Xu Buran, however, was completely at a loss and truly couldn’t help himself — he looked back over his shoulder.
“……” He nearly brought up everything he had just eaten. He looked at Zhao Huaizhu in shock.
Zhao Huaizhu maintained her smile with perfect naturalness, explaining: “The mountain road was rough — the wheelchair was difficult to carry, and General Cheng took a tumble.”
What kind of tumble could leave a person looking as though they had been executed by a thousand cuts — flesh and blood in ruin, not an inch of intact skin.
Pressing his hand to his chest, swallowing repeatedly, Xu Buran took quite a while before he finally recovered.
“Is he… still alive?” He ventured cautiously.
Zhao Huaizhu smiled: “Per His Majesty’s edict, if Cheng Huaili resisted to the death, the General had the authority to execute him on the spot. Regrettably, he resisted far too fiercely — so the manner of his death wasn’t particularly pleasant to look upon.”
“Can you understand that, Lord Xu?”
“……” Xu Buran didn’t quite understand, if he was being honest.
The Chen Baoxiang he knew was innocent and endearing, kind-hearted — how could she bring herself to strike someone with such ferocity.
·
The task given by His Majesty had been smoothly completed, and Chen Baoxiang was about to return to the capital.
Zhang Zhixu received word and went out beyond the city gates early to wait.
He wasn’t particularly clingy or the type who couldn’t bear to be separated from her — it had only been seven days, eight hours, and one quarter-hour since they parted. He was not especially worried about her. It just so happened that today was his day off, and coming here was perfectly on the way.
But it was nearly noon now — how was there still no sign of her out there?
“Master, don’t worry.” Jiuquan said. “I asked around — they’ll be here very soon.”
“I’m not worried.” He shook his head. “What is there to worry about? She’ll come back eventually.”
Saying this, he nudged his horse’s flanks and rode half a li further out.
Jiuquan: “……”
In the distance, Zhang Zhixu spotted the billowing banner of the Western Camp. Tracking downward from the flag, he easily caught sight of Chen Baoxiang.
“Fengqing?” She rose in her stirrups with a bright smile, waving to him.
Like spring winds sweeping through, setting ten thousand flowers fragrant — he curved his lips and waited, and watched as she spurred her horse to pull up beside him.
“Come to pick me up?” Chen Baoxiang asked with great delight.
He replied with measured restraint: “Happened to be passing by.”
“Don’t give me that — the Eastern Gate is nowhere near your residence.” She exposed his excuse without mercy, then stretched out her hand and gave his wrist a light squeeze.
Not hand-holding, not an embrace — just a gentle grip through the fabric of his sleeve.
Yet Zhang Fengqing suddenly felt deeply at ease, his heart soft and warm, like a bundle of freshly sun-dried cotton bedding.
He raised his eyes, just about to ask whether she’d like to go eat at Zhaixing Tower, when he noticed a familiar figure approaching from behind.
Xu Buran?
Zhang Zhixu was fine seeing this person everywhere else, but catching sight of him anywhere near Chen Baoxiang put him in a bad mood.
On instinct, he pressed his lips together and stared directly at the man.
What was unexpected was that the man didn’t meet his gaze the way he had before. Instead, he quickly dropped his eyes and even stepped past them both, walking on ahead as if absorbed in his own thoughts.
His complexion looked a bit pale, and his bearing carried a hint of… avoidance?
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