two men as towering as pillars of heaven. One was Li Yi, Prince Xiaoshan—whom she both loved and feared, torn between passion and dread. The other was Xie Ci, a man like a blazing meteor streaking across the sky, a god of war whose brilliance left the world in awe.
For five years, the Xie family’s estate lay confiscated, while flames of war swept across the Central Plains. Out of the dust and turmoil appeared a young man in plain robes, his eyes veiled with white gauze. At first, his eyes were afflicted, and only months later did he remove the gauze. He wore a silver mask that covered the left side of his face. When she dared to ask him why, he was silent for a long while before replying that his face bore scars, and he did not wish to frighten others. His voice was hoarse and unpleasant, seldom used—rumor had it his throat had once been injured. Yet at the moment he saved her from the raging battlefield, she thought his voice was like celestial music. It became a memory she would never forget, never fade. Though he had not saved her alone—he had rescued the entire city of Minzhou and its soldiers and civilians—he would not remember her. To him, she was later only one of her lord’s wives or concubines.
This war god of a man, no less formidable than Li Yi, Yu Manzhen only learned later that he had pledged himself to Prince Xiaoshan, willing to serve at his command, all because of a single small, unintended kindness Li Yi had once shown.
Passing through Tieling, Li Yi happened upon the news that the Li family had all perished by poison. Remembering the loyal sacrifices of Duke Zhongyong’s household, he deliberately ordered his trusted men to help collect and bury the remains, even retrieving the bones of the Xie family who had died before, so they could be interred together. It was only later revealed—he was none other than Xie Ci!
Yu Manzhen gasped heavily, stunned for a long moment before hastily throwing off her quilt and sitting up.
By the window stood a young man in a pale robe with arrow-sleeves and a round collar. Tall and handsome, his bearing straight and proud, he turned at the sound, sword-like brows furrowing. “Didn’t I tell you to stay in the grove? Why did you run here?”
He looked her up and down. “Why do you seem so flustered?”
This striking young man was Li Yi, Prince Xiaoshan. His features were refined, his manner elegant and composed—but Yu Manzhen knew better. She knew just how deep this man’s schemes ran, how formidable he truly was.
She had been reborn before her family’s decline. Turning it over in her mind, she realized that for her own survival, she could not avoid this man. Yet this time, she refused to be trapped in the inner chambers, envied and plotted against, waiting for his occasional favor.
Using the foresight of her past life, Yu Manzhen successfully crossed paths with Li Yi, drew his attention, and became Princess Consort Xiaoshan. But this time, she would not remain a cloistered wife. She would be his strategist—his indispensable right hand.
Everything had gone smoothly. In her previous life, Yu Manzhen had stayed close by his side, and her vision had sharpened through experience. Most recently, she had brought up the Xie family. She wanted Li Yi to rescue them ahead of time—living people were far more useful than graves and memorial tablets. That way, the rift between them later could be avoided, and he would be delayed, held back by caution. Perhaps then, he would not die! And if Li Yi unified north and south, he would no longer be burdened with endless worries.
As for her, she would become the one and only Mother of the Nation—a towering tree, not the clinging vine she had been in her past life.
But who could have foreseen that Xie Ci’s prison break would startle Yu Manzhen? Had he escaped in her previous life as well?
Back then, she hadn’t cared about such matters. That winter she had been tucked away in the hot spring villa, blissfully unaware. It must have been so. Yet today, she suddenly saw Gu Wan—Gu Wan together with Xie Ci- storming the prison to save people!
This had never happened in her past life. How could Gu Wan still be alive? How could this be!
Yu Manzhen was horrified. After rebirth, she had feared her own fortune might interfere with Gu Wan’s fate. Time and again she had visited the Xie household before disaster struck, casually painting the horrors of exile, hinting—half in jest, half in earnest—that death might be preferable.
In fact, she had secretly spent a fortune to track down Gu Wan’s personal maid, confirming that Gu Wan had indeed thrown herself into a well. There was no way she could still be alive.
So, when Yu Manzhen appeared today, the shock was nothing short of overwhelming. Her thoughts were in chaos, but above all was fear—terror and dread tangled together. The knowledge she carried from rebirth was her only card for survival.
Yu Manzhen had been harmed in her past life, but she had struck back as well. Another favored concubine of Li Yi, Yun Ji, had died, and even the princess consort was gone. Once certain deeds were done, the bottom line was shattered. Kindness could not keep one alive.
Yu Manzhen did not regret it, yet panic seized her—how could things turn out like this?! But she knew all too well how sharp the man before her was. Digging her nails hard into the back of her thigh, the stab of pain helped her suppress the panic. Forcing herself into composure, she said steadily: “It was my mistake. I worried for you all. I won’t do it again.”
Li Yi allowed his subordinates to err, but never to quibble or twist words once they had erred.
Yu Manzhen admitted fault at once, lowering her lashes: “I was standing behind the slope. I never thought that woman’s eyes would be so keen.”
This outing had been somewhat beyond Li Yi’s expectations. He had set out in secret, with only a few attendants, and had not foreseen such a situation arising.
He recalled his bout with Xie Ci and couldn’t help but show admiration:
“Strength like a thousand pounds—truly formidable!” His own palm had gone numb from the shock.
Xie Ci was barely sixteen, yet he matched him blow for blow.
Years ago, Xie Xinzhong had proudly declared that his fourth son resembled their illustrious ancestor, the founding general Xie Guanshan—renowned for his strength to move mountains and his peerless spirit. Given time, he said, the boy would far surpass himself. It seems those words were no exaggeration.
When Li Yi followed Yu Manzhen’s advice to head north, his expectations had been modest. After all, Xie Ci was only sixteen now, and just fifteen when the Xie family fell. But at this moment, he felt genuine regret.
“What a pity!”
Li Yi glanced at Yu Manzhen, still finding her behavior these past two days somewhat questionable. Yet her insights were sharp, her thoughts meticulous, and her long residence in the capital had given her access to many hidden tidings. So he held his tongue.
He lowered his gaze in thought, while Yu Manzhen quietly exhaled in relief. She knew she had slipped, but fortunately no one could imagine the truth of rebirth—this hurdle was passed.
She cast him a sidelong glance and, after a pause, asked with studied casualness: “How is the Xie family? Did they all get away?”
Li Yi nodded. “Mm, though two children were hurt.”
One had been stabbed in the back by a soldier’s spear—the wound looked deep.
Li Yi truly thought it was already a blessing. After all, among such a large household, there were the weak, the sick, and the very young. Only two children were injured—even if they did not survive—was, in his eyes, remarkably fortunate.