The couple joined hands and headed to the border.
On the day they left the capital, the morning light was just beginning to break. The red silk on Zhuque Street hadn't completely faded, yet it was already tinged with the desolation of parting. Shen Qingci, clad in black soft armor and a long sword at her waist, stood tall and straight as a pine tree; Su Yunqing, dressed in plain, athletic attire, carried a bag full of medicinal herbs, her gentle demeanor replaced by a more capable and spirited air. The two mounted their horses side by side, behind them the worried gazes of their family and friends, ahead of them the long journey to the northern frontier.
The road ahead was long and arduous, frost and snow a constant companion. At first, the setting sun offered some warmth, but the further north they traveled, the more desolate the scenery became. The vegetation along the official road thinned out, replaced by barren wastelands and exposed rocks. The north wind whipped up sand and gravel, stinging their faces. Fearing that Su Yunqing would suffer, Shen Qingci only traveled half a day's journey each day, finding a dilapidated post station or a sheltered valley to rest in the evening.
During the day, Shen Qingci would ride ahead to scout the way, a map in a leather pouch at her waist. She would stop from time to time to check the terrain and mark possible supply points and dangerous passes. Su Yunqing, on the other hand, would organize medicinal herbs on horseback, classifying them into hemostatic, anti-inflammatory, and sedative types, carefully wrapping them in oiled paper. She also prepared enough dry food and water purification pills in her bag—she knew that supplies were scarce on the border, and these ordinary medicinal herbs might save lives on the battlefield.
On the third day of their journey, they entered a small town that had been ravaged by the Xiongnu. Amidst the ruins, withered grass swayed in the wind, and several wooden houses were burned to a crisp, the air thick with the stench of burnt flesh and blood. A few surviving villagers huddled in a corner, ragged and emaciated, the intermittent cries of children sending a chill down their spines.
Shen Qingci reined in his horse, his eyes filled with sorrow. He dismounted and helped an elderly man to his feet: "Old man, when did the Xiongnu leave? How many people are left in the town?"
The old man shook his head tremblingly, tears blurring his vision: "Three days ago... they burned, killed, and looted, taking away the grain and the young, strong men, leaving only us, the old, weak, sick, and disabled..."
Su Yunqing's eyes were already red. She unloaded her baggage, took out dry food and medicine, and quickly walked towards the injured people. She knelt on the ground and cleaned the wound of a woman with a knife wound on her arm. Her movements were gentle but quick. She then took out her homemade ointment, applied it, and carefully bandaged it with a strip of cloth: "Don't be afraid. The ointment can relieve pain and reduce inflammation. It will get better in a few days."
Watching his wife's busy figure, Shen Qingci felt both heartache and admiration. He turned to the soldiers accompanying him and instructed, "Distribute half of the grain on the carts to the people, and help them repair their habitable houses." Afterward, he gathered the surviving young men in the town and taught them how to build simple defensive fortifications and impart basic self-defense skills: "The Xiongnu may come again. What we can do is make ourselves capable of protecting ourselves."
That night, they stayed in a dilapidated temple in the small town. By the faint moonlight, Su Yunqing continued sorting medicinal herbs, while Shen Qingci studied the map beside her, occasionally whispering a few words to her. Outside the temple, the north wind howled, seemingly mixed with the sound of Hun cavalry hooves; inside, the candlelight flickered, illuminating the two figures side by side, warm and resolute.
The next morning, as they parted, the people, with tears in their eyes, held their meager rations of coarse grains and saw them off. Shen Qingci accepted a bowl of warm rice porridge and said loudly to the crowd, "Rest assured, everyone, we will surely defeat the Xiongnu on our journey to the border and restore a peaceful homeland for you!"
The steeds set off again, galloping further north. The wind and sand remained, the road ahead was still treacherous, but Shen Qingci and Su Yunqing's conviction grew stronger—they were not only acting on the imperial decree, but also for the displaced people along the way, and to protect this war-torn land. They knew the real test lay ahead at the Zhenbei Army camp, on the battlefield where swords clashed.
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