Isn’t the heavy frost but the snow upon my heart?

“You petty criminals, release my son at once and surrender. I may yet spare your lives!” To spare their lives was the greatest mercy His Majesty the Emperor could offer.

The assassins all wore masks twisted into grim, monstrous visages. The leader held the Prince of Chu by the throat, unmoved by the emperor’s negotiation.

“To spare our lives? What magnanimity from Your Majesty!” The voice was tinged with mockery.

The emperor had always despised being threatened. He was about to erupt in fury, but the Prince of Qi stayed his hand. “Father, the Eighth Prince is still in their grasp. We must not act rashly.”

“I propose an exchange. Take me as your hostage and let my brother go.” At some point, Fu Lancheng had stepped into the very heart of the encirclement, the closest of all to the assassins.

“Fifth Brother, don’t come closer. I am not afraid.” Even with a hand clamped around his neck, young Fu Xun worried for his elder brother.

“Fu Lancheng! Get back here this instant!” The emperor was so incensed he shouted the crown prince’s full name.

At least he did not shout “unfilial son.”

The emperor’s roar was heard by all within the camp, including Xu Guiyi, who was still trying to force her way past the Crane Guard.

The guards must have thought to themselves: the crown prince is worrisome, and so is the crown princess.

The assassin leader spoke, his voice cold as ice. “Your Highness, we do not seek your life, nor that of the Prince of Chu. What we want is the dog emperor’s head.”

“You wish to save your brother? Fine! Exchange him for the dog emperor’s life!”

Fu Lancheng continued to approach the assassins, while the emperor finally lost his composure. “What is the crown prince doing? Bring him back to me at once!”

But Fu Lancheng paid no heed to his father’s roar, focusing solely on the man holding the Prince of Chu. “Wen Zhi, you know as well as I do—you cannot kill my father. If you do not wish for your men to perish here today, you’ll have no choice but to take a prince as your hostage and retreat. My brother is too young, too fragile. Take me instead, and I will not resist.”

At last, the assassin called Wen Zhi’s eyes flickered with emotion. He snapped, “Fu Lancheng, are you not afraid that I’ll kill you?”

Fu Lancheng simply tossed aside his sword, standing empty-handed. “See? I am unarmed. Take me instead.”

Wen Zhi barked, “Come over here yourself.”

And so, Xu Guiyi watched helplessly as the assassin’s sword was pressed to Fu Lancheng’s throat.

“Your Highness!” came a chorus of shocked cries. But what happened next was even more astonishing: the Prince of Chu was released, yet clung stubbornly to Fu Lancheng’s sleeve, unwilling to leave. The emperor was beside himself with anger and worry, and the Prince of Qi feared his father might faint from rage at any moment.

“Xiao Ba, go back—return to Father.” Fu Lancheng was anxious; not for fear that the assassins would harm the Prince of Chu, but because this child’s heart was too gentle—such a nature was a liability at court.

“Fifth Brother, I won’t go.” Now even Wen Zhi seemed tempted to send the boy flying with a kick. Fortunately, Fu Xun’s voice was too soft for the emperor to hear, or the old man might have died of apoplexy then and there.

“Fu Xun, obey!” Only when Fu Lancheng shouted did the child finally begin to retreat.

The Prince of Qi saw and quickly dispatched men to fetch the Prince of Chu.

One prince returned, but now the crown prince was lost. Commander Zhang Wei of the Qilin Army and Chief Commander Zhao Gao of the Crane Guard both gripped the hilts of their swords, tense.

No matter how out of favor, the crown prince was still the heir apparent. Should any harm befall him today, their own heads would surely roll, lost to the snows of Jiulong Mountain.

Wen Zhi cast a sidelong glance at the crowd. “Tell me, Your Highness—if I kill you today, will your father not simply name the Prince of Qi as heir tomorrow?”

Fu Lancheng laughed at himself. “Perhaps so. Why don’t you try and see?”

Wen Zhi looked at Fu Lancheng coldly. “I have never seen a crown prince so heedless of his own life.”

Fu Lancheng, held hostage, showed not the slightest trace of fear. “If you truly meant to kill me, I would have been dead long ago. I would not have lived to see this day.”

Wen Zhi retorted, “I will not kill the Prince of Chu, it’s true. But why not you? After all, you share the dog emperor’s blood. We are mortal enemies; to kill you is only justice—father’s debt repaid by the son.”

Again, the Prince of Qi tried to negotiate, speaking earnestly and persuasively, but Wen Zhi barely glanced at him. The standoff dragged on.

Suddenly, someone told the empress that the crown prince was taken hostage. She rushed out, weeping and screaming, and with Xu Guiyi’s commotion as well, all those present were thrown into turmoil.

Wen Zhi seized the moment, dragging Fu Lancheng into the forest.

“After them! The crown prince must be saved!” The emperor gave the order, and the imperial guards and Crane Guard rushed in pursuit.

“My son, my son!” The empress’s wails were heart-rending, her face ashen. No one could console her. Xu Guiyi had no choice but to push through the crowd and support her.

“Mother!” But it was no use—the only one who could calm the empress now was the crown prince himself.

Xu Guiyi looked back, but Fu Lancheng and the assassins had vanished. Her heart was frantic, but she could not abandon the empress. Tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks.

The air was filled with shouts—some calling for His Majesty, others for the empress. Xu Guiyi felt as if the whole world was collapsing—a haze with no haven in sight.

“Mother, let us return. Father will surely bring His Highness home.” As they half-carried, half-dragged her, the empress stumbled and nearly fell in the snow, but Xu Guiyi caught her in her arms.

“Mother, Fifth Brother will be all right.” The Prince of Chu had come over at some point, kneeling before the empress.

Seeing him, Xu Guiyi regained some clarity and quickly reached out to check him over. “Xiao Ba, are you hurt? Are you in pain anywhere?”

The Prince of Chu shuffled closer on his knees, making her task easier. “Sister-in-law, I’m fine. Fifth Brother saved me.”

The day’s thaw had made the cold even more bitter, and after so long in captivity, the Prince of Chu’s face was numb with cold when Xu Guiyi touched it. Hurriedly, she drew him into her arms, shielding his face from the wind.

“Someone, take the Prince of Chu to Consort De at once.” She handed him over to an older matron, then joined the palace attendants in supporting the empress back to the tent.

“Your Highness, you should come inside too—it’s too cold out here,” one of the attendants urged.

But Xu Guiyi insisted on waiting outside for news. The emperor had not returned, nor had there been any word of Fu Lancheng.

“You’ll catch your death out here, Your Highness.” A maid pressed a hot water bottle into her hands.

No sooner had Xu Guiyi gripped it than there came the sound of people returning. She rushed forward, but her feet were numb with cold, and she stumbled and fell before she had taken more than a few steps.

The maids hurried to help her up, but before they could speak, someone cried urgently, “Summon the imperial physicians, quickly, summon the physicians...”

Within moments, a dozen physicians had gathered in the crown prince’s tent.

Fu Lancheng was carried back by the imperial guards. Xu Guiyi saw no sign of him, only a trail of bright red blood in the snow—Fu Lancheng’s blood.

After this ordeal, the snows of Jiulong Mountain seemed colder than ever.

The Kings of Zhao and Qi personally escorted the emperor back to his tent. Outside, winter reigned; inside, the very air seemed to freeze.

“Summon two physicians at once.” The Prince of Qi looked at the emperor’s pallor with great concern.

“The crown prince is still in peril. No physician may leave his side,” the emperor said coldly, casting a single glance at the Prince of Qi—a glance so slight, yet it sent the prince to his knees to beg forgiveness.

“Your son acted out of concern and failed to consider everything. I beg Father’s pardon!”

The King of Zhao also knelt. “Father, Third Brother was only worried for your health.”

But the emperor ignored them. “Leave.” His tone was dark and brooked no delay.

Pale-faced, the Prince of Qi rose with the King of Zhao’s help, and the two slowly made their way out.

“Duke Cheng, stay behind.” The emperor’s face was stony, his gaze like iron.

Duke Cheng, who had been about to leave with the others, felt a chill pierce to his very soul.

“Your Majesty was attacked today because I failed in my duty to protect you. I am willing to accept any punishment.” Cheng Jingyun knelt and bowed low.

The emperor sat unmoved, solid as a mountain. “It was I who was attacked, but it is the crown prince who lies wounded. Cheng—Jing—yun, what exactly were you doing?”

Each word was bitten off with cold fury.

Cheng Jingyun’s heart ached. “Your Majesty, the crown prince is hurt. I know I am guilty. But you must know—that was never my intention.”

The emperor’s anger exploded. He swept the ornaments from the table, shattering them. “The assassins had already released the crown prince. Why did you loose that arrow? Did you not realize you would provoke them to vengeance?”

At the time, the emperor had agreed to the assassins’ terms: so long as the crown prince was unharmed, they would be allowed to withdraw. The negotiations done, Fu Lancheng was just out of danger when suddenly Duke Cheng loosed a golden-feathered arrow at the assassin leader.

Such perfidy—corner a dog and it will leap the wall.

The last assassin, seeing escape was impossible, threw himself into the fray, determined to exact vengeance for that arrow.

He was shot dead on the spot by the imperial guards, but who would shield the emperor from the black-feathered arrow that followed? Naturally, it was the “unfilial son” Fu Lancheng, who was closest and best positioned.

“Cheng Jingyun, perhaps your years in the north—holding the power of life and death—have made you unfit for court life in Guangling?”

The emperor’s words were as sharp as blades, but nonetheless true.

Yes, on the northern front, between two armies, Cheng Jingyun would not have hesitated to shoot the hostage, then, before the body was cold, shoot the captor as well.

Ten years of wind and sand in the north had made Cheng Jingyun’s heart harder than steel.

“I deserve death. I beg Your Majesty not to pardon me.” The general, famed for a hundred battles, sought death with clear conscience.

The emperor gazed at his loyal servant, torn between love and hate. His voice was low. “Cheng, I have... indulged you too much.”

As Cheng Jingyun stiffly left the tent, the killing intent in the emperor’s eyes was barely contained, but soon it faded.

The north still needed him.

Since that man departed, only Cheng Jingyun remained in the north...

He must keep hold of imperial power—and ensure the frontier’s peace.