Chapter One: Three Years in Servitude

Great Qian, Imperial Horse Bureau.

Snow blanketed the earth, the wind was biting, and winter's chill brought a desolate stillness. All was silent between heaven and earth; even wrapped in a soft leather robe, the cold wind seeping through the sleeves was enough to make one shudder.

At this moment, outside the Imperial Horse Bureau, two carriages stood side by side. Beside them, a man and a woman, clad in white fox fur, exuded an aura of nobility and refinement that seemed worlds apart from the foul, filthy chaos of the bureau, utterly out of place.

Facing them was Lin Qian, dressed in faded linen patched countless times, his body filthy and reeking of stable life, the stench of horse manure clinging to him. He stood opposite the pair, his gaze filled only with unfamiliarity.

"Sun Qian, Father sent me to bring you home," the woman in white fox fur, her hair adorned with dragon and phoenix hairpins, her bearing like an immortal from a hidden valley, spoke calmly.

"I have been demoted; this is my home now. Miss Sun, I must decline your invitation," Lin Qian knelt in refusal.

"You call yourself a servant?" Sun Feiyan’s disbelief was clear, but it was quickly replaced by anger.

"Sun Qian, do you blame us? Do you blame us for sending you to the Imperial Horse Bureau?"

"I dare not blame anyone. My fate is simply as it should be," Lin Qian looked up at Sun Feiyan, his eyes devoid of argument and anger, holding only endless calm.

Once, he was the heir of the Western Defender’s Mansion, basking in spring’s glory and enjoying unparalleled honor in Great Qian. Like father, like son; at eighteen, he joined the army, fought bravely alongside his father, earning the renown of father-and-son warriors on the battlefield.

But everything changed with the arrival of a man: the one now standing beside Sun Feiyan—Sun Feng.

He was not the Western Defender’s true son, but a pretender who had stolen Sun Feng’s identity for eighteen years. When this truth emerged, the entire manor was shaken. Though his father and family elders assured him repeatedly that nothing would change, that he remained the heir, those who once treated him with warm affection began to turn cold, some even hostile. Their kindness remained, but its recipient was no longer him.

Soon after, he was demoted, made a servant in the Imperial Horse Bureau, and not a single soul spoke up for him despite the Western Defender’s vast influence.

Here, Lin Qian understood at last: hearts are cold and unpredictable. Since the true heir appeared, he, the impostor, became a rootless reed, drifting wherever the current led.

But what fault was his?

Born to a military family, he had always demanded excellence from himself. While other heirs indulged in pleasure, he was the top scholar in his academy, honored by the Dragon Pavilion scholars. At eighteen, he followed his father to war, earning thirty-six scars—fatal knife wounds, near-deadly arrow injuries. He fought with his life and blood, all for the dream of being a good son to his father, the pillar of the Sun family, their pride, their hope for the future.

But it was all a mirage, a futile effort, like drawing water with a basket.

Now, he was merely a stable slave in the Imperial Horse Bureau, a stranger to the manor he once called home.

"Heh," Sun Feng, his face shadowed, his demeanor aloof, let out a contemptuous laugh.

"My good brother, I know you’ve suffered here. Must I, your younger brother, beg you to return? Should I kneel to you, plead for you to come back to the mansion?"

As he spoke, Sun Feng made to kneel, but Sun Feiyan quickly stopped him.

Still, Sun Feiyan’s anger remained undiminished.

"Brother, a man’s knees are worth their weight in gold. You owe him nothing, so there’s no need to kneel," she said, turning to Lin Qian.

"Sun Qian, don’t be ungrateful. Three years in the Imperial Horse Bureau may be hard, but you enjoyed eighteen years of glory in the mansion. What is a few years of hardship compared to that?"

"My brother spent eighteen years outside, never enjoying a single resource from the manor. Now, to bring you home, he’s willing to kneel. Don’t pretend to suffer without cause."

"Come home with us, and I will forgive everything you’ve done today. But if you persist in your stubbornness, do not blame me for never forgiving you again," Sun Feiyan said coldly, staring at Lin Qian.

Once, Lin Qian used to cling to her in the manor, calling her "sister," always following her, obeying her every word.

Sun Feiyan believed her words would surely move Lin Qian to return with them.

But instead, Lin Qian bowed, "Miss Sun, Young Master Sun, the winter wind is harsh, and you are of noble birth. Please return to your carriage. I will take my leave."

With that, Lin Qian turned to go.

"You—you scoundrel!"

Seeing Lin Qian turn away, Sun Feiyan could no longer restrain herself. She glanced around, then seized the whip from the carriage.

A sharp crack echoed.

Born in the Western Defender’s Mansion, a place of warriors, all—young and old, men and women—trained with weapons.

Sun Feiyan lashed out in anger; in an instant, Lin Qian felt a burning pain on his back, followed by a piercing agony deep to the bone. Unable to stand, he collapsed in the snow.

When he forced himself to rise, he saw that the snow around him was stained with blood, blooming like plum blossoms.

"Will you come home or not?" Sun Feiyan held the bloodied whip, demanding an answer.

Lin Qian said nothing. Once upright, he did not even glance at the two, but walked toward the Imperial Horse Bureau.

"You scoundrel!" Sun Feiyan shouted, raising her whip again.

But the expected pain did not come. Instead, a familiar voice sounded in his ear.

"Sun Qian, come back."

Lin Qian turned, surprised to see that, at some point, a woman had descended from another carriage. She wore white sable fur, her beauty unrivaled, as if she’d stepped from a painting.

The woman stood between him and Sun Feiyan, blocking the whip.

Seeing her, Lin Qian hurriedly knelt, "Your servant greets Princess Anping!"

Princess Anping, Ye Qingyan, thirteenth daughter of the imperial clan, child of the Emperor’s brother, the Northern Guardian. At her birth, clouds gathered and the birds flocked in celebration, a sign of the Emperor’s favor. Her title, Anping, spoke to her importance.

Seeing Lin Qian kneel before her, Ye Qingyan’s expression darkened, words caught in her throat.

Once, as a young man in shining armor, sword at his side, he had ridden high-spirited steeds with her, discussing the world, debating rivers and mountains, dreaming of great deeds, hoping to marry her in glory for all to see.

Now, that spirited youth was gone, replaced only by Lin Qian, who called himself her servant.