Chapter 12: The Elder, Master of the Five Spirits

Xifeng was unfazed by her daughter's impulsive requests, attributing them to a child's nature. She gently set her down and reminded her softly, "Don't play too long and catch a chill."

"I understand," Chu Junhan replied, and with that, she darted out of the tent in a flash.

Yingdie, waiting outside, saw Chu Junhan emerge alone, without Xifeng accompanying her, and knew at once that her young mistress had slipped out to play. Not daring to slack off for even a moment, she hurried after her. "Miss, slow down! Don't fall!"

Chu Junhan was soon breathless, panting as clouds of warm air escaped her lips. Gazing out at the endless expanse of snow, she finally had a moment to think carefully.

Advance step by step, was it? Now that she had resolved to vie for the throne, she needed no reminder from Wulingzi to tread carefully and act with caution. But before all else, she had to determine whether Cen Song was friend or foe.

The Chu Junhan of today was no longer the timid girl who once hid in the general’s residence poring over military texts. Now, to prevent the calamity that would befall the Chu family twelve years hence, she had sworn never again to show mercy or hesitation.

"Miss, what are you writing on the ground?" Yingdie, Xifeng’s maid, was even less literate than her mistress and could only watch in confusion as the little figure scratched characters into the snow with a branch.

Chu Junhan looked up, pressed her chubby hand to her lips in a gesture for silence, then returned to her writing.

And so Yingdie, a grown woman, obeyed the silent command of a four-year-old child, standing dutifully by her side. Even as Chu Junhan’s small hands grew red with cold, Yingdie dared not make a sound for fear of disturbing her. It was as though her young mistress was born with an air of command.

Squatting in the snow, her tiny figure became even smaller, resembling a plump little ball.

"In the eighth month of the seventh year of Tianwu, the cur Emperor celebrates his birthday. Father takes Mother to pay respects, leaving me behind in Pingzhou. I remember Father brought few troops on this journey. Since the Emperor so deeply fears him, why did he not seize the chance to strike?"

Yingdie, standing motionless, was growing numb with cold; how much worse must it be for the little girl? She rubbed her hands together. "Miss, what are you talking about?"

"Stay back!" Chu Junhan snapped as Yingdie lifted her foot to approach. She did not want all her painstakingly written timelines to be trampled into a blur.

Yingdie froze, her foot suspended awkwardly in midair. In that instant, she realized with a start that her young mistress possessed the very gravity of the general himself—no, more than that, a sovereign presence.

"Miss, I—"

"If you’re cold, Yingdie, you may return first. I’ll come back shortly," Chu Junhan said, busily inscribing words into the snow.

Yingdie regarded the small back before her. In this moment, it was as though she no longer recognized the child she had watched grow up. Was this truly a four-year-old? Why did her young mistress speak with such crisp authority—and with the tone of an adult?

"I’m not cold. I’ll stay with you." Unconsciously, Yingdie’s attitude shifted to one of deference; perhaps she didn’t even realize that she had begun to address Chu Junhan with the respectful form.

Chu Junhan merely acknowledged her with a brief response; for now, her entire attention was absorbed in the words she carved into the snow.