Wei Linxia struck him again: “Serves you right for leaving me behind. I’ll beat you to death!”
“What she-wolf, clearly a tigress! Ouch, stop hitting – if I die before the battle, it’ll be in your hands.” Xi Linxuan grabbed her hand and pulled her into his embrace. “Hit, wait, I absolutely won’t fight back.”
“This is for our daughter,” Wei Linxia said in a muffled voice. After a few hits, she could barely lift her hand. These days had truly worn her out. Now that he had woken up, she could rest assured and sleep for a while.
Outside the tent, the cold wind howled, mixed with the mournful sound of the qiang flute. Inside, under the flickering candlelight, the young couple slept in an embrace.
The war’s progress would soon have nothing to do with them. The Rong country’s ruler ordered their return to Rong. Just after they returned home, Feng happily informed them that Master Mu had sent someone to deliver the young county princess, asking the two princes to be at ease.
Wei Linxia’s heart was half at rest, the other half worried about Xi Linxuan’s numerous wounds. Following the doctor’s advice, she applied and brewed medicine daily, gritting her teeth and cursing the Rong ruler’s despicable actions. Just as Xi Linxuan’s wounds nearly healed, tensions in Rong rose again, with rumors spreading that Yan was mobilizing 500,000 troops to the border.
Hearing this news, Xi Linxuan’s face darkened.
Wei Linxia’s hand trembled as she held the medicine bowl.
If she had to choose the person she hated most, it would be the Yan Emperor – that cold man sitting in the dim place, hidden behind misty incense. He wouldn’t know his son was on the battlefield, ready to be pierced by a thousand arrows. His northern expedition was leading to his son’s tragic death, yet he still issued the order.
“Nothing will happen,” Xi Linxuan said as he took the medicine bowl from her and drank it calmly.
“Right, nothing will happen. We’ve already met King Yama,” Wei Linxia said. After he took his medicine, she applied ointment evenly. They had walked past the gates of hell; they shouldn’t die, right?
