Two more days passed, and the cold wind grew increasingly bitter.
Early one morning, Xiao Xingcang set out with the nanny toward Gu Qinglu’s courtyard.
Glancing at the sun beneath the eaves, the nanny remarked that at this hour, Gu Qinglu might not even be awake yet.
But Xiao Xingcang was determined to verify something and insisted on coming.
As they neared the corridor, movement stirred within the archway.
The sparrows that had been resting quietly suddenly spread their wings and flew up, heading straight for the wall by the arch.
They chirped noisily without pause.
Xiao Xingcang’s pitch-black eyes shifted. If his guess was correct, these sparrows were acting as her sentries, warning her of visitors.
Why they had attacked Yuan Ziheng a few days earlier—he still hadn’t figured that out.
Reaching the outside of the archway, master and servant halted together, their eyes widening as they looked into the courtyard.
The nanny had never imagined Gu Qinglu would be up so early—let alone practicing with a blade.
It truly caught her off guard.
On ordinary days, she worried Gu Qinglu might go hungry and tried to coax her into getting up to eat before sleeping again, yet she could never rouse her.
The nanny lifted her head to check the sun’s position.
That couldn’t be wrong…
Xiao Xingcang watched as Gu Qinglu swung her saber—slashing downward, leaping and cutting horizontally, drawing the blade left and right.
Every move was polished and practiced. Only years of relentless training could result in such fluid, seamless motion.
Aside from lacking a bit of raw strength, there was nothing to criticize.
Seeing her like this only deepened Xiao Xingcang’s already-growing curiosity.
Each time he thought he had seen through her, she presented him with yet another mystery.
Where had things gone wrong—how could a foolish little girl become what she was now?
The woman practicing in the courtyard gradually drew her movements to a close.
She had long since noticed the people standing outside the archway.
But martial practice required a proper beginning and end—just like her way of doing things. She never abandoned something halfway through.
Once she fully stopped, the nanny hurried over with a handkerchief to wipe her face.
“Princess Consort, you must be tired. Here, wipe off the sweat. I’ll go prepare water. For breakfast, how about warm milk and meat cakes?”
Gu Qinglu squatted slightly to accommodate her, letting the nanny dab away the sweat.
At the mention of milk, she frowned.“Do I really have to drink milk? It smells too strong.”
The nanny nodded and beckoned to the tea-serving maids. Two quick-handed girls immediately moved a table into the courtyard.
“This old servant will prepare breakfast. Your Highness and Princess Consort may have some refreshments and discuss matters first.”
After bowing, the nanny led the maids away again.
Leaning her long saber against the edge of the table, Gu Qinglu sat back in a round-backed chair and poured herself a cup of tea, taking a sip.
“So—can we leave the residence and go into the mountains now?”
Xiao Xingcang didn’t sit right away. With his hands clasped behind his back, he nodded and gave a low hum of assent.
His gaze lingered on her, dark eyes flickering.
Within this courtyard, she looked utterly at ease, every inch the master of the place.
Yet at times, her gaze drifted as if she were merely a passerby—an outsider.
Take the incident with Yuan Ziheng, for instance.
She hadn’t been deliberately polite or cold. It was as though the people inside this residence, and those outside it, were all just fleeting encounters.
Once he recovered, there would be no further intersections.
His gaze was too intense, prompting her to turn her head.
“Are you sizing me up?”
The corner of Xiao Xingcang’s mouth lifted slightly. He tucked the hem of his dark robe aside and sat down.
“Yes.”
His honesty was almost excessive. After these days together, he had more or less grasped her temperament.
She preferred dealing with sincere people.
Even with the nanny—though Gu Qinglu smiled at her—there was still a quiet distance in her heart.
The nanny’s kindness toward her stemmed from him.
All of this—Gu Qinglu sensed clearly.
She raised her teacup and took another sip, tilting her head to look at him. Her eyes curved into a smile, but she said nothing.
She knew Xiao Xingcang was puzzled by her changes. Sometimes, she herself found them puzzling—almost frightening.
Once the poison within him was completely cleared, perhaps she would tell him everything.
In the morning light, he looked at her as well—the woman’s almond-shaped eyes lively and sly.
She had already made her stance clear. No matter how great his doubts were, he wouldn’t press her for answers.
All he could do was wait—perhaps one day, she would unravel the mystery for him herself.
After a brief moment of eye contact, Xiao Xingcang lowered his gaze.
“After breakfast, go to the front courtyard and check the supplies. See what’s missing and replenish it today. We can set out tomorrow.”
Gu Qinglu had originally planned to simply have him assign people to follow her for protection.
She hadn’t expected such an arrangement.
Still, since he’d already planned it, she went along with it, waving her hand boldly.
“No need to check. It won’t rain these few days. Sleeping outdoors won’t be a problem.”
“…May I come along?” he asked.
Over the past days, Xiao Xingcang had gradually regained the use of his inner strength.
For half a year, he hadn’t stepped beyond the residence gates even once. In those days, he had been so irritable he nearly didn’t recognize himself.
The heart-devouring pain, the splitting headaches—he fainted several times a day.
His border command and political authority had all been stripped away.
Aside from the empty title of Prince Qin, he had nothing left.
Seeing the longing in his eyes, Gu Qinglu assumed he, too, yearned for the quiet of the deep forest.
After some thought, she said, “As you like.”
She paused, took another sip of tea, then rose and headed for the medicine room.
Based on the nanny’s daily reports, Xiao Xingcang knew she was going to prepare medicine for him to be decocted later.
Hearing her agreement, a faint, inexplicable anticipation stirred within him.
Now he didn’t have to die.
He could even leave the residence.
It was time to rebuild, to plan the road ahead.
……
That night, Gu Qinglu worked under lamplight, bent over her desk.
She listed everything that needed to be found in the mountains, planning to have Xiao Xingcang’s people help search—it would be faster that way.
His parasite had been neutralized for some time now.
The other side would surely have noticed.
Before they came, she needed to cultivate gu capable of resisting them—and gather poisonous herbs to reinforce the walls of the rear courtyard, preventing intrusion.
After finishing the list and checking it for omissions, the night had grown deep.
Thinking of something, she relaxed back in her chair, closed her eyes, and focused intently.
Before long, the sparrows perched beneath the eaves began chirping frantically.
Gu Qinglu snapped her eyes open and bolted for the door.
The next instant, a long, piercing whistle echoed through the night.
Immediately after came a deep, steady voice—the same one she had heard on the night of the coffin:
“The entire residence is on alert. Unknown entities spotted. Archers.”
The sound came from beyond the rear courtyard wall—it was Xiao Xingcang’s men, fulfilling their agreement and stationed there to protect her.
Gu Qinglu stood in the courtyard and turned in a full circle.
Suddenly, something dove down from midair, accompanied by a skin-crawling “screech-screech-screech.”
Realizing what it was, she lifted her skirt and rushed toward the medicine room, snatching up her purple bamboo flute before turning back into the courtyard.
She stopped, standing perfectly still, watching the bats’ trajectory.
A dense mass of black bats swooped down over the wall where she had buried the gu, circling as they screeched—then abruptly flew off.
She knew what they were doing.
They were searching for the source of the gu, tracking the scent of the parasite she had destroyed.
It was the scent of the mother gu she had planted that had disrupted their original path, drawing them into her courtyard.
“This is bad—they’re coming for my patron god.”
Thinking of that man, Gu Qinglu didn’t hesitate. She spun around and sprinted toward the archway.
That was five hundred ingots of gold and a warhorse—he couldn’t die. He hadn’t paid up yet.
It was the first time the residence had encountered something so strange. The guards panicked and surged toward the main courtyard in a rush.
“Protect the Prince! Archers ready!”
As Gu Qinglu ran, she twisted her head to glance at the sky beyond the corridor, where the bats gathered like a black cloud.
Her heart clenched.
Two clouds of bats had merged—and now they were diving straight toward the main courtyard.