Zheng Wanqing stood in the middle of the hall, twisting her handkerchief unconsciously with her slender fingers. She looked out the door from time to time, her eyes full of worry.

"Madam, the young marshal is here!" The maid came trotting in to report.

"Why are you standing in the wind?" Xie Yun frowned and reached out to brush away the fallen snow on her shoulders.

Zheng Wanqing didn't answer, but quickly handed over a cup of hot tea. The tea soup was clear, and a few green tea leaves stretched out in the cup.

"Uncle Zhou said you went to suppress bandits..." Her voice was as light as a feather, but her eyes closely followed his every move.

Xie Yun took the teacup, and when their fingertips touched Zheng Wanqing's, Zheng Wanqing couldn't help but gasp; his fingers were frighteningly cold.

"It's OK." He took a sip of tea, his Adam's apple rolling up and down, "Just a few thieves."

Amid the aroma of tea, Zheng Wanqing noticed a fresh bloody wound on the base of his right hand.

"Your hand..." She turned hurriedly to get the medicine box.

"Just a scratch." Xie Yun grabbed her wrist, but he didn't expect that this action would move the hem of his military uniform.

Only then did Zheng Wanqing discover that there were dark red bloodstains on the hem of his military uniform.

"Your leg is injured too?!" Her voice suddenly rose.

Xie Yun held her shaking hands completely, the rough calluses on his palms rubbing against her delicate skin: "It's not my blood." He paused, then added in a softer voice: "It's the scarred guy from the Qing Gang."

Zheng Wanqing let go of his hand, took out the medicine box, and carefully wiped his palm with a cotton swab dipped in iodine.

Xie Yun looked at her blowing on the wound, and raised his lips slightly: "It's really nothing, I just pulled the gun a little hard. I'm going to the southern suburbs tomorrow."

"I'll go too." Zheng Wanqing blurted out, her eyes as firm as a rock.

"Nonsense!" Xie Yun frowned, "Southern Suburbs is in chaos right now."

She bit her lip and said, "I know it's dangerous. But when we were distributing porridge today, a little girl knelt in the snow for half an hour to ask for a bowl of porridge for her sick father..." Her voice choked, "The people of the southern suburbs can't wait."

Xie Yun sighed softly, put his hands on Zheng Wanqing's shoulders, stared into her eyes, and said sincerely and deeply: "Wanqing, I know you care about the people. But the situation in the southern suburbs is far more complicated than you think. The Qing Gang may have colluded with the Japanese behind the scenes. The situation may deteriorate further at any time and fall into greater panic. I will have to deal with various unknown dangers when I go there, and I really can't guarantee your safety."

Zheng Wanqing felt the coldness of Xie Yun's palm through her clothes, and the temperature made her heart tremble. She subconsciously wrapped her hands around his bony fingers, as if to warm up a piece of ice.

"I understand." She finally spoke, her voice so soft that it was almost inaudible.

"I'll send Adjutant Zhou to accompany you these few days. If he handles it properly, I can feel more at ease."

Zheng Wanqing nodded silently, then quickly walked into the inner room and took out a silk package.

"This is for you. Holding the reins in the snow hurts your hands." She carefully unfolded it, revealing a pair of suede gloves with soft wool lining. "Try it on to see if it fits your hand."

Xie Yun put on gloves, and the warm wool wrapped around his frozen fingers. He reached out and held her in his arms, resting his chin gently on the top of her head.

Neither of them spoke, only the north wind whistled outside the window.

After a long time, Xie Yun's cracked lips gently touched her forehead.

"Wait for me." His voice was unusually hoarse.

Zheng Wanqing clutched the front of his military uniform, buried her face in his chest, sniffed the mixed scent of gunpowder and blood on his body, and then uttered a soft "hmm".