Chapter 52: Accidentally Ended Up in Your Bed

Hurriedly stifling her laughter, Kaiming adopted a serious expression and winked at Qingyun. “May I ask, strategist, how do you intend to deal with the would-be assassin?”

Qingyun chuckled. “You’re merely my quarry in a game of cat and mouse. To call you an assassin flatters you too much.”

Kaiming, momentarily stung, puffed out her cheeks in protest. But when she caught the mischievous glint in his eyes, she quickly shifted her demeanor, replying with a grin, “That’s for the best, then. At least I’m spared the charge.”

“Whether you’re spared or not is up to me. It’s not entirely impossible I’d have you thrown in the dungeons.” Qingyun’s teasing gaze faded as he sat on the stool beside her. “But first, what did you just say to Sikong?”

Kaiming kept her flippant smile. “He’s a handsome fellow, I just made small talk. Are our strategists so easily rattled?”

“Just small talk?” Qingyun’s smile was faint, his eyes limpid as still water—yet under the surface, currents swirled. “The ever-arrogant Sikong, who’s always wished to see me dead, wouldn’t let such an opportunity slip by. Yet he neither tried to humiliate me nor had you detained. There’s only one explanation…”

He paused, and Kaiming watched intently, imagining him as a detective about to reveal the culprit’s name.

“And that is, the two of you struck some secret bargain.”

Kaiming drew in a sharp breath. Remarkable—worthy of the Nangong strategist.

“Or perhaps you offered him something he found highly satisfactory.” Qingyun’s gaze steadied on her. She stared back, mouth agape, her eyes wide and brimming with admiration.

“Impressive…” she blurted, only to clamp her mouth shut at once. Could she have made her admission any more obvious?

Sure enough, Qingyun’s eyes narrowed, never leaving her face. “What did you promise him?”

She tried to sidestep, feigning nonchalance. “Nothing at all. I’m just a lowly soldier, what could I offer the commander? What could he possibly want from me? You overthink things, strategist.”

As she finished, she sneaked a glance at Qingyun. He was still watching her relentlessly, making her uneasy. She forced a laugh. “Strategist, even interrogations have a time limit, right? Look, you’ve kept me up half the night. It’s nearly dawn. Even prisoners deserve a bit of rest.”

“Want to rest?” His voice turned cold. “If you don’t come clean, don’t expect to rest.”

Kaiming gaped at him in disbelief. Could Qingyun really be so cold-blooded? Only Dain could best him in changing faces.

“Are you planning to torture me?” She shrank back, causing her stool to wobble.

“If you won’t talk, you’ll spend the night on that stool.” He stood and called out, “Guards!”

A young soldier with a healing patch on his neck rushed in. “Strategist?”

“Watch her. Don’t let her leave that stool,” Qingyun ordered, not sparing Kaiming another glance as he lay down on the bed, fully clothed and expressionless.

The guard, eager for payback, glowered at her, making her so uneasy she didn’t dare move a muscle.

They glared at each other for a while. Kaiming glanced at Qingyun’s back, then tried to strike up conversation with the guard. “Does your strategist treat you so poorly? First he uses you as bait, now you’re guarding a prisoner while you’re still injured.”

The guard shot back, “All your fault! And besides, even if you dared, you couldn’t kill anyone!”

She rolled her eyes. “Funny, I recall someone shaking like a leaf back then, making it impossible for me to even grip the dagger.”

The guard flushed, shooting a glance at Qingyun. Unable to retaliate, he just whispered fiercely, “The strategist said you’re cunning, but you’d never have the guts to kill. Everything is within his calculations. No matter how sharp your tongue, you’re still a prisoner of Nangong. What’s there to brag about?”

“Brat!” she cursed him and his strategist in her head, then lost interest and fell silent.

Neither lasted long. The guard soon slumped in a corner, nodding off, occasionally opening his eyes to check on her.

Kaiming was even more miserable. At least he had a wall to lean on—she was forced upright on that hard wooden bench. It was so unfair: one could sleep lying down, the other leaning, but she could only sit! She cursed Qingyun and his ancestors dozens of times, then eyed the drowsy guard and Qingyun’s turned back. A sliver of hope flickered: could she tiptoe to the door and slip away?

As if sensing her thoughts, a lazy voice drifted from the bed. “There’s an elite squad stationed outside the tent. Escape is impossible.”

Startled, she realized Qingyun hadn’t fallen asleep after all—and he was almost certainly telling the truth.

In a fit of pique, she scraped her stool loudly. The guard, woken by the noise, snapped, “What are you doing? Try anything funny and I’ll tie you up!”

She believed him capable of the most vindictive measures and dared not make another move. In the quiet, drowsiness crept over her, eyelids heavy as lead. Unable to resist, she soon drifted into a doze atop the stool.

The guard, seeing her quiet down, stopped paying attention and slipped into his own dreams.

Who knows how long passed before a loud sound cut through the darkness. The guard jerked awake to find the stool empty. Alarmed, he looked around and spotted her sprawled on the ground, eyes still half-closed in a daze.

She’d fallen off the stool, which was both exasperating and amusing. Rubbing the back of her head, she marveled at the distant, almost numb pain—her mind was still thick with sleep.

A pair of feet approached. The guard looked up, “Strategist…”

With a wave of his sleeve, Qingyun dismissed him. Though confused, the guard wisely withdrew.

Qingyun knelt and scooped her up. Just then, the oil lamp burned out with a hiss, plunging the tent into darkness, though a faint glow was beginning to seep in at the horizon.

Qingyun glanced at the dying flame, then strode forward.

Half-awake, she felt someone’s arms enfold her, laying her atop a soft mat. A gentle hand caressed the bump on her head where she’d fallen.

“Does it still hurt?” A gentle voice sounded above her.

“Much better,” she murmured, brow furrowed, eyes barely open.

His hand drifted from her head to rest lightly at her waist.

Half-dreaming, she instinctively hugged the soft pillow before her—it wasn’t just soft; it carried a faint, soothing fragrance. What was stuffed inside? She wondered, breathing in the scent. It reminded her of the herbal sachets Subin used to let her sniff, stirring half-buried memories.

“Subin…”

Someone echoed her softly.

She didn’t reply. Too tired to care, she burrowed in, seeking a comfortable spot, and surrendered to the exhaustion that crashed over her like a wave.

Her sleep was restless, haunted by nightmares: bloodied soldiers chasing her, inexplicably falling into water, ghostly white figures wavering in the green-lit depths. From afar, the faint, broken wailing of an infant echoed intermittently.

She woke with a start, drenched in cold sweat.

But she wasn’t the only one startled. Right before her, a face loomed in close, retreating in alarm at her sudden scream.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, she came fully awake. The one retreating was the guard, eyes wide in shock, thoroughly unsettled. She felt around for something soft and realized she was lying on bedding—a mattress and quilt.

She made a noise of surprise and looked curiously at the guard. “How did you get so considerate, putting me on the bed?”

The guard, startled by her question, blushed furiously and protested, “It wasn’t me! Why would I put you in the strategist’s bed?”

“If not you, did I climb up here myself in my sleep?” She rubbed her head, vaguely recalling a fall, then looked around. “Where’s Qingyun?”

The guard’s expression was as if he’d swallowed a toad, completely bewildered by a woman who could sleep in another’s bed and remain so nonchalant. He stammered, “The strategist was summoned by the general at dawn. He told me to let you know to get ready.”

“Get ready? For what?” she asked, puzzled.

“He said the general might want to question you shortly.” The guard shifted awkwardly, stealing glances at her.

Now she remembered—the conversation she’d had with Sikong last night was coming back to haunt her. Rubbing the sore spot on her head, she recalled the gentle hand easing her pain, and the soft pillow with its familiar scent. Suddenly, realization dawned. She gasped, her face flushing with embarrassment as she stammered, “Last night, the strategist—did he sleep on this bed?”

The guard rolled his eyes. This woman was truly slow on the uptake. Only now did she realize it? In his flustered state, he couldn’t even answer properly. “Do you people… is it common here for skin-to-skin contact to mean… you know, a promise for life?”

The guard grew even more flustered and snapped, “Don’t even think about it! Our strategist would never marry a woman like you!”

“Thank goodness.” She sighed in relief, patting her chest. Even if she’d ended up in Qingyun’s bed by accident, at least it didn’t mean anything. Besides, after all her close calls with Ji and Subin, neither had ever threatened to marry her.

Thinking carefully, if the pillow and fragrance weren’t a dream, then the pillow was Qingyun himself. Just the thought made her blanch. How humiliating. How was she ever supposed to face anyone again?

Meanwhile, in the general’s tent, the atmosphere was tense as a drawn bow. Sparks seemed to fly in the silent exchange of glances between Qingyun and Sikong.