The room was dimly lit by a single lamp, its faint glow casting intertwining shadows of two mingled breaths. An inkstone ground softly against water, the black pigment gradually thickening in the clear liquid.
Pei Ying's hand trembled slightly as she held the brush. The man behind her encircled her with his arms—firm and unyielding—his scorching body heat seeping through their clothing and into her skin, making her feel as though she were sitting on pins and needles. He was still aroused, his presence pressing against her with undeniable threat. She tried to inch forward subtly, putting distance between herself and Huo Tingshan, but he seemed to sense her intention, tightening his iron-like grip around her.
Now, she was pressed flush against his chest, their bodies intimately entwined.
The ink was ready.
"If Madam regrets this, we may retire early. The night is fleeting," Huo Tingshan murmured, his gaze fixed on the delicate earlobe before him, its jade-like pallor now tinged with a rosy flush, glowing like fine mutton-fat jade under the lamplight—tempting enough to stir desire.
"I don’t regret it!" Pei Ying blurted out.
Huo Tingshan said nothing, only letting his fingers trace idle circles along the curve of her slender waist.
Pei Ying took a deep breath, dipped the brush into the ink, but just as she was about to set it to paper, she suddenly stiffened and turned to face Huo Tingshan. "General, does this mean you’ve agreed?"
From start to finish, he had never actually said yes.
He hadn’t given his word yet!
Her eyes were wide and round—despite already being a mother, they still held an innocence that spoke of a life coddled in luxury, untouched by hardship or cruelty, let alone the desperation of famine and selling children. Huo Tingshan let out a low hum in response.
Pei Ying frowned.
What did that mean? Was it a yes or no?
"General, could you give me a clear answer?" she pressed quietly.
Huo Tingshan glanced at her earlobe, its blush fading slightly, and lifted his other hand to rub it between his fingers, satisfied when the pale skin flushed crimson again. "Madam need not worry. A gentleman’s word is unbreakable."
Her earlobe burned as if touched by embers. Pei Ying turned her head away, her gaze inadvertently catching their reflection in the mirror adorned with cursive grass patterns. The sight sent a wave of heat crashing through her, her heart pounding violently.
She hastily averted her eyes back to the paper, refusing to look at the mirror again, her head bowed low.
Huo Tingshan noticed her reaction and glanced at the mirror before chuckling softly.
In the reflection, the woman in his arms was disheveled—her round-collared robe askew, the hidden ties of her undergarments undone, her clothes slipping precariously to reveal swathes of creamy skin. Rosy marks trailed from her ear down to the tiny crimson mole above her heart, blooming like vivid flowers painted upon her flesh.
He held her from behind, their closeness leaving no space between them, their intimacy undeniable.
"Madam is truly peerless," Huo Tingshan praised.
The compliment sent a chill down Pei Ying’s spine. She dared not delay further, steadying herself and pushing aside all distractions as she finally began to write.
Huo Tingshan had assumed she was drafting something, but instead, she was drawing.
An unusual style of art, unlike any he had seen before. The horse’s head was round, its belly plump, even its hooves drawn with soft, chubby curves—playful and endearing.
Pei Ying was sketching in a chibi style, simple and quick.
"The soldiers in your army currently use padded saddles. While comfortable, they don’t improve a rider’s balance on horseback," she explained, recalling the cavalrymen she had seen outside the Meng residence earlier that day.
The two riders who had emerged from the street had been using exactly that kind of saddle.
The hand at her waist, which had been teasing her all this while, stilled. Encouraged, Pei Ying drew another horse. "I suggest replacing them with this."
Her brush moved steadily, outlining a saddle with a distinct "U" shape. "This is a high-cantle saddle. You should consider adopting it."
The high-cantle saddle, named for its raised front and back resembling a bridge when inverted, secured the rider’s hips, preventing them from swaying forward or backward—drastically improving stability.
Huo Tingshan paused, his eyes alight with realization, but before he could speak, Pei Ying continued.
"The high-cantle saddle is far superior to the padded one, especially when paired with stirrups..." She kept drawing.
Historically, stirrups appeared after high-cantle saddles. In this era, where even the latter was unheard of, stirrups were unimaginable.
Without stirrups, riders had to rely on gripping the horse’s sides with their legs to free their hands. But galloping horses were unstable, and not all soldiers had the leg strength to maintain control. As a result, in battle, fewer than one in ten cavalrymen could effectively wield weapons with both hands.
Stirrups solved this problem effortlessly. In the age of cold weapons, the combination of stirrups and high-cantle saddles unlocked the full potential of cavalry, transforming them into a nation’s most formidable asset.
"With stirrups, any rider—so long as they have hands and feet—can fight unhindered. Bows and halberds become universally usable. Not just one against two, but skilled riders could take on three." Pei Ying meticulously sketched the stirrups, a detail absent in this era, ensuring clarity.
The horse in her drawing wasn’t large, so she added an arrow pointing to a separate circle where she magnified the stirrup’s design, as if zooming in on a specific part.
Engrossed in her work, she didn’t notice the blazing intensity in the man’s narrowed eyes behind her—a gaze brimming with ambition and ruthless determination.
With the final stroke, the stirrup was complete. She set down the brush and tried to push away the arm still locked around her waist. This time, the unyielding limb relented. Pei Ying quickly slipped off Huo Tingshan’s lap. "General, now you must believe me."
Huo Tingshan rose from the chair, snatched the paper from the table, and strode out without a word. Pei Ying couldn’t bring herself to look at him, so she missed the deep, lingering glance he cast her way before leaving.
Only when his towering figure vanished entirely did the weight in her chest finally lift.
Heat still simmered within her, but the relief of being alone at last eased her tension. The moment she relaxed, her limbs turned weak, her legs barely able to support her. Forced to steady herself, Pei Ying sank back into the chair.
The high-cantle saddle and stirrups would be enough to safeguard her and her daughter. Once the drug’s effects wore off, she would take her child and go home.
By the time Huo Tingshan returned to the front courtyard, Hao Wu and the others had already been dismissed. Xiong Mao and Sha Ying were deep in a drinking contest, while Gongsun Liang and Chen Shichang, both military advisors, were engrossed in a game of chess.
The match had just concluded—Gongsun Liang won by three moves.
"General?" Xiong Mao, still sober despite his heavy drinking, spotted Huo Tingshan striding toward them. His first thought was of the beautiful woman the officers had presented earlier.
That petty constable must have exaggerated, otherwise how could the general have returned so quickly? He had said it himself—what kind of beauty could possibly come from a small place like Beichuan County, let alone one worthy of comparison to Concubine Li? Utterly ridiculous.
Xiong Mao slammed his wine cup onto the table with a loud clang. "That damned constable dared to spin tales, tricking the general with some old crone’s nonsense! General, please wait here—I’ll go drag those constables back and cut out their lying tongues!"
Huo Tingshan shot him a glance. "You’re the one with too much to say."
Xiong Mao choked, his alcohol-flushed face turning as red as a monkey’s backside.
Unlike Xiong Mao’s impulsiveness, Sha Ying quickly noticed that Huo Tingshan’s attire was slightly disheveled, as if he had hastily thrown his black robe back on after removing it. And below the waist—well, as a man himself, he could tell at a glance that the general was clearly pent up. Yet for some reason, he had returned.
Perhaps the so-called beauty who supposedly outshone Concubine Li was merely plain, and the general couldn’t bring himself to take a bite. But that didn’t seem quite right either—if that were the case, the general wouldn’t have bothered responding to Xiong Mao earlier.
Puzzled, Sha Ying began considering finding a lovely maiden to serve him.
Gongsun Liang, older and more observant than Sha Ying and the others, noticed the paper in Huo Tingshan’s hand. "My lord, do you have an announcement to make?"
Huo Tingshan strode to the table with the fewest dishes. Too impatient to order it cleared, he simply swept everything off with a swing of his arm.
The clatter of falling tableware shattered the warm, drunken merriment in the room.
Everyone froze, unsure of what had provoked this, and dared not make a sound.
Sha Ying immediately abandoned his earlier plan. The general seemed in a foul mood—likely in no state for distractions.
"My lord?" Gongsun Liang asked, alarmed. In recent years, their lord had grown increasingly composed, unshaken even if Mount Tai crumbled before him. Rarely had he ever acted with such urgency as today.
Huo Tingshan raised his voice. "All of you, come here."
They hurried forward and saw the paper spread across the table, depicting two horses in a strange artistic style they had never seen before—yet surprisingly vivid and charming.
At first glance, their eyes were drawn to the brushstrokes. On the second, they focused on the horses themselves. Both were drawn the same way, but the differences were immediately obvious.
Most of those present were seasoned military men, experts in warfare, and they recognized the implications at once.
Yes—if the saddle’s front and back were raised higher, a rider could stabilize themselves much better. And with these loops at the bottom to secure the feet, their hands could be freed from the reins.
Shock rippled through them, followed by a surge of exhilaration that flushed their faces red. Xiong Mao reached out several times to touch the second horse on the paper, only for Sha Ying to repeatedly smack his hand away.
"Don’t touch it! What if you damage it?"
"Don’t act like I didn’t see you sneak a feel earlier yourself!"
"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"
"General, once these are made, could I get a set first? I want to try them out!"
......
Huo Tingshan let them marvel for a while before folding the paper and handing it to Sha Ying. "Sha Ying, take the Western Garrison and set out for Youzhou tonight. Deliver this blueprint to the Armory Directorate without fail. They are to produce two thousand sets of high-cantle saddles and stirrups within ten days."
Sha Ying, electrified by the order, trembled slightly as he accepted the paper. "I stake my life on delivering this blueprint safely!"
Huo Tingshan waved him off.
Under the envious gazes of the others, Sha Ying strode out, chest puffed with pride.
"General, should we make a copy of the blueprint?" Xiong Mao suddenly thought to ask.
Sha Ying, already at the door, skidded to a halt.
Huo Tingshan: "No need."
Sha Ying guessed that a copy had likely already been made. Satisfied, he left.
Chen Shichang sighed in admiration. "My lord, the person who drew this is a genius of heaven-sent talent. If they are still alive, you must recruit them at all costs."
Huo Tingshan smiled, eyes narrowing. "Naturally."
