The court physician did not answer her request. He merely glanced at her once, then walked away.
Outside the tent, no soldiers entered again. Chen Danzhu sensed the guards had been replaced—no longer Li Liang’s personal men.
She slowly sat down inside the tent. Though she appeared calm, her body was taut with tension. What of Chen Qiang and the others? Had they been captured or killed? And Chen Li, holding the command token—surely he was in danger too. The envoy from the court had already mentioned the token. They knew everything.
Ah… she had no plan at all. She had awakened, rushed here, and killed Li Liang. But what to do afterward? She had not thought it through. Perhaps she should have told her sister or father? Yet both trusted Li Liang deeply. She had neither proof nor time to persuade them. Her gaze drifted to the military report on the desk, its words now obscured by the names of herbs scrawled across it.
“Attend me,” she called aloud.
A soldier entered. As expected, a stranger—no longer one of Li Liang’s guards. He wore Wu’s uniform, but his heart was surely elsewhere. Expressionless, he saluted. “What are your orders, Second Miss?”
Chen Danzhu handed him the report. “Prepare these medicines. And bring breakfast.”
The soldier accepted it and left.
So be it. She would stop thinking too much. She turned to the mirror and continued combing her hair.
Meanwhile, in another tent, fragrant steam rose. A screen stood before the desk, casting a shadow over the figure seated behind it, eating.
“She asked to see me?” The hoarse, aged voice was muffled by food. “How does she know I am here?”
The physician who had left Chen Danzhu stood outside the screen, eyes full of doubt. “Indeed, I do not know. Even Li Liang was unaware of your presence, my lord. How could Chen Lietu know?”
The voice behind the screen paused, then resumed with a slurping sound. “Li Liang does not know. Chen Lietu does not know. But she may know. One cannot judge by others.”
The sounds grew indistinct. The physician was about to ask more when the eating stopped, and the voice grew clear again. “What is Second Miss Chen doing now?”
The physician turned to ask outside. A guard entered. “Second Miss Chen is washing, dressing, combing her hair, then eating. She is now taking medicine—just prescribed.”
The physician blinked. She had actually taken the herbs he wrote. Bold indeed.
The man behind the screen laughed hoarsely, stuffed the last bites into his mouth, and said: “Bring her here. I will meet this Second Miss Chen.”
When soldiers came to escort her, Chen Danzhu felt a flicker of nerves. Yet no ambush awaited outside. The camp was orderly. Passing soldiers smiled at her, some even greeted her: “Miss Chen, you are well again.”
She sighed inwardly. The camp’s calm was no credit to her.
Two guards led her through the camp. It was not an arrest, but she did not mistake it for protection. Nor did she cry for help. The man who summoned her was confident—she could stir no storm.
She looked carefully along the way. No sign of Chen Qiang or the others. Another sigh.
At last, the guards stopped before a tent. “Second Miss, please enter.”
Was this a new prison? Would she die here? Her thoughts swirled, but her steps did not falter. She entered.
At once, she saw the screen. Behind it came the sound of water splashing. A shadow showed one man holding a basin, another washing.
A figure before the screen bowed. “Second Miss Chen.”
Chen Danzhu fixed her gaze on him. “Doctor, what matter could not be spoken in the other tent?”
The physician had not yet spoken when the soldier holding the basin stepped out, pulling the screen aside. Behind it sat a man, adjusting the robe draped over his armor. “Second Miss Chen wished to see me, did she not?”
Chen Danzhu froze. The man’s build was much like Li Liang’s, cloaked in a black mantle, heavy armor beneath. When he lifted his head, beneath the helmet was a face of iron— She gasped, hand flying to her mouth to stifle the cry, retreating a step, eyes wide. It was not a human face at all, but a mask of copper or iron, covering him entirely, with slits for eyes, nose, and mouth. At first glance, it was terrifying; at second, even more so.
“You!” Chen Danzhu stammered. “The Iron-Faced General?”
How was he here? She did not speak the thought aloud, but the general understood. His mask betrayed no expression, yet his hoarse voice carried surprise. “You did not know I was here?” He turned to the physician, who faltered. “Second Miss Chen, did you not ask to see the General?”
Chen Danzhu’s heart churned. She knew that in her past life, the Iron-Faced General had commanded the campaign against Wu—and not only him, but the emperor himself had also come in person. That was why she had asked to see him. But she had never imagined meeting him here, in this camp, so near the central tent. She had thought she would have to ride to the river, cross by boat, and enter the opposing camp. Yet here, in Wu’s own encampment, she now stood before the commander of the court’s hundreds of thousands. Her heart thundered, ears ringing, breath caught between despair and disbelief.
The physician’s face fell. He realized his mistake—he had been tricked. Second Miss Chen had not known the general was here. His own carelessness had betrayed it.
Chen Danzhu read his expression and understood. But she would never admit it. The less they could see through her, the greater her chance.
“I did ask to see the General,” she said calmly, studying the iron mask. “So the General truly wears iron upon his face.”
The general saw through her lie but did not press it. “My face was ruined. Without the mask, I would frighten the world.”
Chen Danzhu replied, “It is not your visage that frightens the world, but your victories. Your scars are marks of glory.”
Was she flattering him? The Iron-Faced General laughed. “Second Miss Chen is charming indeed. No wonder the Grand Tutor treasures you.”
Chen Danzhu sat gracefully. “Even if I were not charming, I would still be my father’s treasure.”
The general chuckled again, gazing at her bright, springlike presence. “So if word of your death reaches him, the Grand Tutor will grieve deeply,” he said. “He and I are of similar age. Unlike him, I have no children. I think—if I had a daughter like you, losing her would be agony.”
Chen Danzhu looked at the iron mask, the gray hair, the dark eyes behind the slits, the rasping voice like a whetstone. He was terrifying.
With innocent candor, she said, “Then the General should simply not kill me.”
The general’s gaze fell upon the military reports on the desk.
“Second Miss Chen, Prince Wu has rebelled. His subjects are guilty. And you—by killing Li Liang, you have ruined my campaign. Do you know how many soldiers will die because of it?” His voice was hoarse, unreadable. “Why should I not kill you? Because you are prettier than my men?” He raised his head. From the mask’s dark hollows, his eyes fixed upon her.
“To use Chen Lietu’s beloved jewel as a sacrifice for my fallen soldiers—would that not be fitting?”