Inside Luo Qingrou's boudoir, the atmosphere was as oppressive as the deathly silence before a storm. On the exquisite mother-of-pearl inlaid dressing table, a pale and resolute face was reflected in the gleaming bronze mirror.

Jinse knelt on the ground, clinging tightly to Luo Qingrou's legs, tears streaming down her face like broken beads: "Miss! Miss, you can't go! The northern border is bitterly cold, and war is merciless. What kind of place is that! You are of noble birth, how can you... how can you disguise yourself as a man and sneak into the military camp? If you are discovered, it's a capital offense! If Master and Madam find out, this servant... this servant will be guilty beyond redemption!"

Luo Qingrou was dressed in a plain white undergarment, her long, black hair cascading over her shoulders, which made her face appear even paler than snow. She didn't look at Jinse, but stared intently at herself in the bronze mirror, her eyes empty and unfocused, as if gazing through the mirror at the distant, windswept border.

Lu Zheng… that scoundrel who always had that smirk, always made her angry, always stole her things… he’s gone. He really led his army to the northern border. He will face the ferocious Rong and Di tribes, the cold blades, and the ever-present threat of death.

A sharp panic and an uncontrollable impulse, like vines, tightly coiled around her heart, tightening more and more until she almost suffocated. She couldn't stay in the capital like this! She couldn't just stay in her secluded chambers listening to those terrifying news reports, some true, some false! She had to see him safe with her own eyes! Even if… even if it was just watching from afar!

"Let go, Jinse." Luo Qingrou's voice was dry and hoarse, carrying an undeniable coldness.

"Miss!" Jinse cried even harder and hugged him even tighter.

"I said, let go!" Luo Qingrou suddenly raised her voice, with an almost desperate resolve. She forcefully broke free from Jinse's grasp, staggered to the huge rosewood wardrobe, and flung open the door. Inside hung all sorts of fine silks and satins, magnificent and exquisite, befitting the daughter of the Prime Minister's mansion.

Luo Qingrou's gaze, however, was like fire, sweeping over these gorgeous clothes with disgust and determination. She suddenly reached out and grabbed a brand-new, primrose-colored long dress made of the finest brocade and embroidered with intricate butterfly and flower patterns!

"Sizzle—!"

A sharp, ripping sound suddenly rang out! Sharp scissors brutally sliced ​​through the smooth, expensive brocade! Like tearing apart a beautiful yet illusory dream. Jinse let out a short scream, covering her mouth, staring in disbelief at her young mistress's seemingly mad outburst.

Luo Qingrou's eyes were icy, but her movements were exceptionally swift. Without a second thought, she tore off the priceless garments one by one and threw them on the ground as if discarding useless trash. Finally, from the very bottom of the wardrobe, she pulled out a few old men's clothes that were the darkest in color and made of the most ordinary material—clothes she had secretly asked Jinse to buy from the guards in the manor a couple of years ago so she could sneak out to play.

She grabbed a dark gray, coarse cloth shorts and put them on without hesitation. The oversized garment hung loosely on her slender frame. She then picked up a pair of dark blue, tapered trousers and changed into them. Her movements were clumsy yet carried a fierce determination.

Then, she sat down at the dressing table and picked up the scissors. Looking at her cascading black hair in the mirror, her eyes showed no hesitation.

"Miss! No!" Jinse rushed forward to stop her.

"Get out of my way!" Luo Qingrou shouted sharply, shoving her aside. A flash of cold light from the scissors, and strands of long, smooth, black hair fell to the ground, scattering across the carpet. Her movements were swift and ruthless, utterly chaotic. Soon, her waist-length hair was cut unevenly, barely tied back with a simple, dark strip of cloth, forming a haphazard, man's bun. Many short, stray hairs remained scattered across her forehead and temples, making her look disheveled, yet strangely stripping away all the gentle beauty typically associated with a young lady.

She stared at the strange and unfamiliar "boy" in the mirror, her brow furrowed. Then, her gaze fell on her own slightly heaving chest. That was the biggest flaw!

Luo Qingrou's cheeks flushed crimson instantly, a flicker of shame and embarrassment crossing her eyes. But she gritted her teeth, abruptly pulled open a small drawer in her dressing table, and dragged out a long strip of white cotton cloth intended as a waistband. She tightly wrapped the cloth around her chest, round and round, constricting it with all her might! It was as if she wanted to completely erase the softness and curves of her womanhood, and as if she wanted to suffocate the restless fear and palpitations in her heart!

The intense feeling of being bound made it hard for her to breathe, her chest ached, and fine beads of cold sweat appeared on her forehead. But she just bit her lower lip, remained silent, and continued to wrap herself tightly until the undulating fabric was forcibly pressed into a nearly flat, stiff surface. The "boy" in the mirror was thin and pale, but his eyes held a kind of desperate madness and stubbornness.

Finally, with trembling hands, she carefully took something out of her purse.

It was a piece of lustrous white jade. The design of the jade pendant was simple and ancient, with only a powerful and vigorous "Zheng" character engraved in the center with extremely exquisite craftsmanship! It was the very same jade that Lu Zheng had "snatched" from her maid Jinse in the flower hall of the Duke of Zhenguo's mansion that day, and which he had secretly slipped back into her sleeve when she fled in a hurry!

Her fingertips traced the deeply engraved character "铮" on the jade pendant. Her fingertips were icy cold, but her heart felt as if it had been branded with a hot iron, a sharp pain and an indescribable throbbing coursing through it. That bastard… he knew all along! He knew everything! That's why he deliberately left this behind!

She gripped the jade pendant tightly, the warm jade digging painfully into her palm, yet it seemed to give her the last bit of support. She strung the pendant on a strong silk thread and carefully wore it close to her neck, against her wildly beating heart wrapped in layers of cotton cloth.

Having done all this, Luo Qingrou seemed to have exhausted all her strength. Leaning against the edge of the dressing table, she breathed heavily. Looking at the completely unfamiliar, disheveled yet stubborn "boy" in the mirror, her eyes held a complex and unreadable expression. There was fear, confusion, and even more so, a resolute determination to burn her bridges.

She slowly raised her hand, her fingertips trembling, and gently stroked the cold brows and eyes of the "boy" in the mirror, as if confirming a completely new self, fraught with unknown dangers. After a long while, a barely audible whisper, filled with endless complex emotions, echoed in the silent boudoir, light as a feather, yet carrying a tremendous weight:

"Lu the Scoundrel...you just wait..."