Destined Hearts of Mu and Yu (GL) - Chapter 49

Qin Mu rode her horse westward at full speed, the whistling wind carrying with it stinging sand that lashed against her face. Yet she felt none of the pain — her heart only prayed silently that Sister Hanyu would not come to harm.

After some distance, the horse tracks in the yellow sand became chaotic, and the clash of weapons rang faintly not far ahead. Qin Mu’s heart leapt with relief. She lashed her whip and urged her horse forward, only to see that of the several hundred soldiers with Wei Hanyu, only a few dozen remained, still resisting desperately.

Wei Hanyu’s mount lay collapsed in the sand, barely clinging to life. Qin Mu’s brows tightened. She lowered her silver spear and thrust it forward, skewering several enemies at once. With a light push of her foot on the horse’s back, she leapt down, gripped the spear with both hands, and swept forward, felling several more. With a twist of her wrist, a surge of inner strength shattered the armor of those before her, bl00d splattering onto the yellow sands in a grisly scene.

Her sudden and ferocious display shocked the desert warriors. Once so arrogant, they now stood still, clutching their lances and pointing sharp blades at her, but not daring to advance.

“Princess, do not be afraid — the main army will be here any moment!” Qin Mu shouted coldly toward the desert troops.

The weary Wei soldiers, hearing this, were instantly roused with courage. Wei Hanyu looked toward Qin Mu, biting her lip, her mouth moving as though to speak — but Qin Mu leaned close and whispered softly.

“Go to my horse and fetch a weapon.”

Wei Hanyu nodded, tossing her own sword to Qin Mu. Qin Mu caught it, swung once, and snapped her spear in half, then held spear and sword in each hand, her brows knit tight. With a fierce step, she charged into the enemy’s line of spears, lightly tapping their shafts before vaulting upward in a graceful spin. Her blade and spear tip cut swift arcs across their throats. In an instant, the entire front row of desert soldiers collapsed, while those behind instinctively retreated in fear.

Qin Mu advanced a few more steps, and again the enemy fell back. It was not cowardice — it was that she had cut down more than ten of their comrades in the blink of an eye. Who would dare step forward now?

But then the sound of drums thundered from the distance — dong, dong, dong — each beat carrying a crushing authority. At once, the fear in the desert soldiers’ eyes vanished, replaced by fervor. Shouting in their tongue, they surged forward again.

Qin Mu was ready. Wielding her short weapons against their long spears, she fought ruthlessly, every strike swift and deadly, always aiming at vital points. The remaining Wei soldiers rallied beside her, clashing fiercely with the enemy.

Time dragged on, the battle deadlocked. Qin Mu’s ears caught the sound of approaching hooves. The corner of her lips curled into a faint smile — the main force was nearly here.

But suddenly, the enemy drums changed — from rapid beats to long, slow thuds: dong… dong… dong…

The soldier facing Qin Mu trembled, fear flashing in his eyes. She was about to ponder the reason when a storm of arrows rained down.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

Qin Mu grabbed her opponent and used him as a shield, blocking dozens of arrows. But the volley did not stop. Minutes passed; her makeshift shield was pierced by dozens of shafts, and one arrow sank into her leg.

She turned to look — hardly any soldiers were left standing, whether Wei or desert. The sandstorm fell still, and her vision cleared.

A large palanquin appeared, carrying a figure lounging lazily inside. In his hand, he toyed with a purple command flag, surrounded by hundreds of archers. Qin Mu knew: one wave of that flag, and they would all die.

Yet the figure made no such order. He simply gazed ahead.

Wei Hanyu, now mounted on Qin Mu’s horse, galloped closer. The man in the palanquin noticed her too, and his flag stirred slightly. Qin Mu’s heart clenched — not good.

The flag fell, and a volley of arrows screamed forth. Qin Mu kicked away the corpse she had used as a shield, sprang forward, and with lightning speed slashed down a dozen arrows midair.

“Get on the horse!” Wei Hanyu reached out, her eyes filled with desperate urgency. Qin Mu saw that gaze — a look she had never seen before — and nodded. She was about to grasp Wei Hanyu’s hand when an arrow shot forth like lightning.

Wei Hanyu’s horse reared in terror, nearly throwing her off. With all her skill, she yanked the reins and steadied it. Qin Mu turned back — the man in the palanquin was now standing, his command flag gone, a bow in his hand. Clearly, he had loosed that shot himself.

“Mu’er, give me your hand!” Wei Hanyu called again, stretching toward her.

Qin Mu exhaled softly. She could see that this enemy sought to capture them alive, not kill.

“Mu’er, get on!” The sandstorm howled. Wei Hanyu’s voice cut through it, pleading.

Qin Mu clenched her teeth, feigned a reach — and as expected, another arrow came streaking. This time, she seized it mid-flight and plunged the arrowhead into the horse’s flank.

The startled beast reared and bolted wildly toward the city. Wei Hanyu’s eyes widened — she understood Qin Mu’s intention. Her lips parted to protest, but before she could speak, the horse thundered away.

In that instant, dozens of arrows turned toward Wei Hanyu’s retreating figure. Qin Mu, enduring the pain in her wounded leg, wrenched a spear from the ground and spun it in great arcs, forming a shield that shattered every arrow aimed at Wei Hanyu.

Another wave came. Her body was drained, her leg bled heavily, but she forced herself to endure, blocking them all. Only when she heard the shouts of Wei reinforcements behind her did she finally breathe in relief.

The arrow storm ceased. Then came the sound of hoofbeats, drawing closer. Several desert riders galloped toward her. Qin Mu tried to lift her weapon, but ropes lashed out, binding her arms. Her weapons clattered to the sand.

Before she could muster her strength, her body was ripped sideways, dragged heavily across the ground. Agony tore through her as she was hauled several yards. Just as she struggled to rise, a whip cracked down on her neck.

Darkness swallowed her.

***

When she awoke, the sound of a guqin drifted to her ears — sometimes surging, sometimes lingering — each note striking her like the desert drums.

Her hands brushed what she lay on: soft, like fur. She opened her eyes to see a vast palace. If not for the unfamiliar surroundings, she might have thought she had returned to the imperial palace.

“You’ve finally woken.”

The voice came closer, carrying a strange, unsettling air. Qin Mu turned toward it, her vision still hazy with weakness. As the figure drew near, she saw it was a woman.

The woman’s features were not like those of Wei — her bone structure was sharper, her eyes deep-set, their slow blinks holding a hypnotic allure. Qin Mu stared, dazed.

The woman’s lips curved faintly. “Am I that beautiful to you?”

Qin Mu flushed and lowered her gaze, uneasy. Looking down, she noticed her wounded leg had been bandaged. Gratitude welled in her chest. She lifted her head, cupped her fists, and said:

“May I ask the lady’s name?”

The woman’s expression was peculiar, so Qin Mu quickly explained:

“This humble one is grateful for your life-saving grace. I only wish to know your name, so I may repay you someday.”

The woman laughed softly, as if amused by Qin Mu’s earnest manner. Is she truly this simple, or merely pretending? Propping her chin on her hand, her deep eyes locked on Qin Mu.

“You truly want to repay me?”

Qin Mu nodded.

The woman’s smile widened. Her sun-kissed skin and enchanting grin carried a unique charm.

“Then tell me — what is your name?” she asked, intrigued.

“I… my name is Wei Mu.” Qin Mu met her gaze and spoke evenly.

The woman’s smile deepened. “Touch your left earlobe.”

Puzzled, Qin Mu raised her hand. Her fingers found a hard object — a silver ring. Pulling lightly, she felt a sting.

“That is my mark,” the woman said softly. “From now on, you belong to me.”

Qin Mu frowned, about to reply, when a commotion erupted outside the hall.

“Commander, without the princess’s orders, you cannot go in!”

Princess? Qin Mu froze, looking again at the woman before her, then at the luxurious surroundings. Her mind raced like lightning — Have I been captured into the desert princess’s palace?

Before she could think further, several burly men stormed in, blocking the sunlight.

“Princess, this one killed so many of our brothers. We must avenge them!” one shouted.

Qin Mu glared fiercely. “And you have killed many of our Wei soldiers! This war was provoked by you — we only defended ourselves!”

The man bristled, raising his blade, but at a single cold glance from the woman — Princess Qin Ling — his rage was smothered, and he stepped back.

“From now on, do not touch her. She is mine. You will live in peace with her,” Qin Ling ordered icily.

The men were stunned, then furious. One pointed at Qin Mu, his eyes wide. “Princess, he is not worthy to be your servant!”

Qin Mu chuckled. “If I’m only a servant, what does ‘worthy or not’ matter?”

“You—!” the man spluttered, silenced by Qin Ling’s presence.

“Suzha, I wish to rest. Leave us.” Qin Ling flicked her hand dismissively.

The man — Suzha — gawked, pointing at Qin Mu. “Princess, what about… her?”

Qin Mu had already realized something was wrong. This was clearly the princess’s bedchamber, and she was lying on the princess’s bed. Her cheeks burned.

And then came Qin Ling’s words, which froze her in place:

“She stays. Tonight, she will keep me company.”