Chapter 151

Concerned about fire arrows igniting houses beyond the city walls and leaving no time for rescue, Jiang Xiurun’s residence was situated beside a small fish pond.

Around it stood two large copper basins, constantly heated with firewood beneath them to prevent the water from freezing.

The rising steam made the air thick with warmth.

Upon entering the house, Feng Liwu saw that it was small and simply furnished—almost spartan.

A bed, a table, and a mirror; nothing more.

Winter had set in, and the cold was biting, yet there was no source of warmth in the room.

As he stepped inside, a chill ran through him.

Feng Liwu wanted to remove his golden armor and properly embrace the little queen, who was rarely so close to him, but the cold was unbearable.

Turning around, he called for the attendant on duty to bring in a charcoal brazier.

However, the maid timidly replied that, as per the queen’s orders, all the city’s charcoal had been sent to the city walls to keep the soldiers warm as they stood guard day and night.

Feng Liwu touched Jiang Xiurun’s ice-cold hands, suppressing his irritation as he asked, “You can actually sleep in this room without a fire at night?”

Jiang Xiurun, having seen Feng Liwu arrive in person with a massive army, knew that Xie City was finally secure.

The burden she had carried for over a month was at last lifted.

How long had it been since she had slept soundly? Exhaustion often overtook her, and in such moments, she would have her attendants fill two warming bottles and tuck them into the bed.

She wouldn’t even remove her clothes, just wrapping herself in two thick quilts and dozing off.

Now that the tension was gone, weariness crashed over her.

She longed to sleep deeply, and even keeping her eyes open was a struggle.

“With the warming bottles, it’s warm enough,” she murmured.

Feng Liwu’s heart clenched at the thought of this delicate, soft woman enduring such hardship in this bitterly cold, cramped space.

Anger flickered in his eyes as he scolded, “Warm enough? You’re frozen solid! How long has it been since you gave birth? Are all of Bo’s ministers dead? How could they let their empress risk her life in the midst of war?”

Jiang Xiurun forced a bitter smile.

“Bo is but a small state. How far is Yang City from Xie City? As empress, if I oversee the battle from the front lines, I can still be of use. If I hide in the rear, all I gain is a full stomach and warm clothes, which won’t help anyone. I might as well stay here and command the defense…”

Ever since he heard that Bo was in danger, Feng Liwu’s heart had been gripped with fear.

To him, Bo was nothing more than a fragile egg, easily crushed.

Even a barbarian force like Rong, if determined enough, could wipe Bo off the map without a trace.

So when he received news of the invasion, he knew—wings or not—he had to fly back immediately to rescue her.

The fear and fury nearly consumed him, but in his desperation, he found himself hoping that the Rong King’s infamous lust might buy her time—that the barbarian would covet her beauty and delay killing her.

If he could stall long enough, he could reach her.

Yet the very thought of what she might endure at the hands of those savages made him so enraged he wanted to tear the world apart.

She was so proud—how could she bear such humiliation?

He tormented himself with these thoughts all the way to Bo’s borders.

There, in the distance, he spotted a dozen Rong cavalrymen searching for firewood hundreds of miles away.

His men captured them, and under interrogation, Feng Liwu asked one thing directly:

“What has the Rong King done to Bo’s empress?”

The prisoners, already weakened by hunger and cold, had lost their fighting spirit.

After being whipped by Dou Siwu several times, one immediately confessed:

“Our king curses that Bo empress every time he’s awake! Calls her a little whore, doesn’t stop for a moment!”

Hearing this, Feng Liwu’s heart clenched in pain.

Jiang Xiurun had always been headstrong and difficult, but he had cherished her deeply.

Even when he believed she had wronged him, he couldn’t bear to say a harsh word to her.

Yet now, that delicate woman had fallen into the hands of a monster and was being subjected to ceaseless verbal abuse.

Was the Rong King not even human? Did he feel no pity at all?

Furious beyond words, Feng Liwu led an elite force of light cavalry, racing towards Xie City.

But when he reached the city, he saw the Bo’s flag still flying proudly atop the walls.

The iron-reinforced fortifications remained intact.

Below the walls, the air echoed with taunts and insults.

As he concealed his cavalry in the high terrain to observe the battlefield, he realized—the Rong King was not personally hurling insults; he was lounging on a thickly padded stretcher, shouting curses that his relay officers would repeat.

These officers then relayed the words to hundreds of designated insult-soldiers, who roared them in unison.

It seemed that after days of continuous cursing, they had run out of creative insults.

Their latest refrain involved calling out to nonexistent fathers and husbands, along with endless variations of “shameless wench.”

Yet, within Xie City, all remained quiet.

The gates stayed firmly shut.

Dou Siwu, listening for a while, glanced at the one-eyed Rong King, who was red-faced and shouting himself hoarse, and scoffed, “What kind of battle strategy is this? This is how the northern fights wars? Like a bunch of gossiping washerwomen? If this is all it takes, His Majesty didn’t even need to come. Bai Qian alone could have wiped them out from the walls.”

Sure enough, not long after, General Bai himself took to the battlements, leading an elite squad of insult-soldiers.

Each one carried a sound-amplifying horn, and together they retaliated in kind.

Their insults were far more creative.

With vivid detail, they painted a picture of how the Rong King, now blind in one eye, mistook a chamber pot for a water jug in the middle of the night—drinking urine and eating filth, all while believing it was fine wine.

Every word struck a nerve.

As they lay in ambush, waiting for the main army to arrive, Feng Liwu and his men listened to a full day of these exchanges.

Finally, he understood the reason Jiang Xiurun had endured constant verbal abuse—it was simply a battle of wits.

Despite being besieged for a full month, Xie City had never fallen behind.

They had used an unexpected cold snap to drag the Rong army into a war of attrition.

Jiang Xiurun had even demonstrated her remarkable archery skills, single-handedly shooting out one of the Rong King’s eyes.

No wonder the man was seething with rage, cursing at every meal!

Feng Liwu had always known Jiang Xiurun was intelligent, but he never expected her to hold out for an entire month without reinforcements—until he arrived with his forces.

Later, when the Liang army entered the fray, Feng Liwu’s war chariots had also arrived.

Seeing that Liang’s interference would overwhelm Jiang Xiurun, he commanded his troops to wait until Rong and Liang soldiers stepped onto the frozen river—then bombarded the ice with stones, breaking it beneath them.

Had Liang not interfered, Bo would have repelled the Rong forces brilliantly, leaving Feng Liwu speechless.

But fate had given him an excuse.

With Liang’s meddling, he had every right to scold Jiang Xiurun.

“If you knew Rong had ill intentions, why didn’t you tell me? Did you think you could raise ten or eight female generals by yourself?”

Jiang Xiurun was too exhausted to argue.

As Feng Liwu removed his armor and pulled her into bed, she lay against his solid arm, drifting into sleep amid his reprimands.

Feng Liwu gazed at her weary face, the dark circles under her eyes, and his heart softened.

Holding this woman—unkempt, unwashed, exhausted—he suddenly felt that even if she grew old and wrinkled, he would never tire of her.

And so, two war-worn sovereigns, reunited at last, fell into a deep sleep in each other’s embrace.

Outside Xie City, the battle’s outcome became clear within a single day.

The Liang had only come with the intent of taking advantage of the situation.

But instead of gaining any benefits, they found themselves in a mess.

Without hesitation, they sounded the withdrawal signal, rolled up their battle flags, and retreated at full speed.

As for the King of the Rong, he was captured alive and continued cursing loudly.

Unwilling to listen to his foul words, Feng Liwu simply ordered his tongue to be cut off cleanly and swiftly.

Then, his head was severed and hung high above Xie City’s gates as a warning to all the barbarian tribes of the Rong—whoever dared to invade Bo again would share his fate.

The remaining fleeing soldiers were pursued relentlessly by Dou Siwu and Bai Qian, leading their forces deep into enemy territory.

Meanwhile, Jiang Xiurun ordered General Jin Kui to use old Bo maps to reclaim the territories lost over the past decades while chasing down the retreating Rong forces.

With winter upon them, large-scale construction was impossible.

But when spring arrived, Jiang Xiurun planned to have fortified walls built around the recovered lands, ensuring strong defenses to deter further invasions from the other Rong tribes.

She didn’t need to personally oversee every detail; after giving the orders, ambitious officials eager to prove themselves naturally took up the tasks.

With her hands finally free from urgent state affairs, she could now properly fulfill her duties as a host and entertain the Emperor of Great Qi.

They weren’t in the mood to tour mountains and rivers, but after cleaning up, they did spend three whole days and nights making plenty of noise in the bedchamber.

If possible, Feng Liwu would have loved to stay longer, reuniting with his woman and son, sleeping together until they had seven or eight children.

But with Bo’s situation stabilized, he had no choice but to swiftly mobilize his troops and return.

Jiang Xiurun asked whether the situation in the Three Counties was dire, but Feng Liwu seemed reluctant to discuss it in detail.

This only made her more suspicious—if he had come all the way here to aid Bo while unrest brewed in the Three Counties, there had to be major consequences.

Yet, when she pressed him for answers, Feng Liwu remained indifferent, saying it wasn’t her concern.

Before leaving, he summoned the audacious King of Anxi and held him accountable for standing by idly during Bo’s crisis.

The newly installed King of Anxi wept and wailed, claiming innocence.

He insisted that he had received a personal imperial edict from Feng Liwu, forbidding him from intervening in Bo’s internal strife, which was why he hadn’t provided aid in time.

Jiang Xiurun listened from the side, then reached out to take the so-called secret edict.

At first glance, it seemed flawless.

But as someone well-versed in forgery and deeply familiar with Feng Liwu’s handwriting, she quickly spotted the flaw.

The final stroke of the chaotic character in the letter differed from Feng Liwu’s usual restrained finish.

A careful examination immediately revealed the forgery.

It just went to show—talented tricksters emerged in every era, and carving a counterfeit seal wasn’t exactly a unique skill.

Bo had nearly suffered a devastating loss because of a fraudster who had appeared out of nowhere.