12: Riding together
Deep within the misty greenery, scattered starlight bathed the forest in a hazy, ethereal glow.
After the banquet, Su Zhuoguang didn’t return to his room. Instead, he took a solitary stroll through the eastern woods behind the temporary palace to clear his mind.
Just then, Ji Chen appeared, leading his horse, Yefeng, and complaining that the animal had thrown a fit, kicking and injuring several palace attendants in the stables. Over such minor matters, the attendants dared not approach Su Zhuoguang directly, so they sought out Ji Chen instead. Thus, Ji Chen dragged Fenglai along, searching the entire palace for his master.
Su Zhuoguang found it amusing—they really had his temperament figured out.
In the capital, it was well-known that Young General Su was not an easy man to deal with. Ji Chen, however, was quite the opposite—amiable and extremely approachable. As it happened, Su Zhuoguang and Ji Chen shared some camaraderie, so seeking Ji Chen’s help was far more practical than approaching the cold and ruthless young Young General himself.
As a supervisory censor, most officials tended to avoid Ji Chen. Yet, with his silver tongue and effortless charm, he moved seamlessly among nobles and officials. Coupled with his carefree, dashing appearance, people often forgot his official duties, mistaking him for an idle young noble who had secured his position solely through family connections.
Su Zhuoguang thought to himself, they couldn’t be more wrong. Many of the ironclad cases piled up in the Censorate, drenched in blood and laden with testimonies, had been personally tried by Ji Chen alone. But those who truly understood his nature had all been sent to the execution ground.
Ji Chen took pleasure in playing the role of the frivolous playboy in their eyes. Perhaps one day, when he finally peeled off their masks, they would realize exactly what kind of man Ji Chen truly was.
“If you tie Yefeng up in those woods, aren’t you afraid he’ll uproot the trees?”
Where the forest thinned and the river flowed clear and gentle, Ji Chen lay leisurely on the grassy bank, one arm pillowing his head as he glanced at Su Zhuoguang standing silently by the river’s edge and posed his question.
It had taken immense effort to bring the fiercely temperamental Yefeng before Su Zhuoguang. Little did he expect that Su Zhuoguang, annoyed by the noise he and the horse had made along the way, would simply tie the reins and vanish without a trace. Following the direction Su Zhuoguang had gone, Ji Chen eventually arrived at this riverbank on the edge of the eastern woods.
“Good, let him wear down his hooves,” Su Zhuoguang replied, faintly hearing Yefeng’s restless whinnies from the woods. Ji Chen’s estimate was likely conservative—the area was probably already a mess.
Ji Chen shook the mud from his clothes, his expression displeased. “I mean it, Fubai. You really should do something about your Yefeng. Just now, when I was leading him over, he kicked mud all over me.”
“You were too noisy,” Su Zhuoguang replied.
Ji Chen was long accustomed to this attitude from him. Instead of retorting, he closed his eyes and let the gentle breeze brush against his face.
After a long pause, he continued, “This really is a nice spot. No annoying old men in sight.”
“I saw you drinking quite merrily with them at the banquet,” Su Zhuoguang remarked, turning his gaze back toward the woods. The restless sounds from Yefeng had ceased, suggesting the horse had probably tired itself out.
“How can that compare to the freedom here? Lying on mossy stones with clouds as my pillow, plucking plum blossoms to scent the sky’s edge… The clouds have no mind of their own, and I am mindless as the clouds…” Ji Chen recited leisurely, reaching into the empty air as if mimicking the poem’s imagery of plucking blossoms and gazing at clouds, a look of contentment on his face.
Hearing no response from the other, Ji Chen continued on his own, “Fubai, aren’t you also hiding alone in this serene place?”
After a moment, he sighed softly. “But I’m still a worldly man, after all. At least when it comes to beautiful women and fine wine, I find it hard to resist. Not like you, so young and yet…”
“What about me?” Su Zhuoguang finally responded.
Ji Chen shifted to a more comfortable position. “If it weren’t for the temporary peace in the northwestern war, Grand General Su would probably worry you’d become a monk.”
“Oh.”
Ji Chen frowned. “What do you mean, ‘oh’? Isn’t that true?”
Su Zhuoguang replied seriously, “I have taken too many lives. I am not suited for Buddhism.”
Ji Chen: “…”
Was that really what I meant? He’s doing this on purpose, isn’t he?
“How boring,” Ji Chen muttered. He supposed it was a good thing he had developed a thick skin from dealing with those old officials, or else someone like Su Zhuoguang would have driven him to a fight long ago.
Of course, he also knew he wouldn’t stand a chance against Su Zhuoguang.
“Fubai, I heard you’ve been having Fenglai keep an eye on people around the Eastern Palace. You’ve never interfered with court affairs before—why are you getting involved with the Crown Prince now? The imperial lineage is thin, and His Majesty has only the Crown Prince as his legitimate son. There’s no one else in the royal family…” As Ji Chen spoke, he opened his eyes to find the river surface calm, the moon’s reflection sinking like a piece of jade—and no one else in sight.
Ji Chen sprang to his feet, all composure forgotten, and glared toward the nearby woods, gritting his teeth. “Su Fubai! When will you ever fix this habit of leaving without a word!”
Upon entering the woods, Su Zhuoguang sensed that someone else was near Yefeng’s location.
In the distance, a lantern stood in the grassy clearing, its faint light casting a gentle glow over a young girl.
The forest breeze swept through the shadows of the branches, dappling the ground with patches of light like frost, settling over her violet-hued riding attire with narrow sleeves. At that moment, the girl stood quietly before the spirited horse, her hand reaching out tentatively with a hint of nervousness. Yet, as her fingers brushed the white mane, her eyes lit up with delight. The strong, proud horse lowered its head slightly, letting out a soft whinny, allowing her to gently stroke its fur.
Bad-tempered? Fiercer than a bull?
If it weren’t for the saddle he had personally crafted, Su Zhuoguang might have thought he had mistaken the horse.
Ji Chen really ought to see this with his own eyes—what has become of the so-called fierce horse now.
But then again, Su Zhuoguang reconsidered. Forget it. Given how Ji Chen sings praises of the capital’s most beautiful woman, he’d probably spin some extravagant tale about how even a fierce horse cannot resist a beauty.
“Young General… Young General Su?”
When Qiao Shili saw that the newcomer was Su Zhuoguang, she instinctively turned her back, a wave of guilt washing over her.
No, I still can’t face him.
This was the first time she had seen Su Zhuoguang since that night she kissed him. The memory of that embarrassing incident remained vivid in her mind. Even though she had been the one to initiate the kiss, it had been her first kiss. Now, meeting him again unexpectedly, with him about to become her riding instructor—she was completely unprepared.
For the moment, Qiao Shili found it hard to accept.
Now, she was caught in a dilemma.
No matter what, Su Zhuoguang was the instructor Zhou Shu had specifically found for her. How could she refuse Zhou Shu’s kindness? Zhou Shu had gone out of her way to gift her riding attire and find a skilled teacher, even going as far as inviting Su Zhuoguang himself. If she rejected him now just because she couldn’t bring herself to face him, wouldn’t she be wasting Zhou Shu’s sincere efforts?
After a moment, Qiao Shili gritted her teeth. What’s the big deal about learning to ride a horse?
I’ve already died once before. What haven’t I seen? Would Su Zhuoguang really hold a grudge and take it out on me?
Behind her, Su Zhuoguang found the situation puzzling.
Why is she always afraid of me? And she seemed genuinely surprised to see me. Didn’t she come to the eastern woods at night to approach my horse on her own? The saddle bears the Su family emblem—surely she must have recognized it?
In reality, things were slightly different from what Su Zhuoguang imagined.
When Qiao Shili saw the magnificent horse in the eastern woods, she immediately assumed it was part of Zhou Shu’s arrangements. Her focus was entirely on how to approach and interact with the horse. Her gaze never left the horse’s head and neck, and she didn’t spare a glance at the saddle, let alone the palm-sized Su family emblem on it.
Having convinced and steeled herself, Qiao Shili turned around and forced a smile. “Young General Su, could you teach me how to ride a horse…?”
As she spoke, her voice grew increasingly faint due to lingering fear, nearly inaudible by the end. The final word, “please,” was swallowed by the wind.
Thus, what was meant as a polite inquiry sounded to Su Zhuoguang like a plea for him to teach her how to ride.
However, what puzzled Su Zhuoguang was why, over something as simple as learning to ride a horse, the look in her eyes held a sense of grim determination, as if she were marching to her doom. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she held some misunderstanding about him, but he couldn’t quite figure out where things had gone wrong.
After pondering for a moment, Su Zhuoguang spoke to the girl leaning against the horse. “Miss Qiao, this is just learning to ride a horse, not going to war.”
Qiao Shili froze.
He thinks I’m afraid of riding? He actually underestimates me like that? Isn’t it him I’m afraid of facing?
Of course, Su Zhuoguang had no idea what she was thinking. He had already stepped closer to untie the rope from the tree trunk. Freed from its restraints, Yefeng let out an excited whinny, raising its head and prancing, startling the moonlight shimmering through the treetops.
He had anticipated this reaction and expected the delicate, frail-looking girl beside him to be frightened out of her wits. Instead, her eyes sparkled like starlight as she watched Yefeng intently, a flicker of excitement crossing her face.
Qiao Shili remembered what Zhou Shu had told her—a truly excellent horse wasn’t necessarily one that was submissive and mild-tempered. On the contrary, throughout history, many men had favored spirited horses. Though difficult to tame, these horses were bold and fearless, alert and lively, more receptive to new experiences, capable of learning more, and galloping freely across the wilderness alongside their riders.
Although such spirited steeds were typically preferred by courageous men, and ordinary people often favored gentler, more docile horses when taming them, this didn’t diminish Qiao Shili’s fascination with fierce horses.
It was said that Su Zhuoguang had once tamed a spirited horse named Yefeng. The details of how he accomplished this remained unknown to Qiao Shili, but everyone knew that Yefeng had galloped across the northwestern battlefields, stirring sand and dust, drinking blood and gnawing bones. Such a majestic creature was truly an outstanding hero among horses, though Qiao Shili had never had the fortune to see it for herself.
Now, witnessing the proud demeanor of the horse before her, its head held high under the clear moonlight, its handsome silhouette a stark contrast to the gentle, affectionate creature she had interacted with earlier—Qiao Shili’s heart raced with excitement instead of fear.
Was this its true nature? Majestic and awe-inspiring.
Su Zhuoguang skillfully mounted the saddle. “Get on.”
Qiao Shili snapped out of her admiration for the horse and was still figuring out how to climb onto its back when she felt a firm grip on the back of her neck. In the blink of an eye, she was lifted onto the horse by Su Zhuoguang.
Qiao Shili: “…”
Is he treating me like a cat being carried by the scruff of its neck?
Her view was now elevated above the ground, and the night breeze brushed past, cooling the lingering heat of the day.
Qiao Shili pushed aside her annoyance with him. The novelty of riding a horse filled her with a mix of nervousness and joy, momentarily making her forget that there was a man seated closely behind her.
“Hyah.”
Su Zhuoguang gently nudged the horse’s belly with his heels, and Yefeng began to move.
Immediately, Qiao Shili was thrown backward into Su Zhuoguang’s embrace by the force. She hastily grabbed the reins, only then noticing the warm chest pressed against her back. It dawned on her that their current position was perhaps a bit too intimate.
“Focus,” Su Zhuoguang reminded her.
“Relax, don’t squeeze your legs so tightly. And your hands—loosen the reins a bit.”
“Keep your eyes forward. Don’t look down—do you want to crash into a tree?”
“Loosening the reins doesn’t mean letting go entirely. Do you want the horse to run down the mountain on its own?”
…
Su Zhuoguang proved to be a strict and responsible instructor. Qiao Shili took his words to heart, practicing earnestly over and over again.
However, for a beginner like her, this horse was clearly too difficult to handle.
For instance, whenever Qiao Shili didn’t hold the reins firmly enough, the horse would gleefully dash to the side, leaving her clutching Su Zhuoguang’s arm in panic, unwilling to let go;
Or, just when she thought she had the direction under control with the reins, the horse would suddenly grow excited at something and pick up speed, its hooves pounding against the ground, making Qiao Shili’s heart leap into her throat.
Still, she wasn’t overly frightened, as Su Zhuoguang was behind her, ensuring she wouldn’t crash into a tree or fall off the horse.
But before long, the inside of her thighs began to ache unbearably from the friction. She wanted to ask to stop, but seeing Su Zhuoguang’s stern, unsmiling expression, she swallowed her words.
I can’t let him underestimate me.
“Yefeng seems to be in a rather good mood tonight,” Su Zhuoguang remarked suddenly.
“Yefeng?” Qiao Shili repeated blankly. “Where?”
Su Zhuoguang: “…The one we’re sitting on.”
The one we’re sitting on? This is… Yefeng? This is Yefeng?
Qiao Shili’s mind went blank for a moment. Before she could fully process this misunderstanding, a soft cough echoed from the shadows of the trees.
A man’s voice rang out, “Fubai, you abandoned me for a secret rendezvous!”
**