Lingcheng was a vast and sparsely populated city, yet it shouldn’t have had so many laborers. The county magistrate of Lingcheng was a man in his early thirties, a scholar who had passed the imperial examinations the previous spring and was assigned here as an official.
The magistrate of Lingnan bowed respectfully and answered truthfully, "General Sun, the flood in Nanzhou requires the construction of dams. Since Nanzhou lacks manpower, the laborers exiled to Lingnan were all sent here to build embankments and defend against the floods. But rest assured, General, the rations allocated by the court have not been withheld. Even the lowest-ranking laborers receive two bowls of porridge daily."
Sun Qingmei swept her gaze over the laborers. Under the silver moonlight, they all looked exhausted, huddled against the walls in sheltered spots, fast asleep. Yet none appeared emaciated.
Shelters had been set up in the city, with five or six porridge stations where the laborers lined up for their meals.
Without another word, Sun Qingmei spurred her horse toward the official residence.
Just as she reached the gate, a woman in plain clothes rushed out from nowhere, darting in front of the deputy general’s horse. Startled, the horse reared, and the deputy quickly pulled on the reins.
The warhorse lifted its hooves, nearly kicking the woman.
The deputy general was alarmed and scowled, shouting, "Where did you come from? Do you have a death wish, charging at a horse like that?"
The slender woman trembled, kneeling before the horse, her body shrinking in fear, looking pitifully delicate.
Under the bright moonlight, she lifted her head, revealing a delicate, timid face. "This humble girl deserves death for disturbing the general. Please forgive my offense," she whispered, tears glistening like rain on pear blossoms.
She looked utterly pitiful.
The deputy general, accustomed to the rough company of soldiers and fierce women in Liangzhou, had never seen such a delicate beauty. For a moment, he was spellbound.
Seeing his reaction, the woman deliberately coughed, clutching her chest as if on the verge of fainting.
"General, it was my fault. I’ll leave now," she murmured, brows furrowed in feigned distress.
After taking two steps, she pretended to collapse.
The deputy scratched his head, awkwardly clarifying, "I’m just a deputy commander, not a general. Please don’t address me wrongly, miss."
The woman in plain clothes froze, then instinctively turned toward another horse nearby. In the darkness, a black steeld carried Sun Qingmei, clad in armor.
Sun Qingmei wore no makeup, her hair tied high with two loose strands framing her face. Her eyes were dark and weary from days of travel, shadows beneath them.
Her nose was straight, her brows exuding a heroic air.
The woman gaped, rubbing her eyes in disbelief. "Sister-in-law? Is that you?"
After a closer look, her face lit up with joy. "Sister-in-law, it’s me, Shangguan Qian! You must recognize me!"
The woman was indeed Shangguan Qian.
Years ago, Sun Qingmei had married Shangguan Xuan of Yanjing City, bringing with her a lavish dowry. Later, they divorced, and the entire Shangguan family was exiled to Lingnan.
No one expected their paths to cross again in this small town of Lingcheng.
Shangguan Qian clung to this lifeline, throwing herself at Sun Qingmei’s horse, sobbing. "Sister-in-law, please help me! My life is unbearable. Take me back to Yanjing City, please!"
No longer the noble daughter of a marquis’ household, she had been reduced to the lowest laborer, toiling endlessly, living a wretched existence.
When the floods struck Nanzhou, exiled officials and their families were forced there—men hauling stones for dams, women sewing coarse cloth and cooking.
Shangguan Qian couldn’t bear it.
She refused to accept her fate.
Hearing that a great general would visit Lingcheng today, she had waited outside the residence, hoping to attract attention. If luck favored her, she might even win the general’s favor and escape her misery.
Discovering that the famed general was her sister-in-law, Shangguan Qian was overjoyed—her chance had come.
Sun Qingmei looked down coldly from her horse. "I severed ties with the Shangguan family long ago."
With that, she rode into the residence.
The deputy general followed, ignoring Shangguan Qian’s tearful pleas.
The heavy gates shut behind them, leaving Shangguan Qian stunned outside.
She pounded on the doors, wailing, "Sister-in-law, don’t be so heartless! Help me, help my brother! He’s here too—I’ll make him apologize!"
The guards showed no patience, dragging the hysterical woman back to the textile workshop to resume her labor.
...
...
Sun Qingmei rested briefly, waking before dawn to a simple meal before riding out of Lingcheng once more.
The laborers stirred awake, lining up for porridge.
"Make way!"
Two horses galloped past, forcing the crowd to scatter.
Someone muttered, "Who are they? Armored—generals from somewhere?"
"Rumor says they’re from Liangzhou, on orders to Yanjing City."
"So imposing. The one in front—a female general?"
"Yes, General Sun of Liangzhou. Last year, when barbarians attacked the border, she led the charge and drove them back three hundred miles."
The laborers buzzed with chatter.
Among them, a gaunt young man stood in line, clutching a chipped bowl, his expression hollow. He was Shangguan Xuan, once a glorious general, now exiled to Lingnan.
Hearing the name "General Sun," his dull eyes flickered with confusion, his gaze slowly lifting.
A spring breeze rustled the young general’s hair as she rode past with effortless grace.
It was Sun Qingmei.
No longer the demure lady of the household, but a heroic warrior.
The horse vanished like lightning. Shangguan Xuan stared at the retreating figure, then suddenly laughed—a low, broken sound.
His laughter turned to sobs, his face buried in his hands.
...
...
In the palace.
Days slipped by. Ten days had passed since Shen Wei fell unconscious from poisoning, her condition worsening by the day.
She clung to life by a thread.
After court duties, Li Yuanjing would sit by her bedside, watching helplessly as she faded like a wilting spring flower.
One night, Yongning Palace was steeped in the scent of medicine. Le You perched on a stool beside the bed, tilting her head to ask, "Father, when will Mother wake up?"
Li Yuanjing stroked her hair. "In a few days."
Le You lowered her head, tears dripping silently onto the rug.
Holding Shen Wei’s cold hand, Li Yuanjing tried to warm it, as if that alone could keep her alive.
This time, his fingers brushed her wrist—and he felt it.
A pulse so faint it was nearly gone.
His mind reeled. "Summon Moxun—now!"
