Destined Hearts of Mu and Yu (GL) - Chapter 9

The captain of the guards nodded and reached for Qin Mu, but his hand was struck aside by Qin Lao’er’s sword. With a sharp whistle, Lao’er summoned a snow-white stallion that charged through the back gate. Its hooves lashed out, scattering a line of soldiers. Seizing the chance, Lao’er pulled Qin Mu up onto the horse.

Yet Qin Mu’s eyes never left Wei Hanyu. She stared at her intently, only for Hanyu to lower her head and avoid the gaze. Qin Mu’s heart ached with stifled grievance, but no words would come.

Lao’er flicked the reins. The stallion wheeled, hooves pounding as it galloped through the rear courtyard.

Only when Qin Mu had vanished in a trail of dust did Wei Hanyu lift her head. Her gaze, deep and unreadable, lingered on the distant horizon. Guards scrambled up from the ground, blades in hand, ready to pursue.

Wei Hanyu raised a slender sleeve. “Do not chase them.”

At once, the men halted and returned to her side. The captain barked, “There may be others lurking. Protect the princess first!”

Just then, another squad of guards rushed in, dropped to their knees, and reported, “Your Highness, Lord Zhou was found in the rear courtyard—along with a bundle.”

The bundle was handed up. Wei Hanyu opened it. Inside lay several ledgers. She flipped one open and instantly recognized the graceful handwriting—Qin Mu’s, every stroke clear and precise. As she closed the ledger, a sketch slipped free and fluttered to the ground.

A guard retrieved it, then froze in surprise. “Princess… is this not you?”

Wei Hanyu looked down. The painting showed a woman in flowing white robes, sword in hand, eyes sharp with killing intent, red lips slightly parted as though about to speak.

Her chest tightened with a painful jolt. She remembered that moment well—the day Qin Mu had been surrounded by men, radiant with pride, smug beyond measure. Rage had surged within her then; her sword had leapt from its sheath, and the word thief had burst from her lips.

Lu Xu hurried in, alarm on his face. “Hanyu, tell me—the bandits did not harm you, did they?”

Wei Hanyu gathered the scroll and ledgers into her arms. Without answering, she turned and left with her men, her brows shadowed with a trace of sorrow.

A fleeting encounter—no more than a glance—and yet it left the two of them parting in awkward silence.

Back on Huangming Mountain, Qin Mu shut herself inside her study. She refused to appear, neglected the affairs of the stronghold, and ate little, if at all.

Lao’er, helpless, dragged Qiu Chan to see her.

Qiu Chan merely cast him a lazy, disdainful look. “What else? She’s sick. Terminally so.”

Lao’er paled. “Impossible! The chief has always been strong! Doctor Qiu, prescribe something quickly!”

“There is no medicine for this.”

“Don’t frighten me like that! If it’s incurable, is there any hope left for her?” His knees trembled. He cursed himself—had he known, he would never have let Qin Mu meet Wei Hanyu.

“There is hope,” Qiu Chan replied coolly. “If she chooses it herself. She suffers from lovesickness. Tell me, can you cure that?”

Lao’er exhaled with relief. “By heaven, next time don’t speak in half-sentences! You nearly scared me to death.”

“All of this is your fault.”

“My fault?!” Lao’er bristled, then, seeing Laosan return from training, immediately pointed at him in fury. “He was supposed to capture Zhou Hengkai, but instead he dragged Miss Wei up the mountain!”

Laosan’s eyes bulged. “What? You praised me then! Said I was the chief’s lucky star, bringing a heaven-sent match to her side!”

“Match? She hasn’t eaten for days! This is no match—it’s a curse, a cursed fate!” Lao’er roared.

At that moment, the study door creaked open. The three turned eagerly, expecting a pale and haggard Qin Mu. Instead, she appeared lively, eyes bright, lips curved in excitement.

With hands clasped behind her back, she walked slowly forward. “I have an important announcement.”

The word important made Lao’er’s stomach drop. He clutched Laosan’s arm. “Brother, hold me—I feel faint already.”

Qin Mu’s eyes glittered with mischief. From behind her back, she drew out a scroll.

“What’s that? It burns my eyes!” Lao’er recoiled. He loathed all things imperial; once, a single decree had destroyed his family.

“The imperial examination notice,” Qiu Chan said flatly, reading the golden characters.

“What?!” Lao’er snatched it, scanned it, then lifted his eyes in disbelief toward Qin Mu.

She nodded.

He shook his head violently.

She nodded again, even more firmly.

“Chief… this is madness!” Lao’er groaned.

“I’ve decided,” Qin Mu said with confidence. “I will sit for the exams. I will become an official. I will no longer be a bandit.”

“This is no jest! You are the chief of Huangming Mountain!”

“And who will know once I descend the mountain?” she countered.

“You’re too skilled in martial arts.”

“Then I won’t use them.”

“You’re too clever.”

“And doesn’t the court need clever men?” She tapped her temple with a grin.

“You mean to be a scholar?”

“Exactly. Tomorrow I descend the mountain. From then on, I’ll be nothing more than a frail bookish youth. I’ve even written a background story for myself. Come—help me refine it.”

She dragged them into the study. Papers littered the room, ink smearing every surface. She handed each of them a sheet. “Read aloud.”

“Qin Mu, native of Jinan, Shandong,” Qiu Chan read.

“Family made its fortune in salt,” Lao’er continued, frowning. He glanced at Laosan, who flushed red and shoved his page back. “I can’t read. You do it.”

“Parents died young,” Lao’er read, startled.

Qin Mu shrugged. “True enough.”

“Two elder brothers.” Lao’er blinked, then pointed at himself and Laosan.

Qin Mu nodded solemnly.

Lao’er groaned, thrusting the paper at Qiu Chan. “I can’t read anymore. Let me rest.”

“Mu, if you wish to make trouble, so be it. But why drag them into it?” Qiu Chan asked coldly.

“A lone scholar is suspicious. A family isn’t.”

“And why am I listed as your father’s widow?”

“A household of only men would raise questions. A woman balances it. If you don’t like being a widow, you can play the wife of one of my brothers instead.”

“As if I’d ever look at either of them.”

“Exactly. You’d ruin the act. Better the widow.”

She spat in disgust.

But Qin Mu pressed on. “I’ve even scouted lodgings in the capital. Just a li from Jiqing Street, lined with rouge and jewelry.” She patted Lao’er’s shoulder. “To the west, Wangyue Tower—fine food and wine. To the south, Rouge Street, with all the beauties money can buy.” She turned to Laosan, whose eyes were already gleaming. “And to the north—the great martial arena, where masters from across the land gather. Perfect for sparring.”

Laosan’s face lit up. “Where the chief goes, I go!”

“And you, Lao’er?”

“You’ve never led us astray. I’ll follow you again.”

“And you, Qiu Chan?” Qin Mu’s eyes sparkled.

Though her expression was cold, Qiu Chan allowed the faintest smile. “If I could endure this forsaken mountain, I can endure the capital. I’ll go.”

Qin Mu laughed aloud. “Excellent! Tomorrow we depart for the examinations!”

But when they finally reached the capital, the truth was far from the picture Qin Mu had painted. Their new home lay several li from the bustling streets, in the barren outskirts. There was no grand residence waiting for them—only a row of small, dusty cottages, long abandoned.

Qin Mu, sleeves rolled high, happily began sweeping out the cobwebs.

The other three exchanged dark looks, each silently considering escape.