Chapter 37: Heading North
The turmoil of his origins passed like a storm that seemed fierce but was, in reality, as gentle as a breeze. For Yan Jingshu, it was as if nothing had changed. After being carefully admonished by the Dowager Lady Yan and the Duke of Anguo, and sharing a farewell dinner, it became clear they could stay no longer. Thus, Yan Jingshu and Jiang Chenghan eventually took their leave.
The next day, in the early hours of the morning at the third quarter of the mao hour (around 5:45 AM), while the sky was still dark, the two rose. Their luggage had already been packed in advance. After dressing and grooming themselves and having a simple meal, Jiang Chenghan first went to the stables to fetch the horses, while Yan Jingshu gave a few final instructions to the people in the household before stepping out too.
Jiang Chenghan naturally rode his own horse, named Xiaofeng—a sturdy, powerful steed with thick, muscular legs, capable of traveling a hundred li in a single day. He had captured it himself from a wild herd back in Ningcheng and spent months taming it.
As for Yan Jingshu, he rode his own horse as well, a gift from the late Duke of Anguo when he was first learning to ride as a child. It was a descendant of the late Duke’s beloved warhorse, raised by specialized caretakers in an estate on the outskirts of the capital. A tall, robust stallion, its coat was pure white without a single blemish—a striking contrast to Jiang Chenghan’s jet-black Xiaofeng. It was named Xuexing ("Snow Star").
After their marriage, Yan Jingshu had brought Xuexing as part of his dowry, stabling it alongside Jiang Chenghan’s Xiaofeng. Jiang Chenghan, being knowledgeable about horses, quickly familiarized himself with Xuexing. Within days, the horse obediently allowed itself to be led from the stable and fitted with a saddle and reins.
By the time Jiang Chenghan had both horses ready and brought them to the front gate, Yan Jingshu had just stepped out.
Unlike his usual scholarly attire with wide sleeves and long robes, Yan Jingshu wore a fitted riding suit with narrow sleeves for ease of movement. His feet were clad in deerskin boots that hugged his straight, slender calves, while a palm-wide belt cinched his soft, flexible waist. His raven-black hair was tied high, and a snow-purple cloak draped over his shoulders.
Compared to his usual gentle and refined appearance, he now looked dashing and heroic.
Jiang Chenghan held Xuexing steady, handing the reins to Yan Jingshu only after watching him mount the horse with practiced ease. Then, he mounted his own Xiaofeng, and the two set off first for the General’s residence.
The General’s residence was already brightly lit, with several of Jiang Chenghan’s colleagues gathered at the gate, fully prepared and waiting. Seeing Jiang Chenghan and Yan Jingshu arrive, they greeted them warmly.
This was, in fact, the first time Yan Jingshu had formally met these men in this lifetime. Jiang Chenghan proceeded to introduce them:
The tallest and most burly, dark as an iron tower, was Zhang Zhao, renowned for his immense strength—rumored to be capable of tearing a tiger apart barehanded. The shorter but lean and agile one was Xiao Qingfeng, the best archer among them, able to hit a target at a hundred paces. The eldest, who looked more scholarly than military, was Feng Liangzheng. Though he had once taken the imperial exams and held the rank of a Tongsheng, his martial skills were still formidable.
Having known them in his past life and aware of their close relationship with Jiang Chenghan, Yan Jingshu was naturally amiable. Since Jiang Chenghan was the youngest among them, Yan Jingshu followed suit and addressed them as "elder brothers."
As they chatted, it wasn’t long before Kou Shijun emerged from the General’s residence in full military attire, followed by his wife, Jiang Shi, who tearfully saw him off at the gate. Unlike insignificant figures like Jiang Chenghan, Kou Shijun, despite being stationed at the border for long periods, could not bring his family without special permission.
Before this return to the capital, Kou Shijun had been away from home for three years. Now, with their parting imminent, no one knew how many more years would pass before they reunited.
Though reluctant to leave his wife, military urgency left no room for personal attachments. Not wanting to keep his subordinates waiting, Kou Shijun offered a few words of comfort before mounting his horse and heading toward the northern gate. Jiang Chenghan, Yan Jingshu, and the rest of the retinue followed closely behind.
At the northern gate, since it was not yet time for the city gates to open, a crowd of people waiting to exit had already gathered. However, Kou Shijun’s party neither could nor needed to wait. After identifying himself and presenting his token to the gatekeeper, the officer quickly opened the gates and let them pass.
Outside the gates, many others waited to enter or leave. Recognizing that Kou Shijun’s group was no ordinary party, they voluntarily made way. Once beyond the city walls, they followed the main road northward without pause, urging their horses onward.
After riding for most of the day, with the sun high overhead, Kou Shijun finally slowed his horse and called out, "Rest for a while. Eat something before we continue."
Everyone dismounted and took out their provisions and water pouches to replenish their energy. Though the weather was cool, since they had only been traveling for half a day, the food was still fresh and palatable. The water, however, was somewhat cold. Though Yan Jingshu insisted he was fine, Jiang Chenghan still warmed the water pouch against his chest before handing it to him.
After the brief respite, they mounted again and rode for another long stretch until night fully descended. Fortunately, they passed by a small town, where they found an inn and booked three rooms for the night. Given the inconveniences of travel, bathing was out of the question, but they requested basins of hot water to freshen up.
Though Yan Jingshu had ridden horses before, this was his first time doing so for an entire day. Fatigue inevitably set in, and while soaking his feet, he dozed off against the headboard.
Jiang Chenghan, after buying fresh provisions and refilling their water pouches, returned to find him like this. Rather than wake him up, he gently dried Yan Jingshu’s feet, removed his outer garment, and tucked him into bed.
After returning from pouring out the foot-washing water, Jiang Chenghan also got onto the kang, though he did not sleep immediately. Instead, he rummaged through his luggage and pulled out a bottle of medicinal oil, pouring some onto his hand. Then, his palm pressed against Yan Jingshu’s waist, gently massaging it.
He still remembered his first forced march, when he had ridden a horse for two straight days. During the day, he hadn’t felt much, but by night, his waist and legs ached so badly he could hardly sleep.
Though their current journey was not as grueling as that forced march, Yan Jingshu’s constitution was far weaker than his. If left unattended, his back would surely become too sore to continue within three days.
Yan Jingshu must have been truly exhausted, as he slept deeply, completely unaware of Jiang Chenghan’s actions. Yet, his furrowed brows gradually relaxed, and a content expression appeared on his face.
Jiang Chenghan massaged him for a while, stopping only when he felt the medicinal oil had fully absorbed into Yan Jingshu’s skin. He wiped off the remaining oil with a cloth, then extinguished the lamp, wrapped his arms around Yan Jingshu, and closed his eyes.
After barely two hours of sleep, before dawn the next morning, the group checked out of the inn and continued northward.
The farther they traveled from the capital and the closer they got to Ningcheng, the colder and bleaker the surroundings became, with sparse signs of human habitation. Yet, galloping under the vast, clear sky gave them a sense of boundless openness, making their hearts feel lighter.
In his past life, Yan Jingshu had traveled this official road many times—whether forced into a distant marriage or burdened with worry for his grandmother. Never had he felt as carefree as now, finding even withered branches and fallen leaves curiously amusing.
The harsh, sparsely populated north did not always provide inns or homes for lodging. Today, for instance, they had no choice but to camp in the wild. Fortunately, they had brought thick animal hides and cut sturdy branches to set up makeshift tents.
Though the tents were small—too low to sit upright in—they were spacious enough for two grown men to lie down and thick enough to block the wind, which sufficed.
Finding a flat clearing by the roadside, the group got to work. Jiang Chenghan and Yan Jingshu led the horses to a stream to drink, Kou Shijun guarded their luggage, while Zhang Zhao and the other two gathered firewood and pitched the tents.
By the time Jiang Chenghan and Yan Jingshu returned with the horses, three tents and a bonfire had already been prepared.
Seeing them, Zhang Zhao called out, "Brother Jiang, come quick! I’ve already cleaned the rabbits, just waiting for you to roast them!"
While gathering firewood, Zhang Zhao’s group had stumbled upon a rabbit warren and caught a few. But since none of them could match Jiang Chenghan’s roasting skills—and their tastes had been spoiled by him—they unanimously handed the task to him.
Jiang Chenghan glanced over and saw several skinned rabbits skewered on sticks by the fire. Smiling, he said, "Coming. I also caught two fish—we’ll roast those too."
Handing the reins to Xiao Qingfeng, he carried the cleaned fish to the fire. Without needing instruction, Yan Jingshu fetched the pre-prepared seasonings from their bags.
Jiang Chenghan deftly skewered the fish and propped them beside the fire, then tended to both the rabbits and fish, occasionally sprinkling his homemade spices.
Unlike at an inn, someone had to keep watch at night to guard the fire. Since Jiang Chenghan was in charge of roasting, the others agreed he would take the first shift.
Eager for roasted rabbit and fish, Zhang Zhao claimed the second watch. Xiao Qingfeng, citing respect for elders, took the third, leaving Feng Liangzheng, the oldest, with the last shift and the duty of waking everyone at dawn.
After a simple meal of dry rations, the others retreated to their tents, leaving only Jiang Chenghan and Yan Jingshu by the fire, diligently roasting their supper. Though the night was cold, huddled together under thick blankets, they felt little chill.
But Yan Jingshu’s stamina was no match for Jiang Chenghan’s, and soon he dozed off against his shoulder.
Jiang Chenghan held him steady to keep him from slipping and whispered, "If you’re tired, go sleep in the tent…"
Yan Jingshu wrinkled his nose and murmured, "No, I’m waiting for the roasted rabbit."
Jiang Chenghan smiled helplessly, knowing Yan Jingshu had tasted every delicacy—how could he crave something as ordinary as roasted rabbit? He simply wanted to stay with him.
Not wanting to force him, Jiang Chenghan only held him tighter and adjusted the blanket to block the wind before focusing back on roasting.
As fat sizzled and rich aromas filled the air, the rabbits were ready in about half an hour. Jiang Chenghan picked the tenderest one, sliced meat from its legs, and fed it to Yan Jingshu, now roused by the smell.
Obediently opening his mouth, Yan Jingshu chewed and—finding it just as delicious as he remembered—closed his eyes in satisfaction. Delighted, Jiang Chenghan kept feeding him, occasionally taking a bite himself. Soon, the entire rabbit was gone.
Just as they finished, Zhang Zhao emerged from his tent, looking far too awake to have just risen—likely having waited out of courtesy.
"The rabbits and fish are ready, but the fish has cooled. Heat it by the fire for better flavor," Jiang Chenghan reminded as he stood.
"Got it, go rest," Zhang Zhao waved dismissively, eyes fixed on the rabbits as he eagerly grabbed one.
Used to his impatience, Jiang Chenghan simply led Yan Jingshu to their tent.
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