By the end of the hour of You, the rain poured down in torrents.
The dark, murky sky was torn open by lightning; a burst of fierce light suddenly flashed, illuminating the curtain of rain into a sheet of stark white. Rain crashed against the eaves in a clattering racket; a flowerpot in the courtyard, perhaps not set steady, was swept up by the wind and shattered on the ground with a “pah.”
Huayue had grown up and was no longer as afraid of thunder as she’d been as a child, but sitting now by the table watching the flower-patterned window flicker light and dark, she felt uneasy, her fingers curling, her face tense.
Another crack of lightning threw the shadow of the tree in the courtyard onto the window paper; she glanced at it without thinking, and saw what looked like several human shadows beneath that tree.
Just an instant, and the sky darkened again; both the tree’s shadow and the human shadows sank back into darkness. Rainwater splashed on the windowsill, the damp scent of earth filling her nose, and something was creeping this way under cover of the night, rustling softly.
Her knuckles went white, her whole body turning cold; Huayue dared not make a sound, glanced left and right, and, stepping on the table, silently climbed up onto the roof beam.
The moment she’d gathered her skirt hem, a blade slipped in through the door crack, its bright edge lifting the door bolt from below; the main door was suddenly blown open by a wild gust, slamming against both sides with a “bang.”
Her pupils constricted; Huayue reached up and covered her own mouth.
This separate residence she’d come to wasn’t easy for people to find, but by the same token, once found, no one could save her either.
Several figures in straw raincoats entered through the door, searching about everywhere, their soaked boots leaving a trail of sticky wet footprints on the floor. These men all held short swords, their raincoats swaying as they walked, brass waist tokens flashing past.
They were Zhou Heshuo’s men.
These men’s martial skill was extremely high; last time when they’d come to the General’s Residence to seize her, she hadn’t even had the chance to cry out once.
Glancing sideways toward the window, dark light flickered in Huayue’s eyes.
After searching through the cabinets and under the bed, Xue Ji finally spoke: “The door’s locked—she must be in here. There’s nowhere to run either way. Better to come out sooner, to avoid getting hurt once we start.”
No response came from within the room; Xue Ji narrowed his eyes and looked around.
“My lord.” One of the guards beside him said quietly, “The window doesn’t seem to be bolted.”
Xue Ji went over; a fingertip pressed against it, and the flower window swung open. He glanced outside, then led the men climbing out through it.
Her heart pounding rapidly, Huayue watched for a moment, and seeing they showed no sign of returning right away, immediately hooked herself off the beam and dropped to the floor, darting swiftly toward the door.
A tall shadow abruptly appeared in the doorway, blocking her path squarely.
“Truly formidable.” Xue Ji looked down at her, step by step forcing her back into the room, his gaze dark. “I knew it—that pitiful, delicate look last time must have been an act. Someone who’s tried two or three times to escape from under my hand couldn’t possibly be some weak, gentle creature.”
Her breath caught; Huayue kept backing away, her pale little face raised, smiling at him innocently: “My lord, is there perhaps some misunderstanding?”
“That look of yours might fool His Highness, but it won’t fool me.” Xue Ji sneered, the scar on the side of his face looking especially menacing. “I’ve caught all kinds of people. This act of playing the pig to eat the tiger doesn’t work on me.”
With that, he grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her back to bind it with rope.
Huayue winced in pain, fine sweat beading on her forehead, struggling as she said, “I truly don’t know anything.”
Xue Ji didn’t believe this at all: “If you had nothing to hide, why would you have hidden away here from the General’s Residence?”
“My lord misunderstands.” She lowered her head, looking wronged, toward her own belly. “I didn’t hide away—I came here to nurse a pregnancy, that’s all.”
“……” Xue Ji eyed her suspiciously.
Earlier at Guanshan there had indeed been rumors of a maid by the Third Young Master’s side rising to prominence through pregnancy; these words might carry some credibility. But she was the last person Zhuo An had seen before changing his testimony, making her highly likely to have ties to the former dynasty—bringing her back for investigation could turn up something, and would be a great achievement.
After only a moment’s hesitation, Xue Ji waved his hand.
The guard behind him shoved her hard out the door; she stumbled a couple steps and stood in the curtain of rain, instantly soaked through.
Spitting water and gasping for breath, Huayue lowered her eyes in despair.
Rain could wash away everything; after tonight, no trace would be left in this courtyard at all. Even if Li Jingyun wanted to find her, he probably wouldn’t be able to.
Wind cut against her soaked clothes, cold against her very bones.
“My lord.” Enduring the rain, Huayue asked one last question. “The Crown Prince and the Third Young Master get along fairly well, don’t they? If you truly harm this child in my belly, aren’t you afraid the Third Young Master will settle scores with you?”
“Third Young Master?” Xue Ji scoffed. “In this pouring rain, he’s surely holding some beauty close at Qifeng Tower, enjoying himself—how could he spare a thought for you. By the time he finds you missing, it won’t occur to him to come looking for me either.”
That did seem likely; she sighed and gave up struggling.
The raincoat kept dripping water in the rain; Xue Ji, thoroughly annoyed by this weather, tossed his short sword up and caught it idly as he stepped through the moon gate.
“Women are just vain creatures. Marry some ordinary family and nothing would happen at all, yet they insist on throwing themselves at the powerful and prominent—not even knowing how they’ll end up dead.”
Green vines hung over the moon gate, long untended, dangling in a tangled mess; as he passed through, one caught the edge of his rain hat.
Muttering irritably, he flipped his short sword to cut it away.
But the instant the blade touched the vine, from among the layered tendrils a hand suddenly shot out, striking the side of his wrist; amid the scattering raindrops he cleanly disarmed him of his blade, and with a reverse motion stabbed straight at his throat.
“Pfft—”
Something thick and metallic-scented sprayed out into the rain, too fast for anyone to react.
Xue Ji’s eyes went wide, his blank, dazed pupils reflecting a black bamboo hat. Rain beat against the brim of the hat, splashing clear and cold; the hat slowly tilted up, revealing a strikingly handsome jawline, and a pair of eyes black as ink.
“Do you know how you’re dying?” The man asked with a light laugh.
The guards behind him, jolted from their daze, drew their swords and rushed forward one after another; Xue Ji clutched his own throat in terror, wanting to say something, but his body convulsed and collapsed.
Bright red blood mingled thread by thread into the rain; he wanted to press his hand to it but couldn’t quite manage, his eyes bulging wide, staring upward unwillingly, only to see a soft sword flying out from that man’s sleeve like a silver serpent.
The Crown Prince’s guards were of unfathomable martial skill, which was precisely why His Highness could rest easy—no petty threat dared trespass against him.
And yet right now, these six or seven hand-picked guards fell utterly helpless before this one man’s hands; the glowing soft sword swept past through the rain, and when the men fell, they hadn’t even understood where their wounds were.
One quick-witted guard, seeing the situation was hopeless, tried to flee to report back, but the man moved like a specter, catching up soundlessly in a blink, slicing open his throat from behind, not even a ripple stirring beneath his feet.
Just before dying, Xue Ji finally understood.
“It’s… you…”
His Highness hadn’t been wrong to suspect—it truly was him, the one who’d stormed the East Palace before and rescued Han Shuang.
The Third Young Master of the General’s Residence, Li Jingyun.
Another bolt of lightning split the sky; Li Jingyun looked up, his handsome profile carrying killing intent under the flashing light. He looked down at Xue Ji, half sighing, half lamenting: “Are you wondering, aren’t I afraid the Crown Prince will settle scores with me?”
Xue Ji glared at him fixedly, the whites of his eyes nearly bulging out.
Slowly lowering his body, he curled his lips and pushed the short sword lodged in his throat in another inch, mimicking his tone: “In this pouring rain, His Highness is surely holding some beauty close in the palace, enjoying himself—how could he spare a thought for you. By the time he finds you missing, it won’t occur to him to come looking for me either.”
A rush of blood surged up; Xue Ji glared at him with bitter hatred, dying with eyes wide open.
Pulling the man’s rain hat down to cover his face, Li Jingyun stood, turned, and looked back toward the person standing behind him.
Yin Huayue stared at him in a daze, her small face deathly pale, standing there trembling like a soaked reed.
His expression softening, he sheathed his soft sword and walked over in large strides, placing his own bamboo hat on her head, then gently patting her back: “Breathe.”
Coughing once from the force of his pat, Huayue began to breathe in large gulps of air. Her head was too small; the bamboo hat couldn’t stay put, tilting down to cover half her face.
She reached up in a fluster to push the hat back into place, then raised her head to speak, but before she could, a sharp pain suddenly bloomed on her lips.
Using his forehead to hold the hat’s brim in place for her, he lowered his head and bit her without a word of explanation, neither too light nor too heavy, leaving a faint pale mark on her lips that vanished in the blink of an eye.
“Made this lord search hard for you.” His low, hoarse voice carried a hint of anger, and an almost imperceptible tremor.
Her eyes softened; she reached out to grab his sleeve, just about to speak, when he kissed her again.
The cool scent of rain, mingled with the ragged gasps that came right after killing, surged in without restraint, scattering all her thoughts.
Her waist locked tight in his hold, the rain now blocked from her, that panicked, uneasy heart of hers finally seemed to settle back into place, and in this place strewn with blood beneath the pouring rain, she suddenly found a sense of solid ground beneath her feet.
Blinking slowly, Huayue tightened her grip on his robe.
Li Jingyun paused, then his motions grew even more forceful, pressing against the back of her head as if trying to fold her into his very bones.
The rain grew heavier and heavier, but somehow it no longer felt as bleak and terrifying as before.
Huayue sat in the room, rainwater still dripping down along her skirt hem. She looked uneasily toward the window and asked softly, “So many bodies—what if someone finds them?”
Li Jingyun removed his outer robe, reaching over to untie her sash: “They won’t be found. If it weren’t for the driver at the residence selling out the information, they wouldn’t have found this place at all.”
The driver? Huayue thought back for a moment, her face darkening.
All the servants of the residence were under her management—this was a case of her own poor judgment.
Just as anger began to rise, her forehead was flicked.
“Not confessing your wrongdoing to this lord, getting mad at yourself instead?” The man before her had eyes dark as ink, darker even than the clouds outside. “Do you know how much effort this lord went to, to find you?”
Guilty, Huayue lowered her head and pressed a hand to her own sash: “This concubine had no choice either.”
“You had no choice? You’re just stupid.” He pried her hand away, pulling her over with obvious irritation. “Don’t move.”
Torn between laughter and tears, she said, “Young Master wants to get close to this concubine again.”
“Getting close to a pig makes you stupid too—no way this lord wants to get close to you.” He gave a cold snort, and, disdainful, stripped off her soaked skirt and tossed it to the floor, then pulled over the bedding, wrapping her cold body entirely in it, holding her close from outside the wrap.
“You need to understand something—the safest place in this world is right by this lord’s side. Wherever you flee to won’t do as well as coming to cry for help from this lord.” He rested his chin on her shoulder, half-lidded eyes gazing down.
Huayue nodded in complete agreement, then asked, “Were you at the residence today?”
“……” Somewhat uncomfortable, Li Jingyun gave a light cough. “This lord’s not saying he never left.”
The person in his arms smiled, wrapped in the blanket, yawning, showing no sign of asking where he’d gone, only pulling his hand over and, using the discarded robe, wiping the blood from between his fingers bit by bit.
“You seem quite afraid of blood.” He lowered his eyes to look at her, his other hand smoothing her half-dry hair. “Last time on the mountain, you said once you’d seen it once you wouldn’t be afraid anymore. Looking at you today, though, you still hardly dared to breathe.”
She gave a soft, noncommittal sound, not explaining further, wanting to just let it pass.
But somehow the man behind her suddenly grew interested in this, half-embracing her as he asked, “What experiences have you had before?”
“None.” Somewhat uncomfortable, Huayue shifted, turning her face to one side.
Her faintly reddening earlobe gave away her lie; Li Jingyun watched silently, then rubbed his chin gently against the side of her neck.
“Itchy.” She frowned.
“This lord fished your little life back from the brink—can’t you bear a little itch?” He caught the back of her neck. “Don’t move away.”
This was said with such righteous confidence that Huayue, after mulling it over for a good while, still couldn’t find a way to refute it, and could only let him hold her.
Once she quieted down, her senses grew especially sharp; she seemed to notice his arms around her were trembling slightly, like a natural reaction after extreme tension suddenly releasing—not very obvious, but the tremor made something inside her soften along with it.
“Young Master.” She began hesitantly, her eyes flicking back at him. “If you hadn’t made it in time to save this concubine today, would you have been sad?”
The arms around her tightened; then he bit down hard on the side of her neck: “What do you think?”
Her eyes brightened slightly; she pressed her lips together and tried again, tentatively: “Not the kind of sad you feel for a dog you’ve raised for years that dies—but… would you plant a loquat tree for this concubine, the kind of sad where years later, seeing the tree, you’d still think of this concubine?”
Li Jingyun: “……”
He reached out and touched her forehead, murmuring, “Too much time in the rain—no wonder your head’s aching. Where else feels unwell?”
Loquat tree, indeed—wouldn’t it be better if he had that kind of free time and used it to rescue her sooner instead?
The person before him sullenly turned her face away, as if disappointed about something. Li Jingyun had no idea what she was disappointed about; he simply found a cloth and rubbed her head vigorously until her dark hair dried, then carried her back to the bed.
The moment she touched the bed, Huayue rolled straight to the innermost side, pressing against the wall, back to him. Both annoyed and amused, he leaned over her and bit down on her shoulder: “Ungrateful for kindness received, and kicking up a fuss at this lord besides—were you born in the year of the donkey?”
Huayue winced in pain but didn’t struggle, gritting her teeth and saying in a muffled voice, “I’m sleepy.”
“Not yet—tell this lord why the Crown Prince’s men came after you.” He said in a low voice. “Otherwise there’ll be more coming next time.”
Turning over, Huayue said seriously, “Isn’t it all because of the former dynasty’s affairs? It’s just that the Crown Prince worries too much—Great Wei fell many years ago; his real opponents now should clearly be the Central Palace and the Princess Imperial fighting for power, yet he insists on making trouble for a group of people who have nothing left at all.”
Li Jingyun lay down beside her, hands cushioned behind his head, scoffing: “No wonder they say you’re stupid—do you really think Great Wei being gone means it’s truly gone?”
She turned her head, puzzled, to look at him.
Letting out a light sigh, Li Jingyun said, “The Liang dynasty was founded through invasion, so naturally its people number fewer than Wei’s. Right now, more than half the former Wei ministers remain in court, and there are still Wei people scattered throughout the palace. If it weren’t for the fact that the entire main branch of the Yin clan was wiped out, with no bloodline remaining, how could His Highness the Crown Prince sleep soundly all these years.”
“There were rumors circulating among the common folk before, that though the First Prince of Yin died, he’d left behind an imperial bloodline and the seal of the previous emperor. For this, the Crown Prince slaughtered over a hundred innocents, searching everywhere without result. Then during the spring hunt he happened to run into Chang Gui seeking revenge, and his hatred for Wei people has only deepened since.”
Li Jingyun glanced sideways, meeting her thoughtful gaze, and smiled faintly: “If it were just an ordinary Wei person, keeping your life wouldn’t be hard. But if you had ties to the former Wei imperial house, that would be an entirely different matter.”
Her lashes trembled; Huayue quickly lowered her eyes, saying softly, “The former Wei imperial family died to the last one—what ties could there possibly be.”
“Not necessarily.” He said lazily. “This lord heard the former Wei emperor had an illegitimate daughter—born at the hour of Chen on the tenth day of the tenth month in the Yuande era under the earth sign—no one knows where she ended up.”
Her whole body stiffened; Huayue pulled the bedding up to cover half her face, her fingertips turning icy cold.
How did he know about this?
The former Wei emperor’s daughter had been declared inauspicious by the Grand Preceptor even while still in the womb—unable to be entered into the imperial genealogy, unable to hold any formal title, raised in the West Palace, never once permitted to call anyone father-emperor or mother-empress. The attendants who served her were only allowed to address her as “Little Mistress of the West Palace”; even Yin Ninghuai had never once called her sister.
She’d thought this secret would be buried along with the collapse of Great Wei; once she’d avenged herself, she could vanish without a trace.
Yet who would have thought that on a rainy night like this, she’d hear it from the mouth of the very person beside her, spoken as lightly and casually as idle chatter after a meal.
Her fingers trembled uncontrollably; Huayue bit down on her nail, a taut string drawn tight in her mind.
Li Jingyun continued: “If such a person truly exists, and His Highness the Crown Prince finds her, she’d surely die a death with no whole body left.”
He said this quite casually, his tone rising slightly at the end.
Yet the person beside him, listening, dared not move at all, a chill radiating from her body that soaked into the bedding, leaving even him feeling a touch of cold.
Giving a soft laugh, Li Jingyun reached out and took hold of her fingers gripping the blanket.
Cold as ice to the touch.
“How did you get this cold.” His expression shifted slightly; he took both her hands and cupped them in his own, raising his eyes to scold her, “What are you thinking about?”
Drawing a little warmth from him with some difficulty, she forced a smile: “This concubine was just thinking, if Young Master knows this news, how could the Crown Prince not?”
The man before her curled his lip somewhat disdainfully: “This lord knows far more than the Crown Prince. Most of that intelligence network at the East Palace, this lord is the one who’s been feeding them information.”
“Then…” Her fingertips shifted; she asked in a low voice, “Would you give this piece of news to the Crown Prince too?”
The corner of his eye twitched; Li Jingyun studied her intently: “You seem quite concerned about this matter.”
“No.” She denied it quickly, then after a moment’s thought, her body softly pressed closer to him. “This concubine is just curious.”
The body beneath the blanket wasn’t even wearing an undergarment, pressing close like this, its lines smooth, soft, and warm.
Drawing a sharp breath, Li Jingyun secretly gritted his teeth, thinking that whoever said Steward Yin was cold and aloof clearly hadn’t seen this—she was quite unhesitating when it came to using the beauty stratagem too. If she’d just honestly confessed to him, nothing would have happened, yet she insisted on taking this crooked path instead.
Was he the type of man to bow before beauty—
He was.
His gaze sweeping deeply over her bright eyes, Li Jingyun fell silent for a moment, then shamelessly reached up and pointed at his own lips: “It’s a little dry here.”
Huayue paused, then, sensibly enough, gripped his shoulder and pulled herself up, pressing a quick smacking kiss on his lips.
This didn’t seem to satisfy him; he glared at her with a hint of disdain in his eyes.
With a guilty little smile, Huayue hesitated, gripping his shoulder, then leaned in again, this time grinding a slow kiss against his lips, her tongue tip tentatively exploring before quickly withdrawing.
“Fine, this lord won’t tell anyone.” His grip on her waist tightening, Li Jingyun stared at her glistening lips, his voice hoarse, as he leaned in to press against her again.
Huayue quickly pressed a hand against his chest to hold him back, saying with a hint of panic, “You’re tired today too, Young Master—let’s rest first.”
Resistance and fear conveyed clearly from her eyes. She looked quite tense, as if afraid of offending him, and after saying this, smiled at him again, offering two curved crescent-moon smiles as if to make up for it.
Li Jingyun startled, suddenly recalling what she’d said about “knowing proper bounds,” and the fire that had been burning in him instantly extinguished by more than half.
Yin Huayue hadn’t lied—no matter how far he got carried away, she was still someone who knew her bounds. She could kiss, could embrace, could even joke about thinking of him, but she would never let him cross the line.
Li Jingyun suddenly realized that if it weren’t for the layer of status pressing down on her, toward him she’d probably be just as cold, indifferent, and distant as she was toward everyone else.
This realization instantly soured his mood.
Lying down silently, he pulled the bedding over himself and said in a low voice, “Sleep.”
“Sweet dreams, Young Master.” The person behind him said, letting out a quiet breath of relief.
Dealing with him seemed to be quite a strain for her, Li Jingyun thought coldly; being intimate with him probably left her with no good thoughts in her heart either.
Still, since she’d fallen into his hands, he wasn’t about to let her go. If she was unhappy, she could just bear it—it wasn’t as if he’d feel bad about it.
Falling asleep in a stifled mood, Li Jingyun had a night full of nightmares.
In the dream, Yin Huayue was walking with Shen Zhiluo into some enormous cosmic compass, waving back at him as she went: “Young Master, no need to see me off. Until we meet again.”
See her off? He’d catch her and thrash her within an inch of her life.
Thrash Shen Zhiluo within an inch of his life.
……
“Achoo—” Sneezing inexplicably, Shen Zhiluo looked at the skirt hem drifting past before him, heavy with powder and thick perfume.
Raising his sleeve in disdain to cover his nose, he frowned and asked, “How much longer do you plan to play around?”
Su Miao lay sprawled to one side drinking; her tolerance for alcohol seemed excellent, having emptied two small jars without so much as flushing. Leaning against the table, she glanced sideways at him, her eyes seductive as silk: “If Lord Shen is busy, feel free to go ahead.”
Go ahead, and leave her here in this den of mixed dragons and snakes?
Shen Zhiluo laughed in exasperation, lowering his sleeve, his voice turning cold: “I have no objection to Miss Su indulging herself, but carrying the title of this humble one’s betrothed while carousing about like this outside doesn’t seem quite fitting.”