Yunsheng headed to the stables. He was provided with a different horse and brought the necessary supplies; the man mounted the saddle and set off on his journey. As he rode past the borders of the Governor-General's estate, anxiety spread through his chest once again.
The cold headwind pierced right through him, and with every passing second, the feeling of anxiety grew sharper. He tried to focus on the road, but thoughts of Jihua gave him no peace.
He understood: this errand was officially important, and it was impossible to disobey. The Governor had given an order—meaning there was no backing down, nor could he afford to raise suspicion. But something felt... wrong.
The horse shifted nervously beneath him, as if sensing its master's mood. Yunsheng tightened his grip on the reins, trying to appear calm, but his heart was racing:
"Why did the Governor send me right now of all times? Why me specifically? What is happening at the residence?"
He knew he couldn't refuse. Any doubt or protest would have looked like insolence. And he couldn't allow his own suspicions to provoke unnecessary questions. Yet, every mile was a struggle.
He rode onward. Dusk descended, the sun hid behind the horizon, and the shadows of the trees stretched out like long ghosts. Logically, he should have stopped at the inn he had just passed, to let himself and his mount rest, but he didn't. He gripped the reins tighter, whispering:
"Sorry, buddy, but we have to keep going."
The horse dashed forward, the whistling wind lashing at his ears. The road was quiet and clear. He paid no mind to the fatigue, the cold, or the darkness. A feeling grew within him that every minute of delay could cost him dearly.
The night fell like a thick curtain, and only the clatter of hooves on the ground was a sign that he was moving forward.
Yunsheng understood: despite the exhaustion and danger, this was his chance to arrive early. And so, he rode. Through the entire night and all the next day, stopping only to change horses at posting inns.
The sun was already leaning towards sunset when he arrived in Lianshui. The long, grueling journey had left traces of fatigue on his face, and his muscles ached from continuous riding. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Yunsheng identified himself at the gates and presented his seal. He was let through and escorted to the garrison. The county commander received him in the official hall.
"A dispatch from the Governor-General," the man said, holding out the sealed scroll.
The commander took the letter, broke the seal, and skimmed the lines. The seconds dragged on. Yunsheng waited in silence.
Finally, the man looked up.
"Hmm..." he drew out. "You are fast."
Yunsheng frowned slightly.
"The order was to depart immediately."
"I understand. It's just..." he glanced at the letter again. "We weren't expecting this dispatch for at least a couple of days. The scouts haven't returned yet," he answered calmly. "Without their report, drafting a reply right now is pointless. They will arrive tomorrow by evening, and the full report—a day after that."
He carefully rolled up the scroll.
"You can tell the Governor-General that a reply will be sent as soon as everything is ready."
Yunsheng nodded.
The garrison commander looked at him more closely.
"You must have ridden without stopping."
"Almost."
"Then I advise you to rest," the man said. "There is a decent inn in town. There's no point in rushing back today—you won't be taking anything new back with you anyway."
Yunsheng thanked him and left the hall.
Once outside, leading his horse by the bridle, he slowed his pace.
"Expected in a couple of days. The scouts are still on their way. The reply is not urgent."
He stopped and looked up at the sky—the sun was already leaning towards sunset. That meant it was never about the letter. Yunsheng gripped the reins.
"Damn it..." he exhaled quietly.
Yunsheng did not go to the inn. He led his horse out past the city gates and stopped to tighten the girth.
He stood there, looking at the road, and realized—the errand was merely a pretext.
They had removed him so he wouldn't be around when the time came.
Yunsheng exhaled sharply and leaped into the saddle.
"I'm sorry," he muttered to the horse.
He urged it forward. The wind lashed at his face, his cloak whipped against his back, and his thoughts fractured, leaving only one: I have to make it in time.
Night fell swiftly. The man stopped only to give the horse a brief respite before driving it forward once again.
Fragments of Houwei's words and the look in Jihua's eyes flashed through his mind.
Five days, Houwei had said.
Yunsheng clenched his teeth.
A lie. Or a half-truth.
He met the dawn still on the road. His eyes burned from exhaustion, and his hands were growing numb, but he didn't slow his pace, stopping only to change horses at the inns. The sun rose, then leaned towards sunset once more—day gave way to night, night to day, and the road stretched on and on.
Only towards the morning of the second day, when his strength was nearly depleted, did Yunsheng crest a hill—and in the distance, he saw the familiar outlines of the residence.
And the first thing that caught his eye were the ribbons, flags, decorated gates, and people.
His heart clenched painfully.
"No..." escaped his lips.
He kicked his heels, forcing the horse to accelerate. Panic, anger, and despair welled up in his chest. If he had ridden at a normal pace and stopped for the night, he wouldn't have made it in time.