Chapter Sixty-Five: Confrontation

Dayin’s wounds had not yet healed, so the post station had specially prepared a carriage for her. Holding Kaiming’s hand, she boarded the carriage, then lay sideways on the soft cushions inside.

A maid hurried out from the post station and respectfully presented a set of clothes. Dayin took them, and the maid withdrew.

The gates of the post station swung open, and the carriage rumbled out, its wheels creaking. At the entrance, a crowd of soldiers had gathered, weapons gleaming, banners fluttering in the wind. At a single command, the long procession began its march toward the Central Palace.

Dayin tossed the clothes to Kaiming. “Change into these.” She reclined on the cushions, eyes half-closed, resting.

Kaiming took the clothes, turning slightly to remove her torn outer robe and put on the new attire.

“Wait!” Dayin called softly. Her voice carried an unassailable authority; Kaiming dared not move.

Dayin lifted the fabric covering Kaiming’s back and touched the bruises, her brows knitting together. “What’s this about?” Her fingers pressed against the sore spots, making Kaiming flinch; she bumped into the edge of the bed—it truly hurt.

Surprised, Dayin examined her closely. From neck to body, Kaiming was marked with bruises, even a bite mark at the corner of her mouth.

“Was this Xuan’s doing?” Dayin asked, looking intently at her. Kaiming could not meet her gaze and only nodded faintly.

Dayin drew in a sharp breath. “Xuan has always been such a gentle man. How could he… how is it possible…”

Kaiming said nothing in her own defense, pulled up the clothes, and dressed silently, but inwardly she sneered. Yes, he was gentle to you—he was at first, to me as well. If not for the truth coming to light, who would have known he could be so violent? Maybe he had his reasons, or perhaps something weighed on his mind, otherwise he would not have treated you so.

Dayin sighed softly. Kaiming’s inner sneer deepened. The two of you are ever so eager to excuse each other.

“Perhaps he truly likes you,” Dayin mused, her gaze lingering on Kaiming. “Only with those he loves does one reveal true nature. To others, it’s always just polite pretense…”

“General,” Kaiming cut her off quickly, lowering her gaze submissively. “I would rather he treated me as he does others.” Dayin made a small sound of surprise. Kaiming lifted her eyes, her lips curling in a sardonic smile. “Besides, I do not believe Xuan harbors such feelings for me as you suppose.”

Dayin was taken aback, silently regarding her, then smiled. “You truly are different, Kaiming. No wonder Changgeng risked his life to come save you. No wonder Ji can’t forget you. And no wonder Xuan treats you as he does…”

“What are you saying, General?” Kaiming’s brows rose, a flicker of anger stirring within. If Dayin’s reasoning held, then Xuan’s violence toward her was somehow justified? She could never believe a husband who tried to force himself on his wife was a good man, even if she had provoked him with that slap.

“Oh, is someone jealous?” Dayin remarked with a sigh.

Kaiming paused, considering the recent chain of events. Why had he been mocking her? Why was he so reluctant to let her go? Had affection grown over time?

“No, that can’t be,” she shook her head.

Dayin, with the clarity of an outsider, chuckled. “If he didn’t care, why would he give you half of this jade?”

“This is jade?” Kaiming fingered the pendant at her neck, glancing at Dayin. “Is it valuable?”

Dayin laughed softly. “The money hardly matters. This jade was once a single piece. I gave half to him, so that in the future, searching for a child… for him, it would be easier. Who could have guessed he would pass it on to you?”

Kaiming was stunned. So this pendant was a gift from Dayin to Xuan, and he had hung it around her own neck—what did that mean?

“He truly put his heart into it.” Dayin’s smile faded. “He feared that if something happened to you on the battlefield, and you were lucky enough to meet me, you’d at least have a way out.”

A subtle string in Kaiming’s heart was plucked. She remembered the night before leaving: Xuan had gazed quietly at the sky and remarked, almost to himself, “This time, perhaps I’ll see her.” Only now did she realize the "her" he spoke of was Dayin. But the brutal scene from moments ago surged in her mind, drowning any trace of warmth.

“I’m sorry, General,” she lowered her lashes, voice soft. “I still cannot forgive him.”

Dayin did not press her, simply shifted into a more comfortable position and murmured, half to herself, “He is a pitiable child—proud, yet fragile…”

Kaiming looked at her curiously. Dayin’s tone was that of an elder speaking of the younger generation. Could it be that, from start to finish, she had never felt anything for Xuan? Judging from Xuan’s own words, it was nothing but unrequited love.

The one Dayin loved was that man, the one who lived behind the high palace walls.

Neither spoke again. Dayin closed her eyes and dozed, while Kaiming tried to relax and sleep, but her mind was a chaotic mess, with noisy echoes ringing in her ears.

Suddenly, she snapped her eyes open—the carriage had come to an unexpected halt.

A light knock sounded at the carriage. “General, it is the third watch. Shall we eat before continuing?”

Dayin sat up and replied, “Very well. Let everyone rest for a while.”

A reply came from outside, and footsteps receded.

In Dayin’s presence, Kaiming always felt awkward and uneasy. She regretted getting on the carriage, but at the time there had been no other choice.

Seeing soldiers deliver food to the carriage, she hastily searched for an excuse. “General, I just remembered there’s something I need to tell Gouzi…”

“You’re in no condition to go out,” Dayin glanced at the food and sat up straight. “Eat with me.”

“Well, um…” Kaiming slapped her thigh as if struck by inspiration. “General, I need to… relieve myself outside!” Her voice was so loud that even the soldier delivering food stared at her in astonishment.

Embarrassed, she scratched her head, understanding what they must think.

Dayin raised her lips in a slight smile, sensing Kaiming’s discomfort. “Go on, but don’t wander too far.”

Gratefully, Kaiming hopped out.

Outside, it was pitch black except for the flickering of fires where soldiers cooked. The night breeze was cool. She wandered aimlessly, not sure why, but in Dayin’s presence, she always felt stifled, as if pressed down by an overwhelming force. Was Dayin her nemesis? From their very first meeting, had their fates been entwined in conflict?

“Kaiming!” someone called her name.

She stopped, trying to see who it was.

A figure darted through the firelight, rushing to her side, glancing around before pulling her down into a crouch.

She finally saw—it was Gouzi.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, puzzled.

His expression was even stranger. He stared at her intently. “You ask me what’s wrong? I should ask you! What happened? Why did you suddenly get on the General’s carriage?”

She hesitated, unable to answer.

Gouzi suddenly reached out and touched the bruise at the corner of her mouth. She winced in pain and smacked his hand away, knocking him on the head for good measure. “What are you doing?”

Gouzi clutched his head, wailing, “I’m worried about you! Why hit me?”

“It hurts!” she clutched her mouth and cried even louder.

Gouzi quickly shushed her, and she realized their commotion had drawn glances from the soldiers nearby. She fell silent, and Gouzi whispered tensely, “Who did this to you? Who hurt you so?”

She couldn’t answer—how could she say her own husband had tried to force himself on her? The shame would kill her.

Gouzi’s eyes spun as he made a guess. “Was it your husband?”

She stared, and Gouzi saw the answer on her face. “I always thought you were the fierce one—how could your husband do this? He looks so gentle…”

Before he could finish, she thumped him on the head again.

“Damn you, Gouzi, whose side are you on?” Her voice boomed like thunder.

Gouzi hurried to apologize to the soldiers around them, who were already glaring.

He turned back to Kaiming, who still looked indignant, cheeks puffed out. Gouzi leaned in, hesitating. “Kaiming, what’s going on with you and your husband? He risked his life to save you, yet as soon as you returned you started fighting. If Changgeng hadn’t heard the commotion and told me to fetch the General, who knows what would have happened!”

Kaiming’s eyes widened. It was Changgeng who had Gouzi call Dayin? She was confused. What a mess!

Suddenly Gouzi stared at her neck, his eyes glazed. “What’s this?”

His cold fingers touched her neck, making her gasp. Gouzi saw the bruises there.

She quickly dodged and covered her neck. Gouzi’s mouth hung open in shock. “These marks… these must be…”

She tensed, and, as she feared, Gouzi lowered his voice, “Did he force you?”

“No!” she snapped angrily.

Gouzi grew upset, his voice rising. “Then how did you get these marks? Did you do this to yourself? Anyone with eyes can see these are…”

“Shut up!” she growled, standing abruptly. Her gaze swept across the camp, suddenly freezing. Gouzi, puzzled, followed her eyes. Not far away, beside a low tree, stood a solitary figure in white, his face cold and unreadable in the firelight, but his anger was obvious.

With a sudden crack, the man broke off a branch, tossed it aside, and strode away.

“Changgeng!” Kaiming stammered.

How long had he been standing there? Had he heard everything?

“Gouzi, Gouzi!” she called urgently. “Something’s wrong, hurry after Commander Changgeng!”

“Right!” Gouzi sensed trouble and dashed off, vanishing into the dark.

Kaiming paced anxiously, a sense of impending storm pressing down on her, until Dayin sent someone to call her back.

“I saved a bowl of rice for you,” Dayin said, frowning at Kaiming’s pale face. “What happened?”

“Nothing, nothing!” Kaiming answered hurriedly, grabbing the bowl and gulping a few bites before a soldier came rushing over.

“General! General, something’s wrong!”

Her hand trembled, the bowl clattered to the ground. Dayin’s stern gaze turned to her.

No longer caring how she appeared, Kaiming’s heart pounded with dread. Something terrible had happened—truly happened! (To be continued…)