Chapter 125: Trapped, Prince Xuan's Plan

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Of course, Qianmo Shen would never tell Liancheng He that those strange symbols he saw casually scribbled on paper were actually English.
She couldn’t break her habit of doodling while thinking, but here in the He residence, she had to be cautious and careful at every step, so she deliberately chose to record her notes in English.
She trusted that no one here would understand it.
Liancheng He’s courtyard was located on the east side of the He estate. After his father, Yuanshan He, passed away, he went alone to the Tianshan Mountains to study martial arts. He only returned last year, and was then appointed as the National Guard General, beginning his campaigns on the battlefield. Therefore, he spent little time at home and had taken no wives or concubines, making the spacious courtyard seem empty and cold.
The courtyard was planted with a cluster of pine trees, tall and straight, evergreen through all seasons. They added a vibrant splash of green to the otherwise bleak and desolate courtyard in the dead of winter. When the wind swept through, it stirred the pine waves into a roaring chorus. The courtyard was aptly named “Listening to Pines Garden” for this reason.
Liancheng He stood tall and straight like a pine at the window of his study, habitually gazing at the beautiful silhouette sitting by the window of the east wing opposite him. Morning light filtered through the window panes, casting a slanting golden glow upon his handsome and heroic face, making him seem as if coated with a faint layer of gold. His deep, cold eyes softened unusually.
Over these days, standing by the study window each morning had become an unbreakable habit for him. During his six years studying in Tianshan, he believed his heart had grown as cold and hard as the mountain ice. Yet every time that graceful figure appeared before his eyes, he felt a warm, fulfilling light filling an empty, cold corner deep within his heart.
That woman was at it again, tinkering with those bottles and jars—he hadn’t realized she was so passionate about medicine.
Perhaps attracted by the scent of the herbs she was handling, several returning birds fluttered down from the tops of the pines outside the window, perching on her windowsill and chirping inquisitively.
She turned and casually grabbed a few freshly made pills, scattering them on the sill. Watching the birds peck them clean, she smiled faintly as they called to her a few times before taking wing toward the horizon.
She lifted her gaze in the direction the birds flew off, her brows lightly curved, a gentle smile blossoming on her face.
The smile was soft and subtle, yet it inexplicably tugged at the cold strings of Liancheng He’s heart, making him feel the warmth within spreading wildly.
He knew full well how dangerous such feelings were. They stood on opposite sides, destined to be enemies. But so what? He didn’t want to give up at all; instead, he wanted to sink deeper and deeper into this. He wanted to imprison her forever by his side so that he could see her gentle and calm face every day.
Perhaps it was the predatory nature inherent in the men of the Northern Di tribe. Once they set their eyes on something, they would stop at nothing to possess it and never let go easily.
Something he set his eyes on? So he was actually taken with this woman now?
The thought startled him, his deep brown pupils shrinking instantly. Clenching his fists, he stared conflictedly for a long moment before decisively brushing his sleeves and turning to leave.
At this moment, he felt he needed to calm down.

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Qianmo Shen still kept her head turned, gazing calmly into the distance outside the window. Her expression was淡然 and composed. She knew that Liancheng He was watching her closely. It was no surprise—when a hostage suddenly demands to change their living arrangement and even threatens their life, suspicion is only natural.
But beyond this, she truly couldn’t think of any other way to protect the child in her womb.
Her hands instinctively rested on her belly. Though the little life was not yet fully formed, she knew it was growing stronger day by day.
She understood fully that staying in the He estate was not a long-term solution. Counting the days, she had been pregnant for nearly two months now. No matter how careful she was, sooner or later she would be exposed.
Ah Heng, I hope you understand my intentions and find my whereabouts soon.
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Northwest, Jing Prefecture, Prefect’s Study.
Since that day when Yuanheng Meng issued the order, one hundred thousand elite soldiers of the Meng family army and thirty thousand Feiyun cavalry struck toward Zhengyang Pass with lightning speed. Naturally, the Da Sheng garrison could not just surrender the city and fought back fiercely. The once peaceful Zhengyang Pass, quiet for seven years, was again shrouded in the smoke and fire of war. But this time, the Meng family army was no longer fighting the Northern Di forces—they were battling the Da Sheng troops.
The news shocked the entire imperial capital. Emperor Tianxu issued several edicts denouncing Yuanheng Meng for his selfish desires, disregarding the country and its people, committing treason and rebellion, bringing disaster and suffering.
For a time, the people turned against the Xuan Prince’s mansion and the Meng family army, condemning them in words and writings. Some poets and scholars even portrayed the late Princess Xuan, who had fallen off a cliff, as a femme fatale who brought ruin to the nation, inspiring countless poems and plays filled with love and hate.
Yet, the man at the center of this storm sat calmly in the Prefect’s study in Jing Prefecture, his eyes half-closed, lazily listening to Wenyuan Yuan’s report on the battle at Zhengyang Pass. His long fingers absentmindedly stroked the small white fox curled quietly by his side.
The pure white fox, with bright green eyes half-open, let out a few soft whimpers at the man before closing its eyes again to rest.
When Qianmo Shen was around, the little fox hadn’t been friendly toward Yuanheng Meng. Yuanheng often wished he could crush the fox that constantly took up Qianmo Shen’s lap and disturbed his closeness with her. But now, perhaps because they both missed the same person, their relationship had become unusually harmonious.
“Your Highness, there are currently 48,600 Da Sheng garrison troops in Zhengyang Pass. Of these, 13,900 have died in battle. The remaining 34,700 have all been driven out,” Wenyuan Yuan reported solemnly, his resolute face stern and serious.
The man, still dressed in black brocade robes, his white hair simply tied back and falling smoothly over his shoulders, had sharp, cold features rendered even more striking by the pale hair. His eyes, deep and still as a cold pool, showed no emotion as he listened to the casualty report—no sympathy or pity stirred in them.
Yun Yi, watching this Meng Yuanheng, sighed inwardly. He realized he had been sighing frequently since Qianmo Shen disappeared.
In less than ten days, the Meng family army had seized the important northwestern barrier of Zhengyang Pass, along with five prefectures and eighteen cities within the pass.
The combat capability of the Meng family army and the Feiyun cavalry was evident. Of course, this owed much to the man before him.

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It had been nearly two months since Qianmo Shen fell off the cliff. During this time, the Xuan Prince’s secret guards never gave up searching, but there was still no news. Hope was fading, though none wanted to admit it.
But the actions of the white-haired man before them only deepened their concern. Since the Meng family army attacked Zhengyang Pass, this man had fought at the forefront of nearly every battle, fierce and unstoppable, capable of standing against thousands alone on horseback. So much so that the Da Sheng troops trembled at the sight of his black-robed, white-haired figure and surrendered outright.
Yet, for the surrendered soldiers, his orders were always absolute: “Kill.”
Alas, the nickname “White-Haired Demon Lord” likely came from this reputation.
But in the chaos of war, no matter how skilled, no one can be invincible. Seeing the fresh and old wounds covering that man, Yun Yi’s brows furrowed tighter.
He was fighting recklessly, as if with nothing left to live for.
Could it be that he intended to die on the battlefield and follow Qianmo Shen in death?
But if he died like this, what would become of the Meng family army? The Feiyun cavalry? They had taken Jing Prefecture and Zhengyang Pass, holding the most strategic positions in the northwest, but had now severed all ties with Da Sheng and declared open rebellion.
Their name as traitors was cemented. What would become of these hundreds of thousands of soldiers?
Yun Yi worried that Yuanheng Meng hadn’t thought about the future of his army at all, and was simply venting his grief and rage over losing his beloved through slaughter.
The gentle and serene woman’s departure had likely become a wound in his heart that would never heal.
He sighed again involuntarily and exchanged a glance with Xie Mingyu, who had just arrived in Jing Prefecture a few days earlier. Then he asked, “Your Highness, with Zhengyang Pass taken, what is our next step?”
Meng Yuanheng, still half-closing his eyes and leaning against the chair back, let a few strands of silver hair fall along his gaunt cheek, making his increasingly sharp features appear faint and elusive. After a long silence, his low, magnetic voice finally sounded.
“Order the Meng family army to rest at Zhengyang Pass for the remainder of the year. No actions are to be taken. Next spring, we will attack the Northern Di.”