Two processions meet at the border. One alliance begins. And beneath the ceremony, danger stirs.
PART 1 The Terror of Being Replaceable
A single possibility—that Ai Miao might accept women—shatters Gu Lian's last illusion. What hurts most is not abandonment, but being rendered irrelevant.
The wind at the border carried the scent of grit, whipping the banners into a fierce, rattling roar. Da Sheng's imperial yellow procession and Beicang's dark-armored convoy converged before Wangbei Pass, like two giant serpents of contrasting colors, silently confronting each other across the barren land.
Princess Yunzhu of Beicang rode forth, her fiery red riding attire blazing like a flame. She dismounted with crisp, fluid movements—exuding the bold spirit unique to the children of the grasslands. When her gaze met Gu Lian's, she offered a radiant smile, though a trace of barely perceptible anxiety flickered in her eyes—like a caged bird trapped in splendor.
"Yunzhu greets the Crown Prince of Da Sheng," she said, voice clear and sweet, her tone perfectly respectful. Yet her eyes lingered boldly on Gu Lian's cold, refined face, as if trying to stir a ripple on that frozen lake.
Gu Lian gave a slight nod, his voice calm and detached. "You've endured a long journey, Princess." His gaze swept past her with polite indifference, pausing for no more than a moment before turning to the Beicang envoy to discuss logistics and supplies. His aloofness was colder than the border wind.
Ai Miao stood half a step behind Gu Lian, eyes lowered, silently taking in everything. He noticed that beneath the princess's bright smile, her gaze kept drifting—unconsciously—toward a low-ranking Beicang officer in the escort. The man stood tall, his features stern. Each time her eyes passed over him, he would quickly lower his head, fists clenched so tightly that veins bulged across his knuckles.
Ai Miao raised his wine cup, using the motion to conceal the faint trace of understanding at the corner of his lips.
So that's how it is. A marriage of political convenience. A princess with a heart already spoken for. A silent lover forced to watch from the shadows. This seemingly solid alliance had, from the beginning, sown the seeds of unrest.
Your Highness… do you know that what you're about to possess in name is a heart already given to another?
—
The return journey was no longer peaceful.
As the convoy passed through a narrow canyon, the faint sound of falling stones echoed from above.
"Protect the envoys!" A Lie's roar tore through the silence.
Dozens of black-clad assassins leapt from the cliffs like phantoms, blades gleaming coldly. This time, their target was clear—Princess Yunzhu.
Chaos erupted instantly. A Lie led the guards to shield Gu Lian at the center, forming a tight defensive ring. The slender guard who always shadowed A Lie—known as Qing Ying—unleashed her sword like a silver ribbon, deflecting arrows aimed at A Lie with ruthless precision. Her fierce strikes contrasted sharply with her seemingly delicate frame.
Gu Lian stood within the protective circle, his expression as cold and composed as ever, eyes scanning the battlefield with sharp focus. He noticed something strange: the assassins were skilled and coordinated, yet each time their blades neared the princess's vital points, they subtly veered off course.
Not a kill strike. More like… a convincing threat. Or a test.
The assassins retreated as swiftly as they came. Realizing their mission had failed, they bit down on poison capsules and died instantly—leaving no survivors.
—
That night, the convoy camped outside the canyon. The firelight flickered, casting heavy shadows across tense faces.
Ai Miao approached Gu Lian's tent and requested an audience.
"Your Highness," he said, bowing, his voice unusually calm in the night wind. "Today's assassins behaved oddly. Though they targeted the princess, their attacks held back—more like an attempt to create chaos, or… to test our response."
Gu Lian looked up, his cold gaze landing on Ai Miao with scrutiny. This was the first time since their confrontation in the side hall that Ai Miao had initiated a conversation beyond official duty—offering personal insight.
"Go on."
"I observed the princess," Ai Miao paused, choosing his words carefully. "Though she appeared frightened during the attack, her eyes revealed something deeper—more like the fear of a secret being exposed than a fear of death. And her exchanges of glances with that Beicang officer… the frequency and emotion far exceeded that of a typical master and servant."
Gu Lian remained silent, the firelight flickering in his deep eyes. After a long pause, he suddenly curled his lips into a cold, humorless smile.
"So Minister Ai now observes the nuances of romantic entanglements with such precision. How insightful."
The words struck like an icy needle—piercing the softest part of Ai Miao's heart.
He instantly recalled the unresolved scandal—the "affair" that had tarnished his name. Gu Lian's tone suggested he believed Ai Miao now paid special attention to women… perhaps even that his preferences had changed.
A mix of injustice and dull pain welled up in his throat. He said nothing more, bowed deeply, and silently retreated into the darkness beyond the tent.
Gu Lian stared at the direction Ai Miao had disappeared, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the jade pendant at his waist.
His words hadn't been baseless mockery. Over the past few months, fragments of information had gathered and fermented in his mind: Ai Miao had arranged the redemption and resettlement of the courtesan with meticulous care; upon returning to the capital, he had indeed begun meeting noblewomen under the Prime Minister's wife's arrangements—no outcomes yet, but the intent was clear; and just now, when "matters between men and women" were mentioned, that fleeting stiffness and silence…
All of it was like pieces of a cold puzzle, assembling into a possibility that made Gu Lian's heart clench—Ai Miao might truly be capable of accepting women.
This realization struck deeper than the day he learned Ai Miao had gone to Beijing. It brought a sense of total abandonment—and a jealousy so fierce it felt like destruction.
—
The next afternoon, the convoy rested beside a clear stream.
Princess Yunzhu strolled along the water with her trusted maid, having found an excuse to dismiss the others.
"He's running out of patience…" Once alone, the composure on Yunzhu's face collapsed. Her voice trembled with suppressed sobs. "If we reach the capital and the wedding is held, it'll be too late! My father will never allow it… We must create a fait accompli before then!"
The maid glanced around nervously, lowering her voice. "Princess, the 'Lovesick Ash' is extremely potent—colorless, tasteless. Just one drop…"
"Enough!" Yunzhu clenched her fists, a look of desperate resolve flashing across her beautiful face. "As long as I become the Crown Prince's woman—lose my purity—Father will have no choice! And I can… finally kill his hope. Make him give up!"
The "he" she spoke of was clearly not Gu Lian.
Behind a dense thicket, Qing Ying crouched, pretending to inspect a horseshoe—while listening to every word.
Her body stiffened. Shock flickered in her eyes, followed by intense inner turmoil.
Should she report this to the general? No… Doing so now might stop the princess, but it would also alert any forces behind her, making it harder to uncover the mastermind. This was a chance for the general to earn great merit.
But if she stayed silent… and let things unfold…
She thought of the way A Lie looked at the Crown Prince—so deep, so focused. She thought of his near-monastic restraint over the years. And in a hidden corner of her heart, a selfish thought took root:
What if… what if this created an irreparable rift between him and the Crown Prince? What if he finally let go of that hopeless devotion?
The thought terrified her—but it was also fatally tempting.
In the end, her feelings for A Lie, and her desire to possess him completely, outweighed her duty as a guard.
She bit her lip, and silently withdrew.
—
By evening, the convoy had settled at the royal post station.
Princess Yunzhu's maid successfully bribed a greedy, timid servant—who laced the drinking water prepared for the Crown Prince, Ai Miao, and other key officials with "Lovesick Ash," intending to cause widespread chaos.
But fate had other plans.
The servant, flustered and fearful, mixed up the delivery—sending the most heavily dosed flask to Ai Miao's room, while the clean water meant for him ended up with Gu Lian.
—
Night fell. Lights dimmed across the station.
Gu Lian sat alone in his room. Ai Miao's strange reactions during the day, and the lingering doubts about the assassins, churned in his mind. He had no appetite, drank only half a cup of water—ingesting a minimal dose.
But even that faint trace, mixed with five years of suppressed longing, the sting of betrayal, and the fear that Ai Miao's heart now leaned toward women, was like a spark dropped into oil.
A fire ignited inside him—burning through his chest, scorching his nerves. He couldn't sit still. Visions began to blur: Ai Miao entangled with the courtesan… or with some faceless woman.
—
In Ai Miao's room, the situation was far worse.
Unaware, he had consumed a large amount of the drug while working late into the night.
Now, the full force of the potion surged through him. His body felt molten, blood rushing wildly through his limbs. Years of discipline crumbled under the onslaught.
He collapsed onto the bed, clothes disheveled by his own hands, forehead pressed against the cold bedpost—desperately trying to use its chill to suppress the unfamiliar, overwhelming desire. Broken gasps escaped his throat.
—
Elsewhere, A Lie had heard that the Crown Prince hadn't eaten dinner. Worried, he stepped out to check on him—only to be intercepted by Qing Ying.
"General, now is not the time!" Her voice held a trace of urgency—and guilt.
A Lie, already agitated by the drug's faint effects, frowned at her unusual resistance. "Step aside."
"General!" Qing Ying grabbed his arm. "The Crown Prince's condition is unclear. If you go now and see something… it may cause misunderstanding. For you, for him—it won't end well!"
She couldn't reveal the truth about the aphrodisiac. She could only block him—while the selfish thought in her heart grew stronger.
A Lie looked down at her hand—slender, but surprisingly strong.
In the darkness, they stood close. He could smell her faint, clean scent—different from most men. He saw her eyes beneath the helmet, reflecting moonlight, filled with worry, pleading… and something else he couldn't name. Something resolute.
The drug's influence, mixed with the strange tension, made his heart waver. A sudden impulse surged.
For a moment, he thought those eyes resembled the Crown Prince's—those rare flashes of stubbornness that had once captivated him.
"You…" Qing Ying barely had time to gasp before A Lie pulled her close, stumbling a few steps back into his tent—thick with masculine scent. The curtain fell, cutting them off from the world.
—
Inside his room, Gu Lian's fire burned hotter. The dam of reason finally broke.
He stumbled forward—and pushed open Ai Miao's door.