Meng Jiuning forced herself to stand up, her legs numb, and brushed the dirt off her skirt, trying to adopt the demeanor of a royal envoy from Dali.
She raised her chin and cleared her dry throat.
"Your Highness seems to be in high spirits late at night. It's windy outside; Jiuning was merely taking Shuyue for a walk in the garden to digest her food and had no intention of disturbing you."
"You think you can stroll all the way to the foot of my back window?"
Gu Moran didn't get angry, and didn't even lift his eyelids.
"The family education of the Meng family in Dali is indeed unique."
He reached over and grabbed a thick ledger from the tea table by the window.
He tossed it with a flick of his wrist.
A dull thud.
The thick ledger with its raw cowhide cover slammed onto the blue brick windowsill, raising a small cloud of dust.
"This is an old score between the Jiannan Circuit Tea and Horse Bureau and the Dali Southern Transport Bureau."
Gu Moran tapped his index finger on the leather cover, producing a dull tapping sound.
"There's a discrepancy of thirteen thousand strings of copper coins in the accounts. Before dawn, make sure to compile a detailed record of every deficit and the secret marks of the officials involved."
Meng Jiuning stared at the ledger, which was at least two inches thick, her head buzzing.
"Your Highness, I am Dali, not an accountant! The permit for the raw medicinal herbs you promised..."
"The permit for the medicinal herbs is locked in the king's seal box."
Gu Moran interrupted her.
His tone was so steady that there was no discernible fluctuation.
"If I do not see the accounts sorted out by daybreak, the three hundred carts of medicines for dispelling cold and preventing miasma that were being transported to the Dali border in the south should be turned around and rerouted to Yong Prefecture."
The price offered by the rebel lord is 30% higher than yours.
Meng Jiuning clenched her teeth, her molars aching from the grinding.
She wanted to argue.
But the words stuck in his throat.
She stared intently at Gu Moran's indifferent face, her eyes not even blinking.
I finally understand.
Whatever daytime absurdities or bedroom debauchery, in this man's eyes, they were all just pretexts that could be laid bare at will.
He didn't even care who overheard.
From the very beginning, she, this so-called pawn of the Dali princess, was nothing more than a free laborer doing the accounting in his calculations.
He was certain that Dali.
They were even more certain that Meng Jiuning wouldn't dare gamble with the ancestral temples and the state.
" Jiuning... I obey."
Meng Jiuning squeezed out these four words through gritted teeth.
He took two steps forward and picked up the cold, heavy leather ledger with both hands.
My fingers turned white from clenching them so tightly.
Gu Moran shifted her gaze to Yun Shuyue, who was still hiding behind the celadon jar, her eyes darting around.
When Yun Shuyue saw him looking over, she was so frightened that she covered her eyes with her two chubby little hands.
They foolishly shrank their heads behind the porcelain jar.
As for you.
Gu Moran calmly.
"I... I didn't hear anything!"
Yun Shuyue peeked her eyes out from between her fingers, gazing at him expectantly.
He begged for mercy, his voice trembling with tears.
"Your Highness, I came here to find hawthorn cake. Sister Meng said there was something delicious in the backyard..."
"In the west corner of the kitchen's storeroom, there's a large basket of raw chestnuts that were just brought back from West Mountain."
Gu Moran withdrew his hand from the windowsill and pulled his outer robe tighter.
If you don't finish peeling them before dawn, you can skip the red bean cake for breakfast tomorrow. And while you're at it, have Shopkeeper Su take away your snacks for three months.
"Huh? A whole basket of them?"
Yun Shuyue a miserable scream.
She slumped to the ground, her little face scrunched up.
"Go on, get to work in the kitchen."
Gu Moran didn't look at them again.
He raised his hand and pulled the half of the carved wooden window closed.
With a creak, it made a sound.
The windows were tightly closed, shutting out all the warmth and medicinal aroma from inside the room.
A night breeze swept through the corridor, stirring up a few withered yellow leaves from the ground.
Meng Jiuning stood there, clutching the heavy ledgers.
A cold wind rushed into her collar, making her shiver.
" Sister Meng..."
Yun Shuyue got up and tugged at Meng Jiuning's sleeve.
His face was filled with despair.
"A whole basket of chestnuts, my hands will rot... How did I go from a female bandit chief to a lowly maid?"
Meng Jiuning took a breath of the cold air.
He looked down at the leather ledger in his arms.
He said coldly and self-deprecatingly, "Even if my hands rot, I'll still peel it. In this royal palace, we're not even as good as a guard dog."
The two walked away dejectedly, one after the other, along the cold, bare stone path.
Meanwhile, amidst the chaos of battle, the six sisters, who had shared hardships and joys, continued their laughter and chatter...
The towering mountains stretch for hundreds of miles to the north, and the weather grows increasingly cold.
Upon arriving in Tubo, a fierce wind was howling and a blizzard was raging.
The Tubo supply depot was set up on a rocky, sheltered beach.
The black yak-hide tent shook violently in the wind and snow.
Thick wool felt curtains hung at the entrance, flapping loudly in the cold wind.
The continuous travel over the past few days has caused Chen Qing to lose a lot of weight.
His silk robe was long since tattered into strips, and he wore a tattered leather coat that had been torn off some dead soldier.
A stench of rancidity mixed with the stench of mutton fat made people wrinkle their noses.
His beard was covered in dirty ice crystals, and his hands were tucked into his sleeves.
He was like a rat stealing oil, taking advantage of the change of guard by the patrolling cavalry, he scurried along the edge of the camp, past the woodpile, and made his way to an inconspicuous low leather tent behind the kitchen.
Chen Qing's teeth chattered from the cold in the wind and snow.
He glanced around to make sure no Tubo scouts were watching, then flung open the heavy leather curtain and slipped inside.
The tent wasn't spacious.
The central cast iron brazier burned cheap, damp charcoal, emitting a choking, bluish-gray smoke.
Yang Tie, who had finished refining the elixir and was resting, was squatting in front of an old elm tree stump, holding a gleaming boning knife in his hand.
On the cutting board lay half a frozen lamb leg, the meat dark and streaked with blood.
Yang Tie's wrist was steady as the short knife sliced down the tendons and joints of the lamb leg, producing a dull snapping sound.
The curtain was lifted, and a cold wind rushed in.
The embers in the brazier flickered for a moment.
Yang Tie stopped cutting the meat.
Tighten your grip on the knife, with the tip pointing downwards at a 30-degree angle.
That's a stance that allows for a sudden, explosive thrust.
He looked down at the ground and immediately spotted Chen Qing's tattered black boots.
Yang Tie's eyelids drooped.
Chen Qing.
This incompetent fool, who's more likely to cause trouble than accomplish anything, actually managed to sneak all the way into the Tubo camp?
Yang Tie's first reaction was not to reminisce, but to kill him to silence him.
He is now barely holding his ground in the Tubo supply camp by feigning surrender and possessing exceptional skills, while secretly plotting his future.
Chen Qing, with his peculiar thought process, would inevitably betray himself if captured in the Tubo camp.
Before he could even utter a sound, they slit his throat.
The safest way to save lives was to stuff the bodies into sleds used for transporting frozen meat and bury them.
Yang Tie exerted force with his heels, tensing his calf muscles.
The short sword gleamed with a bluish-gray light in the blue smoke.
Before Yang Tie could even make a move, Chen Qing collapsed to his knees beside the elm stump, as if his body had fallen apart.
"Brother Yang! I've finally found you! I've been looking for you for so long!"
Chen Qing pressed his hands against the cutting board, his lips turning blue and his body trembling violently.
Without even glancing at the knife in Yang Tie's hand, he reached out and tore off shreds of meat from the lamb leg and stuffed them into his mouth.
Yang Tie's movements faltered.
The boning knife in his hand hovered in mid-air.
"Oh? Brother Chen? You didn't die in Anyang prison? What do you want with me?"
"Die? I'm tough as nails!"
Chen Qing chewed on the raw, bloody meat, letting out a muffled, cold laugh.
He swallowed the raw meat and wiped the black blood from the corner of his mouth.
"I fled all the way from Anyang to here, dodging three groups of pursuers. My legs almost froze off in the snow! I even broke two teeth from gnawing on tree bark!"
Chen Qing, panting heavily, tore at the meat as he spoke.
"If it weren't for the fact that I ran into a cook who was from Great Yan and recognized this bronze seal in my hand, telling me you were here, I would have frozen to death on the way!"
He pulled something out from the deepest part of his tattered leather coat.
"Wow! Your medicine is amazing!"
A bronze seal, warmed by body heat and with a coiled dragon pattern engraved on its bottom, was slammed heavily onto a greasy, dirty cutting board.
That's the bronze seal of the Prince An's Residence's personal guards.
Yang Tie stared at the seal for two seconds.
The fingers gripping the knife tightened a little more.
What do you mean by this?
Yang Tie's voice turned cold, but his grip on the knife remained firm.
Chen Qing lowered her voice and leaned forward.
The smoke made his cloudy eyes gleam with greed.
" Yang Tie, do you really think I'm here to run for my life?"