Paranoia was rampant, real or imagined. The guards closely protected the residence and each held a sword while standing straight, eyes wide open. The concentration of their vigilance for movement had increased significantly, but as soon as they saw Pingting's pear blossom-like figure, followed by Moran behind her, they couldn't help look surprised.

Pingting stopped at the entrance, silently staring at the sturdy gate made of steel rods.

Although it was in good condition, it was definitely not enough to withstand one round of He Xia's attacks. It was not one used by the army, so what were the chances of it surviving a siege's weaponry?

Her fist was slightly clenched. No one noticed her shoulder slightly shaking. She took a deep breath of the icy air and closed her eyes.

When she opened her eyes once more, they were full of resolution.

"Open the gate."

The guards were surprised and glanced at each other.

Moran quickly strode to her side. His lowered his voice, full of anxiety. "Miss Bai..."

"You're also a battlefield veteran. This place will not last. Rather than having He Xia attack his way in, it's better to just welcome him in." She smoothly articulated every word, like crystal raindrops patterened on every guard's hearts.

The most surprising thing, however, was that the rain that fell washed away the dust in their hearts. Everyone was no longer worried about the outcome of failure and restored the calm composure they had before Chu Beijie.

"Open the door." She commanded softly once more.

Everyone remembered her proud, straight back view.

They removed the heavy horizontal bolt. The door slowly swung open with a series of loud creaks. Bit by bit, the patch of nothingness that lay beyond the residence, the snowy mountains that gleamed in the sunlight, appeared before their eyes.

Pingting stood in the middle of the entrance, greeting the wind. A gentle light flickered in her eyes as she gazed at the trees and forests ahead. There was an expression difficult to put to words.

The House of Jing-An of the past was so far away yet so close.

Like how her bare feet was separated only by a thin layer of soil from the warm air of the quiet underground.

If one were to gently dig away this thin layer of soil, the air would gush out.

It would gush into her hair, her body, her lips, her flowing blood, her organs, her every pore until they would be warmed and pained at the same time.

Her expression shifted toward the horizon. Who still knew the direction of Gui Le? Who still remembers the green tiles of the Jing-An Ducal Residence?

Dear Duchess, Master's troops are in the snowy mountain forest opposite of here.

With just one order, the scene would become one of bloody rivers and death, a point of complete heartlessness to the point of no return.

A cold wind blew past them. Pingting turned away her gaze and looked at Moran.

She grinded her teeth slightly but her eyes held no hesitation. "On the highest point of this gate, raise a white flag."

She was just like Chu Beijie. When she had decided something, no one could change her mind. Moran solemnly nodded.

Everyone knew without outside help, the residence would be captured sooner or later.

Captured or surrendered was simply the same thing.

The snow-white flag of shame slowly rose towards the highest point of the entrance. It unfolded in the force of the north wind, flapping a sound like cries of dissatisfaction.

Pingting took off her heavy coat, revealing her bright red dress.

Her red dress contrasted her white skin. She stood in her snow, the dress flapping exciting and beautiful.

Not just Moran but perhaps even Chu Beijie had never seen such a stunning Bai Pingting before.

Just by standing there wordlessly, she had already sucked away the energy of all nature, emptied all sights of the sky and earth.

Grief, concern, unspeakable thoughts of heartbreaking sadness, and the slightest trace of touching warmth were hidden in the depths of her eyes.

Her gaze rested on one place, in the forest mountain not too far away.

The branches were covered with a thick layer of snow, like a silver blanket. The pure white reflection gleamed back at everyones hearts, which were contrarily full of depression and frustration. Just how many enemies lurked over there?

With just one battle drum, perhaps thousands of soldiers would surge forward, or perhaps millions would overwhelm them.

But Pingting's gaze did not contain fear or anger.

Her expression was surprisingly gentle. The familiar people were there. The people she had been punished with, spent nights guarding with, studied with, admired snow with and played qin with were all people she got along well with.

Her gaze tempted the crowd's like magic. They all turned to the same direction as she, all eyes fixed on the mountain forest.

At first, no movement could be detected in the distance. Gradually, dozens of strong warriors popped out of the snow. They parted silently in the middle, allowing a tall handsome figure behind them to slowly move forward.

Dashing; like a star.

His lips did not move but still seemed to be laughing.

Unlike Chu Beijie's, his handsome face was a less angular but more gentle and romantic.

Yet his hand the held the sword, firm as Chu Beijie's.

From the moment he appeared, Pingting's eyes didn't ever waver, just like his gaze that remained on Pingting.

He Xia leisurely ambled towards Pingting. In the snow, he left lines of footsteps of equal length.

Moran's hand was clenched on the hilt of the sword, eyeing him like a hawk much like the other guards. His back was hunched as if prepared to use the fastest speed and most ruthless force to attack him at a moment's notice.

A few trusted confidants wearing casual clothing accompanied He Xia. They protected him from both sides. Every time He Xia took a few steps, the archers would alternate forwards and pull their bow towards the thousands of people around Pingting. They posed but did not fire.

Once the two parties grew close enough to exchange blows, He Xia stopped. He was before Pingting, close enough for her to see the complex struggle and oppression in his glittering eyes.

The cold wind froze the air to ice, freezing the distance between them. He could not take one step forward nor one step back.

It froze their bodies, just as much as it froze their words. It seemed to freeze the taste of smoke as well as the House of Jing-An's past.

He Xia had not considered the mixed feelings and the pain in her eyes when he stood before Pingting.

"Look, Master." In the end, Pingting broke the silence. She smiled openly and pointed her slender fingers at herself. "Isn't it pretty?"

The crimson dress was particularly eye-catching against the pristine whiteness of the snow. This spotless white jolted him back to the tranquil Jing-An Ducal Residence, when a Pingting of around thirteen ran towards him on snow. Her crimson dress seemingly had left wide traces on the snow. She had pouted at him, who was reading in a pavilion. "Master is a liar. This colour is terrible as a dress. I will never wear this again as it's both silly and old-fashioned," she had said while walking away.

"Don't go! It's very pretty, extremely pretty. I'm not lying! Pingting, Pingting, don't go. Let me draw you." He immediately jumped into the snow, stopping her. He cheerfully laughed, "Just one drawing. When you see it, you will know I did not lie."

The snow remained.

Yet the Jing-An Ducal Residence has been reduced to ashes.

He Xia took a deep breath. "You hate wearing crimson red the most."