Chapter Fifty: The Reasons for Surrender

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As he spoke, the surrounding soldiers stepped forward in perfect unison. Kaiming’s grip on the knife tightened, and a thin line of blood instantly appeared on the fair neck of the bodyguard.

“Don’t be nervous.” The atmosphere was tense as a drawn bow; Qingyun tried to smooth things over. “I have no intention of harming you.”

She signaled with her eyes, “Tell them to leave!”

Yun briskly waved the soldiers away. Their eyes flickered with strange light; they dared not go far and clustered just outside the tent.

“They’re all gone now. We can talk properly.” Qingyun was at ease.

“Talk about what!” she glared fiercely at him. “I’ve already lost. What’s left to discuss?”

“So you admit defeat?” Qingyun smiled, “But are you willing to submit?”

She turned her head, refusing to answer.

“Can you let go of my bodyguard first?” Qingyun gestured. “It’s hard to talk like this.”

“No way!” Her eyes widened. “He’s my hostage!”

“What do you want by holding him?” Qingyun found it amusing. “He’s neither a strategist nor a commander. Dying in the line of duty is what’s expected. I can guarantee you won’t get three steps out of this camp with him.”

Kaiming considered that his words made sense. But if she let go of the bodyguard now, wouldn’t she lose any bargaining chip?

“You’ve lost three rounds already. You ought to surrender sincerely.” Qingyun watched her shifting expression. “His Majesty Nangong is wise and eager for talent. Even if you surrender, you won’t be despised. You’ll be given a role according to your abilities.”

“But…” She pouted. “I’m not a worthy person, nor am I talented. I’m just a lowly soldier. If I surrender, all I’ll be good for is sweeping the floors or pouring tea. What use could I possibly be?”

She blinked in confusion. “Which makes me curious. Why do you go to such lengths to get me to surrender? For what purpose?”

Qingyun was momentarily at a loss for words, his face a little unnatural. He coughed and changed the subject. “I have my reasons. As for the bodyguard, I have a small proposal. Would you care to hear it?”

“What proposal?” she asked warily.

“I’ve said it before: if you leave like this, you’ll certainly die. My proposal is…” He met her suspicious gaze, speaking with ease, “I, the strategist, will exchange myself for this bodyguard. What do you think?”

Kaiming was even more surprised. Wasn’t this courting death? In those crime dramas, the police would use this trick to confuse the criminals. Since when had she become the villain?

“No way!” she said, stiffening her neck.

The bodyguard, watching her movements, whispered, “Strategist, you mustn’t! Your status is too high to trade yourself with this wicked woman!”

“Who are you calling a wicked woman!” The knife pressed harder, and the bodyguard felt a chill and quickly shut his mouth.

“You really have no vision, turning down such a good bargain.” Qingyun shook his head and made as if to leave. “You only get one chance. If you don’t accept, I’m going.”

“Wait!” she called out instinctively, thinking no matter how cunning he was, with a knife at his throat he’d have to behave. “Come over here!”

Qingyun smiled faintly and walked toward her with composure. She watched him with utmost vigilance.

The bodyguard stared dazedly at his strategist, who came forward with that calm, unruffled smile. As the knife left the bodyguard’s neck, Qingyun suddenly winked at him.

It was a subtle signal, but after years of serving his strategist, the bodyguard instantly understood the unspoken message.

The moment the blade left his throat, the bodyguard threw his head back, dodging the sharp edge, and raised his hands to tightly seize her wrist, pushing outward.

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Kaiming was caught off guard. Pain shot through her wrist, and she nearly lost her grip on the knife. Although the bodyguard surprised her, being half-reclined on the bed left him little strength to exert.

Within those few seconds, Qingyun seized the opportunity, stepped forward, and grabbed her knife-wielding wrist with one hand while hauling the bodyguard off the bed with the other.

The bodyguard tumbled to the ground, scrambling to shout at the top of his lungs, “Someone! Help!”

The soldiers waiting outside burst in, prepared for a bloodbath—at the very least, expecting to see blood. Instead, what they saw left them utterly speechless.

On the bed, two people were locked in a fierce struggle. The female assassin had been thrown down, her face pale, wrestling with their strategist over a steel knife. Qingyun’s face was equally tense. Neither of them realized how shocking this scene—a man and a woman grappling on the bed—looked to those standing outside.

The soldiers held their breath. Qingyun deftly wrenched the knife from her grasp. In truth, all he did was pin her wrist against the hard edge of the bed, causing her to release the weapon.

With a clang, the steel knife fell to the floor. Kaiming’s eyes brimmed with tears from the pain. “Damn you, you’re really ruthless!”

Given the situation, everyone drew a sharp breath. What on earth was happening? For a moment, no one dared to act rashly.

Only then did Qingyun smile, still holding her wrist tightly, and, without looking up, said to the others, “It’s all right now. You may leave.”

The soldiers glanced at him uncertainly.

“Your neck is bleeding,” Qingyun said to the bodyguard. “Go bandage it.”

The bodyguard replied warily, “But…”

“Everyone’s had a hard day. Dismissed!” he said breezily, as if this weren’t an awkward scene but the most ordinary of matters.

They looked from him to the furious female soldier he restrained. Despite their doubts, they dared not disobey and left one by one.

When the last footsteps faded away, Kaiming finally exploded with the loudest roar of her life: “What is wrong with you? Have you no sense of shame! Bullying a defenseless, weak woman like this!”

“Are you a weak woman?” Qingyun was calm, but his smile vanished as he advanced. “You tricked me into a wager, refused to honor your defeat, and then tried to kill me in the night. Does that sound like a weak woman to you?”

She was speechless; it was all true, and she had no retort. Still, she thought she couldn’t show weakness and stubbornly said, “We serve different masters, we were bound to be enemies. All’s fair in war…”

“All’s fair in war?” His eyes grew cold, stripped of all gentleness. “So you’re saying everything you did was just to deceive me?”

“That’s not exactly it…” she faltered. Why did this sound like a soap opera confrontation between a jilted woman and an unfaithful man?

The grip on her wrist tightened, nearly breaking bone. Whether it was his icy gaze or the pain, cold sweat broke out on her brow and spine.

She could only force out a word between clenched teeth.

Unexpectedly, Qingyun released her, his cold expression melting into gentle concern. “Did that really hurt?”

“Try it yourself!” she almost shouted, tears in her eyes. She grumbled inwardly—apart from Dayin, this was the second fastest face-changer she’d ever seen.

“You keep asking me why I insist on your surrender. You’re right, you’re not a great figure—just a foot soldier, so lowly you’re barely worth the dust.” He was merciless, striking her sore spot. She almost wanted to curse him.

But then, she saw his eyes drop, his face solemn, not a hint of contempt. His next words were barely audible, but earnest: “Does a man need a reason to care about a woman?”

She wondered if she’d misheard—was this an illusion? Had he really just said that?

“Could you repeat that?” She rubbed her sore wrist, staring at him in astonishment.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Qingyun’s face. “Can you say such things twice?”

So she hadn’t misheard? She rolled her eyes, needing several seconds to process his logic.

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The two stared at each other in silence, as if even time itself had frozen in that taut, awkward truce.

Truth be told, Qingyun was remarkably handsome—like any attractive man on the street, someone one might admire in passing. But imagining him in a romantic context? She simply couldn’t connect the man before her with such thoughts.

To her, Qingyun was a strategist above all others; with a word or a smile, he could obliterate his enemies. A man like him was a lotus flower—meant to be admired from afar, never to be sullied. If Ji’s gaze brimmed with naked possessiveness, she could understand Ji; but Qingyun’s motives were beyond her comprehension. Men of his ilk were always aloof and self-important, utterly unlike what she imagined.

“You’re joking.” She grinned sheepishly, trying to look as natural as possible. “There are many kinds of relationships between men and women.”

Qingyun frowned, unsure how to explain his slip. He opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat.

At that awkward moment, the tent flap was whipped up as if by a gale, and a burly figure swept in on the wings of the wind.

A cold voice cut through the air: “Qingyun, what are you doing making such a ruckus in the middle of the night?”

The abruptness of the intrusion made both Qingyun and Kaiming’s hearts stop, as if they’d been caught in flagrante delicto. Rigidly, they turned to face the newcomer.

The brisk, heavy footsteps halted abruptly—it was Sikong. He wore a loose robe, his hair unbound, long black tresses brushing his cheeks. Having just entered from outside, he was still wrapped in the chill night air. His eyes widened in shock—then widened again, transforming into a look of utter disbelief.

Enemies are destined to cross paths, Kaiming thought involuntarily.

Qingyun cursed inwardly—of all people, why did it have to be Sikong?

Sikong stood frozen, as if a gust of wind could scatter his sand sculpture of a body to the four corners of the earth.

He couldn’t believe his eyes: the female soldier who claimed to be close to Qingyun was lying on Qingyun’s bed, rubbing her wrist, gazing at him with what could only be described as adoration—if Kaiming’s dazed expression qualified as such.

And his strategist gazed back even more tenderly, the two exchanging glances as intense as thunder and lightning. In Sikong’s eyes, Qingyun’s hesitation was the height of passion.

“Do you have no sense of shame?” Sikong finally recovered, his first words brimming with fury. “Strategist, is this the example you set for the troops?”

Always composed, Qingyun now fumbled, hurriedly slipping off the bed to explain: “It’s not what you think—”

“What do I think?” Sikong’s voice was icy.

“It’s not—it’s not what you imagine.”

“And what do I imagine?” Sikong was clearly determined to argue.

Kaiming sat up, still gingerly rubbing her wrist, and cast a glance at the overbearing Sikong, tossing out a line as if in passing: “Whatever you see and think is exactly right, Commander.”

Both Sikong and Qingyun were stunned, clearly not expecting such a bombshell.

“Kaiming, don’t talk nonsense!” Qingyun thought this woman was just making trouble for him.

“Could I ask the strategist to step outside? I have important military matters to report to the Commander.” Kaiming shot a wicked smile and a flirtatious wink at Qingyun, giving him chills.

Sikong, keenly aware of Qingyun’s embarrassment, suddenly became interested. “What do you say, Strategist?”

Qingyun sighed lightly. “Nine out of ten things she says are untrustworthy, and the other one should be taken with caution. Sikong, be on your guard.”

“Thank you for your kind warning, Strategist.” Sikong’s face was full of schadenfreude.