Huan Guanbin heard the beauty’s cold words and realized she was displeased about exchanging the carriage for an ox cart. He explained, “Now we must travel by land to leave Jingzhou. Only when we reach the right place can we board a boat to Chizhou. A carriage is too conspicuous; an ox cart makes it easier to slip out of the city.”
Smelling the earthy scent clinging to her body, the same as the straw mat beneath her, Mi Yao guessed that during the day, Huan Guanbin must have hidden her in damp hay to avoid notice.
Thinking of this, Mi Yao’s expression darkened.
“Leaving Jingzhou for Chizhou—so what? Do you have high-ranking relatives there? Or are you secretly a great merchant, with enterprises spread across Daxing, dozens of shops in Chizhou to feed and clothe you?”
“Trade is a lowly pursuit. How could you think I would be a merchant…”
“That’s because I never imagined anyone could be so brainless. My aunt is only a county magistrate’s wife. How long do you plan to freeload off her? You have neither talent nor family backing. Your mind is waterlogged if you think I’m devoted to you, that you’re the only one for me. Can’t you consider how you’ll survive in Chizhou?”
Her throat felt raw, but Mi Yao grew more furious as she spoke. “What I eat, drink, wear, the ointments I use—can you afford them? Did you ask my consent before abducting me?”
“For half a year, I avoided you, returned every gift you sent. What don’t you understand? Yes, I said marrying was for your own good. And it was—for your own good. You’re a pauper. How could you deserve the favor of a beauty like me? Between us lies a chasm. You should have been grateful for a few days of fortune, yet you dream of possessing me for life.”
“Huhu…” Huan Guanbin was not utterly shameless. Reflecting on her words from earlier, he realized he might have been deluding himself. Perhaps Mi Yao truly no longer saw him as the one who understood her best.
His plan to “rescue” her had been tinged with self-indulgence. Now, hearing her every cutting word, his eyes brimmed with tears.
He was no villain—only from a once-prestigious family, raised to uphold its dignity. Mi Yao had once loved his aloofness, unlike common men. Who knew that now she would scorn him for it.
Seeing him weep, Mi Yao felt no pity—only greater impatience.
“If you cannot provide for me, then have the sense to let me go, instead of crying helplessly. Only a three-year-old clings to what isn’t his, wailing endlessly.”
“Huhu, do you truly wish to marry Xiao Xu?” Huan Guanbin’s face was streaked with tears as he forced himself to ask again.
“Why not?”
The air grew colder. Mi Yao lifted her gaze—snow was falling.
White flakes drifted from the black heavens, light as feathers. Apart from the ox’s hooves crunching on the road, only the soft patter of snow could be heard.
“If not for you, I would now be lying on a soft couch in the posthouse, brazier glowing, raising the window lattice to admire the first snow since arriving in Jingzhou.” She turned to Huan Guanbin. “Send me back. Or kill me. I’d rather die than suffer at your side.”
Huan Guanbin sobbed uncontrollably, crying for a long while before climbing down to speak with the driver.
But returning to the posthouse was no simple matter. The bitter cold made the ox reluctant to move. Even reaching the planned farmhouse lodging was difficult, let alone returning to the city inn.
“You see? Even in something as grave as abducting me, you made no plan—only cry like a child. Wait—an earthquake?”
Mi Yao had just begun scolding when she felt the ground tremble. She froze, staring into the distance. In an instant, the dark horizon split open, leaping flames stretching like a fiery serpent across the land.
The enemy had clearly spotted her before she spotted them.
The fiery serpent drew near. Dozens of steeds with dragon-like heads and bulging eyes, hooves pounding like thunder, encircled the ox cart. Upon them sat soldiers clad in black armor, faces hidden behind wind-shielding masks, sabers at their waists. Silent as envoys from hell, they stood coldly around.
At the front, astride his horse, was a man wearing a golden crown inlaid with sapphires. The lower half of his face was covered by a leather mask. His amber eyes, gleaming in the orange-red glow, were like a golden python disturbed from winter slumber—long, narrow, and icy. His gaze swept over the terrified driver and the delicate young man beside the cart, then settled on the tattered canopy that failed to conceal a skirt of osmanthus-pink satin embroidered with blossoms. He spoke: “Daughter of the Yu clan?”
“You… you are Jian’nan troops?” Huan Guanbin had not expected the pursuers to catch up so quickly. Seeing the embroidered insignia on their armor, he stepped protectively in front of Mi Yao.
“Yes.”
The man’s eyes met Huan Guanbin’s, catching sight of the tear stains at his lashes. He sneered: “So you are the one trying to spirit away my woman?”
“You are Xiao Xu!”
Shaken by the oppressive aura of the Jian’nan army, Huan Guanbin trembled, yet still shielded Mi Yao, glaring furiously at Xiao Xu. “You are nothing but a brute who seized rank in chaotic times, spattered with mud and blood. How dare you covet Huhu!”
“Huhu?” Xiao Xu savored the intimate name. As Huan Guanbin cried out, he drew his sword. A flash of cold steel—its edge sliced through the canopy above their heads, tearing it open.
Behind Huan Guanbin sat the woman. Her skin was whiter and smoother than the white fox fur draped over her shoulders, like snow, like ice. Her small face was half-bared to the winter wind, cheeks tinged with a faint blush like the loveliest hibiscus of Shu. Beneath butterfly-like lashes, her apricot eyes shimmered clear as autumn waters. Indeed, she was the number one beauty of Jiangnan. Beautiful beyond dispute.
As Xiao Xu’s brown eyes roved over Mi Yao without restraint, Huan Guanbin longed to snatch the blade and cut the man down from his horse.
“You barbaric, unreasonable savage! You and Huhu are worlds apart. For Huhu to marry you would be no different than the pure moon being stained with filth! Yao would rather die than wed a butcher like you!”
Hearing Huan Guanbin speak on her behalf, Mi Yao was about to reply when the man on horseback let out a mocking laugh. His deep, magnetic voice, muffled by the leather mask, carried a heavy, dark resonance.
Seeing the beauty shivering atop damp straw, lifting her gaze toward him, Xiao Xu did not look away. Their eyes met, and he sneered: “Fools do not understand—wealth and power are the finest nourishment for a beauty.”
Only piles of gold and silver can sustain delicate fragrance in the bitter cold, keeping a rare blossom tender and radiant. A fragile flower in this broken ox cart can draw no sustenance—it will only wither away.
“You—!” Huan Guanbin was about to retort when a soft, gentle voice came from behind him: “Xiao Lang, you speak truly.”
Mi Yao raised her hand toward Xiao Xu. “I was abducted by a villain, but fortunately, you have come to rescue me.”
“Huhu!” Huan Guanbin’s eyes brimmed with tears once more. “You have seen this brute with your own eyes, and still you would marry him?”
“Xiao Lang is imposing and handsome. The sight of him delights me all the more. Why would I not wish to marry him?”
This was not Mi Yao’s invention. In the book, the male lead was never described as handsome—only as broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted, towering eight zhang tall, with a face the original heroine disliked and found repulsive. Yet that very face commanded the loyalty of his men.
Such descriptions had led her to imagine Xiao Xu as a square-faced, thick-browed man with a bristling beard. But seeing him now, he was far better than she had expected. His skin was neither pale nor dark, somewhere between wheat-gold and ivory. His forehead was broad, his phoenix eyes tilted upward, sharp as a finely carved blade, brimming with edge. Though the lower half of his face was hidden by leather, it was clear he bore no resemblance to a coarse, square-jawed visage.
Unlike the era’s favored ideal of delicate beauty, Xiao Xu’s features were deep-set, his appearance brimming with sharp aggression. No wonder the original heroine, with her taste for the refined elegance of Wei-Jin charm, would dislike him.
Mi Yao’s hand, exposed to the cold wind, quickly broke out in goosebumps. She was about to lower it when Xiao Xu urged his horse forward and clasped her hand. His broad, rough palm was like a furnace, sending a shiver of warmth through her.
Mi Yao marveled at the heat of his grasp, while Xiao Xu was struck by the sensation in his own. Her hand was like jade, soft as a flower petal—so delicate it felt as though a firmer hold might melt it like snow. His calloused fingertips brushed over the tender skin a few times, and fearing he might crush her hand, he slid his other arm around her waist and lifted her onto his horse. She was light as a feathered robe, warm and fragrant like musk. Xiao Xu narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip on her waist.
Her view suddenly rose higher. Mi Yao leaned back against him without resistance. Clad in black sable, strong and broad, his body radiated heat several degrees warmer than hers. Only pressed close to him did she feel she might survive the night.
“Kill me or cut me down—do as you please!”
Seeing Mi Yao nestled against Xiao Xu, Huan Guanbin’s heart twisted like a blade. He knew he could not escape Xiao Xu’s reckoning tonight, so he spoke out, hoping for a swift end.
“What does Huhu think?” The deep voice brushed her ear, carrying not only its vibration but also damp warmth.
Mi Yao shivered unconsciously. Xiao Xu thought she was betraying her composure before her lover, but her tone was weary as she said: “Since Xiao Lang has already declared that he was abducted with your woman, then he has offended you. Naturally, it is for you to decide how to deal with him. I will follow your judgment.”
She had no intention of pleading for Huan Guanbin.
In the book, once the male lead found the heroine, he did not kill Huan Guanbin. Instead, he slashed his face in front of her. The heroine fainted, believing he had killed Huan Guanbin, and from then on harbored thoughts of revenge. Later, when she learned Huan Guanbin lived, it was too late—she could not bring back the child she had lost.
Mi Yao cared little for whatever feelings the original heroine had for Huan Guanbin. She was here on holiday. Whether Xiao Xu scarred his face or killed him meant nothing to her. After all, they were only paper characters. As long as her enjoyment was not disturbed, who cared about their fate?
So she thought. Then a flash of steel—blood beads scattered into the falling snow. As Huan Guanbin screamed, Mi Yao touched the warm droplets splashed on her face, staring dazedly at the crimson staining her hand. Whether from fright or from the cold seeping into her bones after too long in the snow, her head drooped and she fainted.
Feeling her body go limp in his arms, Xiao Xu’s lips curved faintly. He spurred his horse to turn back, ignoring the man kneeling in the snow, his face ruined, wailing in agony, tears streaming like rain.