Chapter Five: Petition in the Tent—A Tortured Heart Torn Between Love and Hate

Approaching the border camp, Li Chengyin took a deep breath before slowly stepping inside.

Within the tent, the atmosphere was so heavy it seemed to drip with tension. The King of Xizhou sat upright, his gaze like a sharp arrow piercing straight at Li Chengyin, who had just entered. With furious eyes, he scolded harshly:

“Li Chengyin, how dare you show your face here?”

Li Chengyin’s heart tightened, yet without hesitation, he dropped to one knee. Though his posture was humble, his voice carried sincerity and resolve:

“King of Xizhou, I know the tragedy of Danchi has caused you unbearable pain. It is a sin I can never erase in my lifetime. But my feelings for Xiaofeng are true, witnessed by heaven and earth, and have never wavered. I do not come here expecting your easy forgiveness, only to do all I can to make amends. If war breaks out between our two nations, the border people will suffer immensely—I cannot bear to see that. I only hope to use my strength to bring peace between our countries and spare the people from the horrors of war.”

The King of Xizhou snorted coldly, his voice dripping with disdain and sarcasm:

“Do you think mere words can atone for the blood feud of Danchi? Do you even comprehend how many lives were lost, how many families shattered?”

At that moment, Xiaofeng hurriedly arrived at the border upon hearing the news. As she stepped into the tent, her gaze instinctively fixed on Li Chengyin kneeling on the ground. Her heart churned wildly, a flood of past love, hatred, and grievances crashing through her mind.

That hatred was like a sharp thorn, deeply embedded in her heart—the tragic fate of her father, the destruction of Danchi, all nightmares forged by Li Chengyin’s own hand. She had sworn countless times that she would never share this life with him.

Yet now, looking at his humble, kneeling figure, a flicker of pain and inner struggle flashed across her eyes—an unspoken care that even startled herself.

Within her, a fierce battle raged. On one side, the flames of hatred burned fiercely, threatening to consume her. She recalled her father collapsing in a pool of blood—a wound that would never heal. Whenever she thought of it, she wished to see Li Chengyin torn apart.

Her hand clenched involuntarily, nails digging deep into her palm, as if only through pain could she ease the torment and fury within.

But on the other side, Li Chengyin’s words struck a heavy blow to her conscience. She knew all too well the cruelty of war—if their nations clashed, countless innocent lives would be engulfed in flames and bloodshed. She could almost see the border villages burning, the people fleeing in terror and wailing, children orphaned, elders displaced. These visions stabbed at her heart like knives, making it impossible to completely shut out Li Chengyin’s plea for peace.

“Father,” Xiaofeng’s lips parted softly, her voice trembling slightly as she fought to suppress the turmoil inside, “if war breaks out between our countries, the innocent will be the onesI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.