Chen Baoxiang reined in her horse, dao drawn horizontally, eyes fixed and unblinking on the direction of their retreat.
The swarming mass grew steadily fainter across the open plain. The wind swept through the emptiness, and at last the moon emerged.
Clear white moonlight fell across the red-pooled earth and shimmered.
“Director, shall we not pursue?” Wang Wu asked, still flushed with the heat of battle, bright-eyed with excitement.
Chen Baoxiang shook her head.
The gate had been held — but the losses on her side were staggering. So staggering she could not bring herself to look back.
Every single one of these soldiers had trusted her, had followed her out of the city to meet the enemy head-on. She had known the numbers were stacked against them and had fought to the last all the same — whether that had been right or wrong, she no longer knew. How could she now chase down a retreating foe?
“Record the casualties and make a proper account. Then come with me to report to Her Highness.” Even her voice had fallen — carrying the low rasp left behind by hours of fighting and shouting.
Wang Wu could not understand why she looked so unhappy when they had won, but scratched her head and began calling the soldiers to fall back.
Chen Baoxiang gathered the battle standard in silence, turned her horse back toward the city in silence.
When she was nearly beneath the city gate, something moved inside her, and she looked up.
High atop the city tower, Zhang Zhixu stood in his long pale celadon robes, his sleeves billowing and lifting in the wind.
He was looking at her — with burning intensity and complete certainty — a faint smile at the corner of his mouth, his eyes full of reverence.
Reverence?
Chen Baoxiang thought for a moment she was seeing things. When would Zhang Fengqing ever show an expression like that?
But she looked again, and his gaze had not changed — he stood perfectly still, indifferent to however many people were watching him.
She was always the one teasing him, making the back of his neck flush red. This was the first time — Chen Baoxiang felt the tips of her own ears warm slowly beneath his gaze.
She tucked the standard under her arm and entered the city at a brisk pace, finished giving orders for her soldiers to continue holding the wall, then went and pulled him down from the tower.
“Why did you come?”
“It was too dark. I was afraid you’d lose your way.” He let out a slow breath. “So I came myself to fetch you.”
With that, he looked her over once, and gave a single, satisfied nod. “Director Chen truly does as she says.”
No obvious wounds this time, and she looked alert. The grip on his wrist was still quite strong.
Zhang Zhixu felt a warmth bloom in his chest.
This was the first time he had watched her fight with his own eyes. She had been magnificent — brave and brilliant all at once. There was no one else in the world like her, so full of both courage and wits. She had even thought to light the beacon fires ahead of time.
Once the beacon fires of Shangjing were lit, it meant rebel forces had appeared outside the walls. Regardless of whose orders Song Juqing carried, a covert night assault was a name without legitimacy behind it — and once word spread, he would be treated as a rebel army whether he was one or not.
The Grand Princess could seize on that opportunity to launch an offensive against the palace.
“Truly remarkable.” He patted her on the back and praised her in earnest.
Chen Baoxiang blinked, her mood lightening a little. “Were you watching for a long time from up there?”
“Yes.”
“Were you captivated by me?”
“Only natural.”
She laughed, and the two of them mounted up together and started back — but had not gone far before they met a dispatch rider.
“I have to make a stop near the palace walls.” Zhang Zhixu received the message. “Go report to Her Highness on my behalf.”
“All right.” Chen Baoxiang glanced at Shangjing, its walls ringed with the glow of beacon fires, and pressed her lips together. “You also come back in one piece.”
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