208: Chapter 206

The three of them had known each other since they were very young.

The Third Prince, her, and Shen Yizhi.

At that time, the Third Prince was just an unfavored prince; his mother was of low birth, with no backing in the inner palace and no supporters in the imperial court.

He was arranged to live in the most remote corner of the imperial palace, far away from the favored princes, like a forgotten person.

Qin Zhao's father was the Third Prince's first Martial Master; she had followed her father in and out of the Third Prince's residence since she was a child, and they gradually became close.

Shen Yizhi's grandfather was the Third Prince's first Literacy Teacher, and he also followed his grandfather in and out of the Third Prince's residence.

The three children were of similar age, and with no other playmates, they naturally came together.

The Third Prince had the best talent.

He was like one favored by the heavens; his Cultivate speed was lightning-fast, and he could learn anything instantly, understanding with just a hint.

His resources were also the best—not because he was favored, but because his mother spent all her savings on him, and a few frustrated veteran officials secretly funded him, barely sustaining his path of Cultivate.

But he was very lonely.

There were no true friends by his side.

Those who approached him were either trying to climb the royal ladder through him, looking to profit from him, or were ordered to monitor him.

The only ones who truly treated him as a person were Qin Zhao and Shen Yizhi.

Qin Zhao's talent was second.

She had an unyielding resilience in her bones and refused to admit defeat since childhood.

Since the Third Prince was stronger than her, she practiced desperately, until the skin on her hands wore away layer after layer, and she couldn't even hold her sword.

Her resources were average, and she often relied on the Third Prince's help, but she never took anything for free.

When the Third Prince gave her Spirit Stones, she would do hard labor for him—running errands, delivering letters, fighting—she did it all.

Her cultivation level always followed closely behind the Third Prince's; though she never caught up, she was never left too far behind.

Shen Yizhi's talent was the worst.

His Spiritual Root was mixed and his Aptitude mediocre; without external help, he might not have even reached Foundation Establishment.

His cultivation level was entirely built up by the Third Prince's resources; for this, the Third Prince spent a vast amount of Spirit Stones and Medicinal Pills to force him into the Golden Core.

But such a cultivation level was hollow, possessing only the Realm but no combat power.

If it really came to a fight, he might not even be able to defeat someone at the Early Golden Core Stage.

Worse still, because his Foundation was unstable, his body developed many ailments.

He coughed frequently, his face was pale, and he would sometimes develop a fever for no reason.

Qin Zhao had seen him coughing up blood; it was after a military meeting that lasted three days and nights, and the blood he coughed up stained his handkerchief red.

But Shen Yizhi's mind was the best among the three.

He had been exceptionally intelligent since childhood, learning everything instantly and being able to infer much from a single point.

He never forgot the books he read, the people he met, or the words he heard.

He was especially skilled at reading people's expressions.

Perhaps his childhood experience of being looked down upon in his Family taught him to observe others carefully.

He could judge a person's true thoughts from their eyes, tone, and subtle movements.

Even the Third Prince felt inferior in this regard.

The three of them grew up together and experienced many things.

Cultivating together, fighting together, being punished together, being mocked together, being slighted together, and climbing out of the mire together.

Qin Zhao was still young then, a young girl with her first stirrings of love.

She admired the Third Prince, thinking him powerful, perfect, and omnipotent.

She thought that was love, thought she liked the Third Prince.

She peeked at him secretly, embroidered pouches for him secretly, and deliberately lost to him while practicing swordplay just so he would look at her more.

Thinking back now, those youthful years seem like a lifetime ago.

Hundreds of years have passed.

Following them, she grew from a young girl into a blood-and-iron general.

Having experienced countless battles and seen into countless hearts, she gradually shed those unrealistic fantasies of her girlhood.

She discovered that the Third Prince—or rather, all princes—were not as perfect as they appeared on the surface.

They were of the royal Bloodline, swept into the whirlpool of power from birth.

They were accustomed to calculating, accustomed to being on guard, and accustomed to hiding their true emotions behind masks. They could smile in front of you and sell you out the next moment. They could cry in front of you and still plot against you after they finished.

They were like beasts in human skin; even if they enjoyed the feeling of wearing that skin and even deceived themselves, the things in their bones could not fool those who truly knew them.

It wasn't that Qin Zhao no longer liked the Third Prince.

It was just that her love had changed from a young girl's admiration into the trust of a comrade-in-arms and the loyalty of a subject.

She was willing to die for the Third Prince, but she would not sleep peacefully by his side.

No one by the Third Prince's side could sleep peacefully.

Shen Yizhi was different.

Beside Shen Yizhi, she felt at ease.

It wasn't the kind of peace that came from "not losing as long as he's there," but the kind where "one doesn't need to be on guard as long as he's there."

She could take off her armor before him, put down her longsword, prop her feet on the table, eat meat and drink wine heartily, and talk nonsense.

He wouldn't mock her, look down on her, or look at her with that scrutinizing gaze.

He would just sit there, sometimes reading, sometimes drinking tea, sometimes doing nothing at all, just keeping her company.

Sitting beside him, she would unconsciously fall asleep and have long dreams where everything existed and everything was beautiful.

When she woke up, her body would always be covered by his outer robe. He would be sitting aside, quietly watching her.

Xue Ji listened in a daze and nodded as if she partially understood.

It wasn't that she didn't understand emotions; she just didn't understand this kind of restrained, patient, unspoken affection.

In her tribe, liking someone meant liking them, and wanting something meant wanting it.

She had been taught since childhood to snatch what she fancied; if she couldn't snatch it, she'd steal it; if she couldn't steal it, she'd deceive for it.

There was nothing she didn't dare to do.

“So,” Xue Ji asked tentatively, “what you like is this... feeling Shen Yizhi gives you?”

Qin Zhao nodded.

“Then what does Shen Yizhi like about you?”

Qin Zhao's expression darkened for a moment.

She lowered her head and looked at her calloused hands.

These hands had held swords, drawn bows, killed people, and saved people. They were strong, steady, and never trembled. But at this moment, they shook slightly.

“He doesn't like me,” Qin Zhao said in a very soft voice. “He has a wife.”

Xue Ji slapped the table and stood up.

Her eyes widened, her mouth fell open, and she let out a shout: “What?!”

The sound was so loud it startled several birds in the trees outside the courtyard.

Qin Zhao was startled and looked up at her.

Xue Ji stood there, her chest heaving violently, as if a breath was stuck in her throat, unable to go up or down.

Qin Zhao didn't look at her.

She picked up a jar of starry river drunken shadow dew from the table and took a large gulp straight from the jar.

The liquor overflowed from the corner of her mouth, dripping down her chin onto her armor, but she didn't wipe it away.

Xue Ji snatched the wine jar from her hand, placed it on the table, and glared at her.

“And you're doing nothing?”

Xue Ji's voice carried an urgency, frustrated that she wasn't living up to her potential. “Don't you plan to express your feelings?”

Qin Zhao glanced at her.

That glance was complex, filled with helplessness, bitterness, relief, and something else that was hard to define.

She was silent for a moment, then spoke slowly, her voice so low that Xue Ji almost had to lean in to hear.

“I don't dare.”

Xue Ji stunned.

She looked at Qin Zhao as if meeting this woman for the first time.

Qin Zhao, the Third Prince's trusted general, the commander of the Black Armor Army, someone who never frowned while charging in and out of battlefields.

She wasn't even afraid of death, yet she said she didn't dare.

“Why don't you dare?” Xue Ji's voice lowered, no longer urgent but carrying a cautious probe. “You are a Great General who has fought countless battles and isn't afraid of death. What is there to fear?”

Qin Zhao's gaze fell on the stone slabs in the courtyard, watching the mist drift faintly under the moonlight.

She looked for a long time, then spoke.

“When fighting abroad, I can still find excuses to go back. If I'm injured, I go back to recover. When the battle is over, I go back to report. If I pass by his station, I go in to ask for a cup of tea.”

Her voice was very calm, as if she were talking about someone else's business. “If I truly said it, I might not even have those excuses anymore. If he rejected me, I wouldn't even have the face to see him in the future. If he agreed out of politeness, that's even less what I want. If he...”

She paused. “If he didn't dare to refuse because of my status or because of the Third Prince, then what would be the point?”

Xue Ji lay on the table, her chin resting on the back of her hand, her eyes looking at the moonlight in the courtyard.

Her tail had slipped out from under her dress at some point, pure white and flawless, swaying gently in the moonlight.

“You humans,” she murmured, “are truly hard to understand.”

Qin Zhao picked up the wine jar and took another gulp.

“It's not that hard to understand.” She wiped the corner of her mouth. “His cultivation talent isn't good, and he's been by the Third Prince's side since childhood. That Family of his, as you know, is a minor household with no deep heritage. When the Shen Family saw the Third Prince rising, they wanted to attach themselves to him and made him enter a political marriage. His status within the Family was low, and he had no right to refuse. The daughter of that house had also supported the Third Prince for a long time, which was like providing charcoal in the snow. Now that the Third Prince's status is high, that Family's status has also risen. This marriage was tacitly approved by the Third Prince back then, and it's not easy to go back on it now.”

Xue Ji didn't speak.

She lay on the table, her eyes half-closed, her tail swaying back and forth.

Qin Zhao continued, “If I express my feelings, it would be a burden to him, a trouble for the Third Prince, and an injury to that woman. It would be hard on him, hard on the Third Prince, and hard on that woman. What does my little bit of sentiment matter? It's better this way.”

She put down the wine jar and leaned against the back of the chair, looking at the starry sky above. “This is quite good.”

Xue Ji lay on the table, her thoughts unknown.

Her tail stopped moving, and her eyes closed; her breathing was light, as if she were asleep, yet perhaps not.

Qin Zhao gazed at the stars in the sky.

Looking at those stars, she suddenly remembered many years ago when the three of them were still small, watching the stars together in a remote corner of the imperial palace.

The Third Prince sat on the highest rock, Shen Yizhi sat on the steps, and she lay on the grass.

Back then, there were no worries, just watching the stars.

Now she was also watching the stars, but she was alone.

She suddenly thought, after Xue Ji leaves, could she also go back? Back to the front lines, back to the battlefield, back to that place of flashing blades and flying flesh.

There, she wouldn't have to think about these messy things; she would only need to kill enemies, only need to survive, only need to return.

Return to where? She didn't think about it.

Maybe back to the Third Prince's side, maybe back to Shen Yizhi's side, or maybe just back to her own tent.

It was all the same.