Toward evening, the sky was once again painted in the warm hues of sunset. The detachment halted near a small grove not far from the road. The location was calm, open, with no signs of recent movement—ideal for a night's rest.
Yunsheng inspected the surroundings carefully, as befitted a commander.
"We make camp here," he gave the order. "Water the horses, build the fire in a semicircle. No sentries—I will take the watch myself. The area is quiet."
The soldiers exchanged glances.
"Commander," one of them began cautiously, "perhaps we should still…"
"I have spoken," Yunsheng interrupted calmly but firmly. "Rest. Tomorrow is another long journey."
No one argued.
Houwei cast a short, attentive glance at him, as if he wanted to say something, but remained silent.
When the fire blazed up, the squad gradually gathered around, wrapping themselves in their cloaks. Conversations died down, leaving only the crackling of branches and the whistling of the night wind.
Yunsheng sat slightly apart, back to the fire, facing the road and the carriage. He did not look at the Young Lady directly, yet he felt her.
Every movement inside the carriage, every rustle of fabric resonated within him as if it were happening right next to his heart.
The thought was quiet, almost shameful. He understood he had no right to hope. Yet hope lived on regardless.
Yunsheng adjusted the sword at his belt and exhaled slowly.
If she came out—he would be there.
If not—he would still wait.
The night was just beginning.
As soon as all the soldiers had dispersed to their places and the fire became the sole source of light, Houwei approached Yunsheng and stopped beside him, not looking at him, and remained silent for some time.
"Fool," he finally uttered.
Yunsheng chuckled wearily.
"Because of the watch?"
Houwei slowly turned his head toward him.
"No."
Yunsheng frowned in surprise.
"Then because of what?"
Houwei looked at him long and strangely, as if trying to decide whether to speak or not. Pain, irritation, and something else—something too personal—flashed in his eyes.
"Because you do not understand where you are leading this," he said quietly.
"Houwei…"
But the other merely turned away and walked to the rest of the soldiers without looking back.
Yunsheng remained standing by the fire; he sighed, shaking his head slightly.
The night finally claimed its rights. The fire burned steadily and calmly, casting soft reflections on the sleeping faces of the soldiers. The horses shifted their hooves quietly, occasionally snorting.
Yunsheng sat by the fire alone. His cloak was draped over his shoulders, his sword lay nearby, his palm resting on the hilt more out of habit than necessity. His gaze was fixed on the tongues of flame, but his thoughts wandered far away. He felt the night enveloping everything around in a warm, thick silence. And yet, there was no peace. He thought of her again, of her gaze, of her voice, of how easily she had trusted him, not even knowing that he had already given her an entire lifetime.
Yunsheng exhaled slowly.
"If only you remembered…"
He raised his eyes to the sky. The stars were scattered just as generously as on that night when he first saw Athit.
"You are there," he addressed her mentally, "before me… and at the same time so far away."
The fire cracked quietly, throwing out a spark. Yunsheng started, as if from the sound rather than his thoughts. He did not know if she would come out again. But he knew that if he heard the creak of the carriage door, his heart would betray him faster than he himself could realize. He remained sitting, like a guardian not only of the camp but of his own hope. And the night listened to his silence. The creak of the carriage was barely discernible. Yunsheng raised his head immediately. A slender figure emerged from the shadows. Jihua stepped carefully onto the ground, holding the edge of her cloak, and froze, as if listening to check if she had woken anyone. Moonlight fell on her face, making it almost transparent. She noticed Yunsheng by the fire and hesitated for a moment, but still took a few steps forward.
"Commander…" she whispered. "I did not mean to disturb the peace."
"You have disturbed nothing," he replied just as quietly, rising. "I am on watch."
She nodded, but her gaze slipped to the sleeping soldiers, to the smoldering fire.
"Perhaps I should not have come out…"
"It is too audible here," Yunsheng said softly, noticing her doubt. "If You wished to talk… it is better to take a walk."
For a few seconds she was silent, as if weighing every consequence, then slowly nodded. They walked away from the camp, stepping carefully, barely brushing the grass. The light of the fire remained behind, giving way to the cold radiance of the moon. When the camp finally dissolved into the night, Jihua stopped.
"Here… it is quieter," she said.
"Yes."
Yunsheng stopped nearby, but not too close.
"Do You often have trouble sleeping?" he asked.
"No," she smiled slightly. "Just today… thoughts kept me awake again."
He understood what she had not said aloud. And in this admission, spoken almost in a whisper, their conversation began. For a time, they simply stood in silence; Jihua was the first to break it.
"Have you ever wondered," she said quietly, "that life is sometimes chosen for us?"
"Often."
"Why does it seem so strongly that we are simply executing someone else's will?"
He did not answer immediately.
"Because we are taught to obey before we are taught to understand ourselves."
"You speak as though You had no choice."
"Once, I did not belong to myself; my entire life was decided before my birth. I was born with immense responsibilities already placed upon me."
"It seemed to me that a man of your position had little choice."
"I did; I made mine. And You can too."
"Do You truly think so?"
"Otherwise, I would not say it."
She nodded slowly.
"I want to believe that."
"Then You have already taken the first step."
The girl smiled softly to herself.
"You look young, yet You speak as if you have lived a whole lifetime."
"Perhaps," a smile now touched the man's face.
Jihua narrowed her gaze at him. The man standing beside her seemed no ordinary commander; there was something mysterious and profound in him, something one wanted to know.
Silence hung between them again, but not an awkward one—rather, one given for reflection.
Jihua walked slowly along the edge of the resting spot, trying not to make noise or wake the sleeping soldiers. She caught every rustle around, but her gaze constantly returned to Yunsheng. Something about him… was unusual.
Not just the tall, sturdy figure of a commander, not just the confident movements, the restrained decisiveness that is usually so valued in men. No. There was something else in him—something subtle, elusive, like a light breeze slipping through fingers. Something that silently pulled her, attracted her without requiring words. It was wrong, yet so natural that Jihua herself was lost in it all.
He spoke neither of the past nor the future, but even in silence, Jihua felt the warmth emanating from him. She felt strength and care, even though danger and anxiety were all around. Her thoughts returned on their own to his eyes, to how he looked at the world and at her, as if trying to solve something that no one else could understand.
And one more strange feeling seized her: as if Yunsheng knew more than he showed, as if he had his own secret, and it somehow concerned her personally.
"It is time to return."
The girl nodded, and they both headed toward the carriage, trying not to make noise; the soldiers were asleep.
And so the night continued—quiet, shimmering from the fire, filled with thoughts of each other, but without words that could destroy the fragile harmony of this moment.
With the first rays of the sun, the camp began to come alive. Soldiers slowly rose, prepared breakfast, watered the horses. The carriage where the girls were stirred quietly—they breakfasted, spoke in whispers, maintaining distance and morning order.
Houwei looked even gloomier than the day before. His gaze slid over the road, over the carriages, over Yunsheng, but no smile or greeting appeared. It seemed his thoughts were somewhere far away, and he had absolutely no desire to share them with anyone.
Yunsheng, observing his comrade, tried to understand the reason for such a mood. He recalled yesterday's conversation with Jihua and wondered if it was somehow connected to the fact that Houwei had noticed their closeness. "It seems he senses something I myself cannot understand… I must be careful," thought Yunsheng.
After breakfast, the soldiers and guards took their places; the girls settled into their carriage, and Yunsheng and Houwei took up their positions. Yunsheng rode in front, Houwei brought up the rear. The carriages rolled slowly along the morning road, wheels creaking and kicking up red dust.
Houwei's gloomy mood was felt in his every movement, in his sharp glances and almost invisible sighs. Yunsheng caught himself once again casting fleeting glances at the Lady's carriage, trying not to attract attention or create unnecessary tension.
And while the road stretched out before them, each of the three was immersed in their own thoughts: Yunsheng—about the previous night; Jihua—about that strange sensation that before her was no ordinary man; Houwei—about what he felt but could not say aloud.
The journey promised to be long, and the tension was only growing.