Too many female prisoners, a special forces soldier transmigrates and marries wildly.

In the southwest corner of Shuofeng City, the lights in the scout headquarters remained on all night.

"Captain," the old clerk in charge of organizing pushed up his glasses and pointed to a new clue.

"Zhang's Blacksmith Shop in the West Market appears to forge farm tools, but an undercover agent discovered that a dull knocking sound often emanates from its backyard at midnight, unlike ordinary blacksmithing. Furthermore, the goods transported out are labeled as 'scrap iron,' but the packaging is heavy and well-organized. The blacksmith shop owner, Zhang Kui, is originally from Jingzhou and is related to Liu, the head of the Xinglong Cart and Horse Company, by marriage."

"The 'Old Locust Tree' tavern in the south of the city," another capable young scout reported.

"All sorts of people often gather here, including city gate guards. The innkeeper is a widow known as Huai Niang, who seems to be an old acquaintance of Sun the Cripple from the South Gate's Bingzi team. There is a cellar in the backyard of the tavern, and access is strictly controlled. An undercover agent once saw masked men carrying long wooden boxes into the cellar late at night, which looked like... weapon cases."

Lin Feng traced the locations of "Zhang's Blacksmith Shop" and "Old Locust Tree Tavern" on the map, then connected them to "Xinglong Carriage and Horse Shop" and "Yuelai Inn," finally pointing to the west and south city gates. A dark network, using the southwest city as its stage and connecting smuggling, infiltration, and potential sabotage, was gradually taking shape.

Blacksmith shops might illegally forge or modify weapons, taverns could serve as communication points, carriage shops handled transportation, inns provided cover and shelter, and the mole among the city gate guards facilitated all of this. The objective was clear—to deliver a fatal blow to the Di Rong surprise attack outside the city at a crucial moment!

"Keep a close eye on them, but maintain a relaxed exterior while remaining vigilant underneath. Absolutely do not alert them," Lin Feng said in a cold voice. "Especially in the next two days, when the Di Rong makes unusual moves in Black Wind Valley, these demons and monsters within the city will surely respond. What we need to wait for is the moment they make their move!"

……

The courtyard on Xihou Street fell silent in the twilight.

Xiao Qingli sat listlessly by the window, the thorny embroidery on the hoop in her hand already mostly finished.

But her heart was far from calm. The rumors she'd heard at the market during the day, and the fleeting glimpse of the wounded figure at the city gate, kept searing her thoughts.

"Bang—!"

Suddenly, a heavy thud was heard outside the courtyard wall, followed by several low, rude curses and disordered footsteps.

Xiao Qingli was startled; the needle tip almost pricked her finger. She quietly got up and leaned closer to the door to listen carefully.

"...Damn it, this lousy road...the box is so heavy, be careful!" a rough voice complained.

"Stop talking nonsense! Hurry up and move it! Get it to the back door of 'Zhang's' before curfew. Huai Niang is waiting to inspect the goods!" another slightly shrill voice urged.

"Zhang Ji?" Xiao Qingli's mind stirred slightly.

There were people with the surname Zhang around here, but they didn't seem to be blacksmiths. She remembered that a few days ago when she went to the West Market to buy embroidery thread, she seemed to have passed by a "Zhang's Blacksmith Shop". The storefront was not big, but she always felt that something was off. In broad daylight, the door was often ajar.

"Is this thing really going to work? I hope it doesn't fail me..." the rough voice muttered again.

"Shut up! If you want to die, don't drag me down with you! Hurry up!" A sharp voice interrupted, and the sound of footsteps and heavy objects being dragged quickly faded away, seemingly heading towards the West Market.

Xiao Qingli listened intently until it was completely quiet outside.

Curfew? There's still more than an hour before the curfew at 7 PM. What kind of goods are being delivered so furtively, before curfew? And is the goods being inspected?

"Misfire"? Does that mean... gunpowder? She was startled by the thought that flashed through her mind.

In Shuofeng City, the private possession of gunpowder is strictly prohibited; it is a capital offense.

Zhang's Blacksmith Shop... Huai Niang... She tried hard to recall. During the day at the market, she seemed to have overheard people chatting about Huai Niang from "Old Locust Tree Tavern." She was a shrewd and resourceful widow who did a good job in business and had connections with all sorts of people.

Could it be... that these rumors in the marketplace conceal a hidden danger? Those fragmented discussions—"Commander Lin is investigating Di Rong spies," "The south gate of the west city is under strict inspection," "There are suspicious people wandering in the southwest"—now intertwined with the whispers outside the wall, the blacksmith shop, the tavern owner, and other fragments from earlier, casting a heavy shadow in her heart.

She was just an orphan girl who wanted to escape her past and eke out a living; she shouldn't, and couldn't, get involved in these terrible things.

But the image of the wounded figure patrolling the city gate stubbornly lingered in his mind. Was this what he was investigating? Could those "sneaky people" be the Di Rong mole he was looking for? Could the "sunken boxes" they were rushing to transport before curfew be dangerous objects used to deal with Shuofeng City and to deal with him?

My heart suddenly clenched.

A nameless fear gripped her, not for herself, but for the person she had only met a few times who had thrown stones into her stagnant life.

What should she do? Pretend she doesn't know and continue hiding in this courtyard, praying that the war won't reach here? But what if those people really are spies, really wanting to harm Shuofeng City and Lin Feng?

She couldn't go to him; she couldn't expose herself. But could she just stand by and do nothing?

On one hand, there is the instinct to survive and the desire to stay away from trouble; on the other hand, there is the inexplicable concern in one's heart, the vague sense of crisis that may concern the lives of countless people, and... a faint impulse that one may not even want to admit to oneself, to want to do something, to want to get a little closer to that person's world.

Finally, she walked back to the table.

She found a small piece of plain white, rough-textured silk. She bit her fingertip, squeezed it gently, and a bead of blood seeped out.

With trembling fingertips, using the drop of blood, she slowly and lightly drew a few simple symbols on the plain silk—not words, but simple diagrams she had created as a child while playing with her mother, symbols only they could understand. A crooked house (representing a blacksmith's shop?), a tree beside it (representing a tavern?), several blurry dots under the tree (representing a gathered group of people?), then an arrow pointing west, at the end of which was a small, burning flame. Next to the flame was a simple moon, with a horizontal line below it (representing midnight?).

She drew slowly and carefully, each stroke like walking on a knife's edge. After finishing, she stared blankly at the blood-stained, ambiguous pattern, her mind a complete blank. What was this? A madman's doodle? Or an absurd warning from a helpless orphan? Even if this silk cloth could reach Lin Feng, would he understand it? Would he believe it?

But this was the only way she could think of to send a warning without exposing herself.

Where should she send it? How can she let him see it?

Xiao Qingli looked around the small, empty room except for herself, her gaze falling on the neatly stacked, unsold embroidery in the corner. On top of it was a simple orchid handkerchief she had embroidered a few days ago, which she planned to send to the embroidery shop for consignment the next day.

A thought, like a spark in the darkness, suddenly flashed into view.

She carefully folded the blood-stained plain silk into a tiny piece, then took out a very ordinary plain wooden button from the embroidery basket, which was used to make a frog button. She stuffed the folded plain silk into the gap on the back of the wooden button, and then sewed the wooden button onto an inconspicuous corner of the handkerchief, making it look like a decorative button on the handkerchief itself.

Tomorrow, as usual, I'll deliver it to that familiar embroidery shop in the West Market. The shop owner will buy her embroidery and resell it to shops in the city, perhaps even… to some military officers' families. Lin Feng is a captain; perhaps… one of his colleagues, one of his subordinates, will buy this handkerchief? Perhaps, the shop owner will mention, in casual conversation, that orphaned girl on West Back Street with her excellent embroidery skills? Perhaps… there's even a one in a billion chance that this handkerchief will eventually end up in his hands?

This hope was as faint as a candle flame in the wind. But it was all she could do. The boldest, yet most desperate, attempt a young orphan could make, under the dual pressure of the shadow of war and her own secret.

She carefully put the handkerchief away, placing it together with the unfinished thorn embroidery frame.

She blew out the light and lay down fully clothed. In the darkness, she lay awake, listening to her own rapid heartbeat and the distant footsteps of the night patrolling soldiers.