A Farm Girl: Three Acres of Fertile Land Can Be Exchanged for a Country

Dried blood was hidden in the gaps of her armor; her helmet was nowhere to be found; and her hair, which she had finally managed to grow long, was now matted together with blood.

The skin on her fingers was torn open, and after bleeding so much, it turned swollen and white. It wasn't from an injury, but from holding the knife for too long and swinging it too hard, which had chafed the skin raw.

Adan secretly glanced at her back and felt that she was simply a female warrior reincarnated; no woman in the world could have such spirit as her.

Seeing that the enemy troops outside the Great Wall had withdrawn from the defensive line, Li Deming turned his face to Wutong:

"Now that the army beyond the Great Wall has completely withdrawn, we have also avenged the Prince thanks to Your Majesty. Let's part ways here. I will take men to Chuanzhou now and bring the Prince out."

After Duan Yanxi was seriously injured and fell into a coma that day, Wutong had someone send him back to Chuanzhou and asked the best doctors to treat him, but he has not woken up since.

Wutong's hair danced in the wind on both sides of her face, and strands of hair occasionally covered the bridge of her nose and her eyes, which held a complex expression.

She shook her head and pursed her pale lips. "He is injured and not fit for a long journey. Rather than sending him to the southern border, it would be better to keep him in Sichuan for treatment."

"Stay in Chuanzhou? But he is the King of Southern Xinjiang."

"so what?"

Wutong recalled the scene he saw when he arrived that day, and his heart ached. He turned his horse around.

"This matter is not open to discussion. If you are worried that Dongqi's medical efforts are insufficient, feel free to send people to Chuanzhou. Dongqi's army will not stop you."

Her voice was carried away by the wind, and her figure receded further and further into the distance.

Adan glanced at Li Deming, nothing more, and led his army to follow Wutong back to Chuanzhou.

Li Deming stood still on his horse, a bloody gash on his left cheek adding a touch of brutality to his heroic face.

One of the military officers, still uneasy, rode forward to his side and asked, "Sir, what should we do next? They are, after all, people of Dongqi. How can we leave the Prince under their noses? Why don't we take advantage of the situation and seize the Prince?"

Li Deming shook his head.

The man was taken aback and asked, "Isn't Your Excellency afraid that they will use the prince as a hostage to take the opportunity to attack the Southern Frontier and unify the world?"

Li Deming found this question difficult to answer.

He had known Wutong for many years, and had almost watched her rise to her current position step by step. However, their relationship was by no means good. Back in the Prince's mansion, they simply performed their respective duties and had virtually no private interactions.

However, he had an inexplicable trust in her, feeling that she wouldn't be the kind of person to do such a sinister thing.

Perhaps it was because she was so resolute in avenging Duan Fufeng that day that he had the illusion that she loved Duan Fufeng.

However, even they themselves don't know the details of what happened between them, so how could an outsider like him possibly know?

After thinking for a moment, Li Deming instructed, "The main army shall temporarily withdraw twenty li and find a place to set up camp. Also, select a team of about a hundred men to accompany me to Chuanzhou to protect the Prince."

"Sir, are you going in too? What if..." the military officer worried.

Li Deming looked towards Chuanzhou. Along the way, there was a long, winding black dragon on the mountain, which was the Eastern Qi army that had turned back.

"Don't worry, I will definitely bring Your Highness back safely."

His attitude was firm, so the military officer had no choice but to stop talking and, following his orders, selected a team of nearly a hundred guards to accompany him into Sichuan.

Before nightfall, Wutong arrived at the residence of the Prefect of Chuanzhou.

When Duan Yanxi fled to this place, he stayed here. Now that Duan Yanxi is gone, Duan Fufeng has been sent here to recuperate. Life is truly unpredictable.

The prefect's residence was built with exceptional care, adorned with carved railings and painted pillars everywhere. There were no servants left in the mansion, but Wutong had sent some soldiers, who, with their help, kept the mansion clean and tidy, creating a peaceful atmosphere.

As night fell, lanterns were hung throughout the mansion, illuminating the grand residence.

Wutong didn't bother to eat or take a bath. As soon as she entered the room, she walked quickly inside until she reached a door. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, catching the guards behind her off guard. They almost bumped into her back.

"Your Majesty, why don't you go in?" the guard asked, puzzled.

Wutong looked at the door, unsure whether she should take that step.

It's understandable that she asked someone to rescue Duan Fufeng; the other side sent troops because they were rescuing her, and she should repay them.

But once you're inside, it's not just about repaying a debt; it's also about showing your goodwill.

What she feared most was precisely this affection.

The guard asked another question. Wutong closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and felt even more nervous than when facing a thousand troops. She mustered her courage, pushed open the door, and stepped over the threshold to go inside.

There was a large bed in the room, and Duan Fufeng was lying on it. His face was hidden by the hanging bed curtains, and he was covered with a finely made thin quilt. Only his two hands were outside, resting on his stomach.

His sleeves were snow-white, and his hands were also snow-white, with long, slender, and well-proportioned fingers, making him look like a jade sculpture.

So beautiful, yet so lifeless.

A guard from the southern border stood by the bedside, tending to him. Wutong didn't dare go over to look at his face, and turned to ask the guard, "How is the prince?"

The guard replied truthfully, "The doctor has tried many remedies, but the prince still hasn't woken up."

"What about his injuries?"

"The injury is healing day by day."

Now that his injuries have healed, he shouldn't suddenly die. But why hasn't he woken up? Could it be that he damaged a nerve and became a vegetable?

Wutong wanted to lift the bed curtains to take a look, but as she raised her hand, an invisible barrier seemed to block her way, preventing her from moving forward any further.

The guards exchanged glances, and one of them said, "Your Majesty has been fighting for months and must be very tired. We won't disturb you here; please wait outside."

Wutong was slightly surprised and nodded.

The guards then left the room and stood guard outside the door.

She knew their intentions, smiled silently, then looked down at the bed, her smile freezing on her face.

Why deceive yourself? Just watch if you want to.

A surge of courage welled up within her, urging her to walk forward, finally stopping by the bedside and sitting down in a chair.

Duan Fufeng's face was right in front of her now, just like when they first met in Zhoujia Village many years ago. He was riding a horse, looking like a celestial being.

The villagers of Zhoujia Village failed to capture his attention, and nothing about them held any appeal for him. He spurred his horse and galloped all the way up the towering dam, leaving behind only a unique and unparalleled silhouette. But the horse's hooves pounded into her heart, an image she could never forget.

At that time, however, he had piercing eyes and was full of vigor.

Now, however, he lies motionless on the soft bed, his loose black hair covering the pillow, highlighting his fair and flawless face.

As if possessed, Wutong reached out and brushed her hand across his eyebrows and eyelashes. The slightly stiff eyelashes poked her fingers, and she felt the familiar warmth beneath her palm.

He's still here.

The anxiety that had been hanging over her throughout the battlefield finally subsided, and she breathed a sigh of relief, though her nose felt a little sore.