Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Secrets of Ji's Heart

“Who am I?” Numbed by alcohol, she was dazed for several seconds.

“That time, when you started a conversation with me and said those inexplicable things, I began to suspect something.” Chunhua stared at her intently, trying to read her expression. “You’ve changed, and Xuan has changed with you. Ever since we arrived at the camp, after your affair with Captain Su was exposed…”

“What affair do I have with Su?” she asked, genuinely surprised that someone as brash as Chunhua could be so perceptive.

“Conspirators. What does that mean? Are you so close that you scheme together behind everyone’s backs?” Chunhua’s tone was cold. “Drinking together, going to prison together, even being paired together—do you think everyone else is a fool?”

The scene from Kanhuai was deliberately brushed aside by Chunhua. In the swirling dust, the boy slowly fell, his familiar face dissolving into fragments of memory, scattered like petals. Kaimei closed her eyes for a moment, her fingers clenching the wild grass beside her.

Chunhua watched her every move and asked in a low voice, “Kaimei, do you like Su?”

“Like him?” She didn’t know. If a faint stirring of the heart and an inexplicable sense of peace counted, perhaps she did.

“What about Xuan?”

Xuan? She had never thought about it. She was a lone soul from another realm, never expecting Xuan to become her family. Yet, he was indeed her nominal husband.

Thinking of Xuan, she couldn’t help but remember someone else—the half pendant, the child, questions that had troubled her for a long time. “Chunhua, did Xuan ever serve in the army?”

“No, I don’t think so!” Chunhua answered quickly. “I don’t know about before he moved here, but he’s never mentioned anything related to the military.”

“Is that so?” Kaimei recalled their first meeting. He blushed, saying he was too old for military service. What a lovable man, blushing when talking to his own wife. But if it was all just a facade, then he would be the most terrifying man of all.

“You don’t know anything about your own husband?” Chunhua asked, puzzled.

“I don’t.” Kaimei replied calmly. “Just as I don’t know who I am.”

Chunhua’s eyes widened in astonishment. “What do you mean?”

“You ask me who I am? I honestly don’t know.” Kaimei smiled at her bitterly. “I haven’t tried to deceive you. Before coming to your town, I lost all my memories—don’t know who my parents are, where my home is, how many siblings I have. It’s as if I was born and Xuan was already beside me.”

“There’s such a thing?” Chunhua’s eyes grew even wider. “Did you ever suffer a head injury? How could you forget everything before?”

“Maybe, because it was too ugly, it was sealed away!” She winked mischievously and laughed. Borrowing a phrase from the comics, memory seal. Since her consciousness awakened in this body, she had noticed a missing segment in the memories of the Yaksha woman. But if the body’s owner chose to forget, why should she reopen old wounds? Isn’t it better to live more lightly?

Chunhua, seeing her expression, immediately felt tricked. She sat up with a huff and reached out to slap her face. “You dare deceive me!”

Kaimei dodged her claw and laughed, “Don’t come too close, you’re a woman of a thousand charms, and I’ve had too much to drink. If I lose control in my drunkenness, what then?”

Chunhua glared at her angrily, actually intimidated by her absurd words, unsure whether to approach or stay away. Her reaction made Kaimei burst into laughter again. Chunhua finally couldn’t hold back and stomped her foot, shouting, “Just wait, next time I’ll come for you—fight or drink, whatever it is, I’ll win!”

“I’m always ready.” After saying this, Kaimei watched Chunhua’s plump body move nimbly through the branches, thinking, for all her size, this woman was surprisingly agile. Her head spun; she reached for a bottle, but all she found were empty ones.

A heavy bottle was handed to her. She took it naturally, murmuring thanks. Had Chunhua returned?

She raised the bottle, drank two mouthfuls, and caught a glimpse of a swaying figure from the corner of her eye. It moved, but she couldn’t see clearly. The figure brushed aside the grass and sat where Chunhua had just been.

Wait, when did Chunhua lose so much weight? This figure was slender and tall; even the most miraculous slimming cream couldn’t melt away so much fat in minutes. The clothing was wrong too—light-colored robes didn’t suit someone heavy, and the features were all wrong: sharp eyebrows, slightly melancholy phoenix eyes.

Phoenix eyes? She spluttered, spraying wine onto the ground. It wasn’t that Chunhua had achieved miraculous weight loss, but that the person before her wasn’t Chunhua at all—it was Lord Yu Bing!

Her drunkenness faded somewhat. She sprawled on the ground, trying to hide the empty bottles, picking up one only to drop another. Ji watched her quietly, observing her frantic movements. She finally gave up and whispered, “My lord, I admit my mistake. I’ll go run twenty laps outside right now.”

“Stop. Who said you could leave?” Ji’s tone was calm, his gaze equally cool. “Sit down.”

She was nervous, at a loss whether to sit or stand.

“No need to be so tense.” Ji picked up the bottle she had dropped and drank several gulps. Kaimei stared at him, surprised that even Lord Yu Bing was drinking today.

He drank half, then tossed it to her. “You drink.”

She drank as if under orders, then suddenly realized something. Passing a bottle back and forth like this—wasn’t it rather… intimate? She quickly set the bottle aside, not daring to take another sip.

“My lord, when did you arrive?” she asked carefully, wondering how much of her earlier conversation he might have overheard.

“When you said you might lose control after drinking.” Ji looked at her, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Is it true, as the rumors say, that you prefer women?”

She mumbled, unable to answer. How had even Lord Yu Bing heard such nonsense and come out with such a tricky question?

“I wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping. You two were speaking so loudly, and I happened to be nearby, taking a walk.” He explained simply, then fell silent, gazing at the thicket before him.

Kaimei tilted her head, noticing how different Lord Yu Bing was today. Without the leader’s mask, the coldness and severity had faded, replaced by a faint sorrow. Gone was the usual black and gray attire; he wore a light sky-blue robe, his hair casually braided, surprisingly fetching.

Ji turned to meet her gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“The scenery…” She grabbed the bottle to hide her embarrassment. “Drinking, just drinking.”

“Any left?” Ji glanced at her, then at the bottle.

“You drink.” She handed it over, and Ji drained the rest in one go, tossing the bottle aside. “Not enough.”

“I’ll look for more, really.” She hurriedly searched through the slender bottles scattered on the ground, clattering them together but finding none full. She cursed inwardly—how could Chunhua, with her huge throat, drink them all?

“Forget it.” Ji sighed softly, lying back, hands clasped behind his head, gazing at the clouds like Chunhua had earlier. Only now the clouds were darker, the sky ink-black, night’s curtain slowly descending.

She followed his gaze, looking at the sky, then at him, unable to resist asking, “My lord, are you troubled?”

Ji didn’t answer, staring at the sky like a statue. She felt awkward and moved aside.

The gentle breeze made her drowsy. Ji suddenly said, “Is it possible to have both the fish and the bear’s paw?”

Kaimei was too drunk to understand, her eyes hazy. “What?”

“A question I pose for you, part of your training.” Ji repeated, “I ask you, can you have both the fish and the bear’s paw?”

Yawning, her whole body lulled by the alcohol, she replied, “Depends who’s asking.”

“Depends?” he asked, curious.

“If it’s a person, of course they want the bear’s paw. If it’s a bear, they’d want the fish.”

“What kind of answer is that?” His phoenix eyes widened.

“People eat meat, so they’d want bear’s paw!” she rambled, yawning again.

Ji looked at her, then bent double, nearly laughing out loud. “What am I supposed to say about you, so ignorant.”

“What’s your answer, then?” she retorted, twisting her neck to look at him.

Ji’s laughter faded, and he sighed deeply. “Maybe you’re right—different people, different positions, different choices. There’s no such thing as having both fish and bear’s paw.”

“I wasn’t being profound, don’t overthink it.” Kaimei couldn’t hold on any longer, sleep overwhelming her. She flopped to the ground, eyes closed, muttering, “Don’t ask me any more nonsense, it’s truce time. Do whatever you want.”

Ji kindly reminded her, “If you sleep here, you’ll catch cold.”

“It’s cool here, breezy, perfect for sleeping…” she murmured, her eyes too sore to open.

“Kaimei.”

“Mm…”

“About last night, I’m sorry.”

“Mm…”

“Last night you seemed so different, like a real woman. For a moment, well, you know what I mean. So, it’s not entirely my fault…”

A few words drifted into her ears. In her haze, Kaimei wondered, When did I not look like a woman? I am a woman, after all. Lord Yu Bing must be drunk too.

She slipped into deep sleep, her mind floating, her body light as air, soaring higher and higher.

She slept soundly, until the sun was high in the sky. She woke with a start—late for morning training, clothes still disheveled, and rushed outside. At the door stood Ji’s personal guard, who, seeing her, breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re finally awake. Lord Yu Bing instructed that, since you’re not well today, you can rest for half a day. I’m here to notify you.”

She replied absently, and as she turned, the door reminded her of something. “Brother Guard.”

“What is it?”

“Did I sleep indoors?” Seeing his puzzled look, she quickly explained, “Last night I wanted some air and must have fallen asleep in the woods.”

“I saw Lord Yu Bing carry you back.” The guard said lightly, raising his eyes to glance at her and lowering his voice, adding, “It’s the first time I’ve seen him carry a female soldier himself.”

Kaimei was utterly dumbfounded, unable to utter a word.