In that instant, a string of possibilities flashed through Huayue’s mind — serve as my spy within the General’s household, give yourself to me and abandon all propriety, hand over your most precious possession as exchange — her eyes widening slowly as she pressed herself against the wooden lattice of the partition, watching him warily.
Instead, Zhou Hemin said, “Whenever you’re free, tell me about your life before you became a servant at the General’s household.”
Huayue blinked, hardly able to believe it. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” He rose to leave, sweeping his sleeve. “That’s the most interesting thing there is.”
His tall figure melted into the dazzling light outside, carrying a touch of unrestrained ease. Huayue followed after him, thinking that this was hardly the demeanor of a fifteen-year-old — more like some fifty-year-old sage beyond the mortal world, someone who only saw things as interesting or dull, never bothering with gains and losses.
Li Jingyun had moved fast; there was no catching up by carriage. Huayue brought a horse for Zhou Hemin, and without waiting for further discussion, mounted her own horse first and rode off ahead.
Actually, having heard about the situation at Qifeng Tower, she understood that Li Jingyun wasn’t some helpless young master — even in danger, he should be able to handle himself. Her going after him now was rather unnecessary, and might even earn her his annoyance.
And yet, even as her mind thought this, her hand cracked the riding whip all the faster. Standing in the stirrups, eyes fixed straight ahead, she silently prayed that nothing would go wrong.
Riding on the main streets of Jinghua wasn’t permitted, so Li Jingyun dismounted near Luohua Street and strode toward Qifeng Tower, sweeping his robes aside.
Ordinarily, the area around Luohua Street was bustling with activity, but today, at a glance, only a few dozen people wandered about here and there. He’d walked a short distance when he suddenly sensed something was off.
None of these people were looking his way, and yet as he scanned the surroundings, he felt countless eyes fixed upon him.
A flute sounded from behind him, unbidden, its clear, faint notes winding through several turns and spreading across half the street. Li Jingyun paused, his gaze sweeping past the common folk eating noodles and steamed buns on either side of the street, lips curling faintly as he began, without any obvious movement, to step back.
The moment his heel touched down behind him, the surroundings erupted into chaos.
The imperial household had always favored raising death squads, and Great Liang’s was no exception — these people were selected from childhood into secret offices, unremarkable in appearance yet vicious in strike. Even dressed in the plain robes of ordinary young women, the blade in their hand might slit a throat the very next instant.
Li Jingyun tilted his head to dodge a blade, then let out a sudden laugh. It had been two years since he’d been caught brawling in the streets by his father — he hadn’t had a chance to fight here since. Seeing this scene again, he felt an unexpected wave of nostalgia.
“Killing people without even announcing yourselves?” He wrenched a dagger from one attacker’s grip, tossed it into the air, caught it with a flourish, and held it sharply level before the death soldier charging at him, his tone light despite the gleaming blade. “Not the least bit of manners.”
The attacker’s pupils constricted, striking backward at his neck. He dodged, and the rest of the death soldiers swarmed forward at once, clearly having no intention of engaging him one-on-one — planning instead to overwhelm him with numbers and take his head then and there.
Li Jingyun felt a headache coming on. Twirling the dagger in his grip, he sighed up at the sky. “Everyone I run into today seems to have no sense of reason at all.”
White clouds drifted across the sun overhead, sunlight faint and pale, a breeze passing through — and suddenly carrying a whiff of blood.
The death soldiers had been lying in ambush here from the start. Their leader wore a bronze-cast mask, two narrow eye slits revealing a bloodthirsty gleam.
Everyone knew the third young master of the Li family had some skill with a blade, and he’d naturally come prepared — several dozen men taking turns, even if a few fell at the front, he’d eventually tire toward the end. This was the strategy of ants overwhelming an elephant.
But what he hadn’t expected was that the man before him struck with astonishing speed. Seven or eight men had their throats slit before they even had time to react, blood spraying through the air.
Li Jingyun’s methods were genuinely ruthless — the red blade going in, the white blade coming out, without so much as a blink, the sound of steel cutting through flesh and bone enough to numb the ear. But even after this, showing not a trace of fatigue, the crowd should have kept pressing forward. Instead, they hesitated — and worse, his eyes only grew brighter.
Wiping the blood off his face, he turned and waved toward a hesitant figure in the crowd. “Come try your luck. Maybe you’ll be the one.”
The death soldier: “…”
Killing the spirit before killing the body.
What made death soldiers strong was their conviction and fearlessness — and yet that very thing was being plucked out and ground into dust right before their eyes.
Their leader watched in silence, seeing fear on his own men’s faces for the first time. Several dozen men, surrounding him on all sides, and not a single one dared step forward.
“What are you all afraid of?” He couldn’t help but call out. “The prey’s already at his limit — all he’s got left is some mouth skill. Get him.”
A few exchanged glances, hesitating.
Li Jingyun was still smiling, leaning against the wall of a roadside shop, his laugh carelessly easy. Discreetly, he folded the now-blunted soft sword into his sleeve, lifting his chin. “Come on, then.”
Like Zhong Kui the demon-queller risen from the underworld, arms open in mock welcome.
Who would dare come now?
The crowd retreated half a step in silent, unspoken agreement.
Their leader could tell the group’s morale had collapsed entirely. Gritting his teeth, he drew his own bow, arrow aimed straight at him. The arrow left the string, forcing Li Jingyun to dodge sideways, his silhouette wavering briefly. Delighted, the leader loosed another arrow while shouting, “He’s got nothing left! It’s all bluster!”
Emboldened, a few pressed forward again with swords raised. The leader nocked a long arrow, aiming straight for his heart.
This arrow wasn’t very accurate, its force insufficient. Li Jingyun watched it with disdain, his sapphire-blue sleeve lifting slightly, the koi embroidered on it seeming to leap to life.
But in the next instant, someone shot forward like lightning and threw themselves into his arms, holding up a broken wooden board found from who-knows-where, deflecting the incoming arrow with a sharp crack. The arrowhead pierced through the board and stopped just short of her nose, and she flinched, her face turning white as paper.
Startled, Li Jingyun raised an eyebrow and looked down — and saw the very last person he wanted to see in the midst of this bloodshed and chaos.
“What are you doing here!”
Huayue had just moved the arrowhead aside when a thunderous roar erupted behind her. She flinched, turned to look at him, and, both angry and exasperated, shouted right back. “What else — I came to save you! This servant told you to bring more people before you left, and you wouldn’t listen, thinking you could take on all of Jinghua alone! Look at this — if I hadn’t gotten here in time, would you even still have a life to speak of!”
Li Jingyun grew even angrier. “What good could you possibly do coming here? Just handing over another life?”
“Who says so — isn’t this me saving the day?” She lifted the wooden board defiantly, nearly jabbing it into his face.
He slapped the broken board aside, breathing heavily, his eyes faintly red. “Get out of here.”
Even the best temper couldn’t withstand this kind of provocation. Huayue threw the board down and said coldly, “If you weren’t a master of the General’s household, this servant wouldn’t have bothered coming to save you at all.”
She turned to leave, but the death soldiers had already closed in, trapping the two of them together.
Grabbing her shoulder, Li Jingyun gritted his teeth, his voice hoarse against her ear. “If you die today, it’ll be because you were stupid enough to.”
“Could you not open your mouth every two sentences to curse someone into dying?” She frowned deeply.
“Given this scene, this one doesn’t think you’re here trying to survive at all,” he scoffed. “And you’re still afraid of a curse?”
“Young master misunderstands.” Huayue’s eyes flickered, and she stepped back, pressing against him, her voice soft. “This servant treasures her own life dearly.”
The moment her words fell, a swarm of death soldiers surged forward, the one in front raising his blade high, cutting down with the force of a gale. But at that same moment, the sound of hoofbeats broke through Luohua Street — Zhou Hemin, whip raised, charging his horse straight through the crowd, cracking his whip across the wrist of the man about to strike.
The long blade flew from his grip with a swish, and Li Jingyun caught it, turned his wrist, and drove it straight into the chest of the death soldier in front of him with a wet thunk.
Huayue hadn’t even had time to look up when everything went dark.
The man behind her had covered her eyes, his broad palm pressing thick and warm against her thin eyelids. Something splattered against the ground ahead, followed by the sound of a body falling.
She struggled slightly, wanting to look, but the man behind her held her still, letting out an impatient tsk, refusing to let her move.
The guards and death soldiers fought fiercely all around. Zhou Hemin looked over and saw Li Jingyun still standing in place, one hand gripping his blade, the other covering the eyes of the person in his arms, his blood-streaked face lifting to look toward him, expression indifferent.
After a moment, he gave a slight nod — an apparent gesture of thanks.
Zhou Hemin smiled, shook the reins in his hand, his eyes glinting as he mouthed something silently: I’m not here to save you.
He pointed toward the person in his arms, eyebrows raised, mouthing each word deliberately: I’m here to help her.
That face of Li Jingyun’s, in the blink of an eye, darkened right back into a scowl.
Dark clouds pressing down, thunder rolling.
Zhou Hemin burst out laughing, leaning over his horse’s neck, nearly falling off from how hard he laughed, the jade bell on his head jingling in rhythm with his shaking, his brocade boots swaying, his eyes brimming with delight.
The fight had been raging fiercely on that side when this brazen laughter suddenly rang out. The leader of the death soldiers, as if he’d spotted a treasure, abandoned his struggle with the guards and turned his blade straight toward the Fifth Prince instead.
“Watch out, my lord!” someone shouted. Zhou Hemin turned, yanking the reins to knock the attacker aside with his horse’s head. The startled steed reared with a long whinny, throwing him from the saddle.
“Your Highness!” Cries of alarm rose from all sides.
Sensing something wrong, Huayue quickly pulled Li Jingyun’s hand down from her eyes and looked, gripping his arm. “Young master, he absolutely cannot come to harm in front of us.”
Li Jingyun understood this well enough. However reluctant, he still rolled his eyes and stepped forward to help Zhou Hemin up.
The remaining death soldiers had already been mostly subdued by the guards. Seeing the situation turn against them, their leader spun around and fled. Li Jingyun had no intention of letting him go — kicking up a fallen long sword from the ground, he took off in pursuit.
The farther he chased, the more crowded Luohua Street became. The pedestrians who had vanished entirely moments before now seemed to have all returned. Amid the sea of heads, Li Jingyun kept his eyes locked on the tan-colored long robe the leader wore, chasing him into a narrow alley.
Sounds of women chatting and laughing came from within the alley. Sensing trouble, he closed the distance in two or three strides and slashed the man’s throat with a single stroke. His movement was clean and precise, barely making a sound — he’d meant to drag the man away without alarming any of the common folk.
Instead, a scream tore from a young woman in the alley, piercing straight up into the sky, instantly drawing a crowd.
“My lady, what happened?”
Li Jingyun turned back, rather helpless, and saw Han Shuang standing there with her attendants, her eyes fixed on the person in his arms, her lips drained entirely of color with shock.
“…”
What terrible timing.
The bruise on her neck hadn’t yet faded. Han Shuang clutched her handkerchief, her face full of fear, looking at him, then at the man he’d just killed, stammering, “Jingyun, why — why would you kill him?”
Explaining this was going to be troublesome. Li Jingyun shook his head, setting the body down. “We’ll talk about this some other time.”
Tears welling in her eyes, Han Shuang looked at the man on the ground. “But he’s the one the Grand Princess treasures most. Even you, Jingyun, shouldn’t have gone so far as this…”
The Grand Princess’s most treasured man? Li Jingyun frowned, baffled. “Isn’t this just a death soldier—”
The bronze mask had disappeared from his face somewhere along the way. Long Lin lay at his feet, blood gushing from his throat in pulse after pulse. He wasn’t dead yet — his eyes rolled upward, fixed unblinkingly on him.
As if satisfied by the shock he saw in those eyes, Long Lin smiled, his breath cutting off, his entire face frozen in that eerie, unsettling expression.
Li Jingyun went still.
Household guards and servants arrived behind Han Shuang, an entire crowd now watching him. Someone had already reported this to the authorities, and before long, officers from the Jinghua magistrate’s office arrived as well.
Amid the noise and chaos, understanding suddenly dawned on Li Jingyun.
Long Lin had planned this from the very start — even if he failed to kill him, he would still saddle him with the crime of murdering a royal favorite. The bronze mask discarded, dying before Han Shuang’s eyes, with no one able to prove he’d been a death soldier just moments before, no one knowing this had been him apprehending an assassin. All anyone could see now was the blood on his hand and the cold corpse on the ground.
Brilliant. Truly, brilliantly done.
Li Jingyun looked up, his gaze deep and dark as he looked at Han Shuang.
She seemed utterly unaware, panicking as she held back the officers coming to arrest him, her lips trembling, her expression full of concern. Sensing his gaze, she looked down and met his eyes, her own full of confusion and reproach. “Jingyun, tell them quickly — is this some kind of misunderstanding?”
From the death soldier to her — all of them the Grand Princess’s people. What misunderstanding could there possibly be?
He let out a cold laugh, his gaze passing over the officers, looking out into the distance.
The officers looked baffled, following his gaze to look toward the far end of the street as well.
The captured death soldier had bitten through his own tongue to end his life. The guards cleaned up what remained, and without further discussion, escorted Zhou Hemin back to the palace first. Zhou Hemin, quite helpless about it, glanced toward Huayue, who had collapsed sitting on the ground nearby, and waved. “I’ll come see you again in a couple of days.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” Huayue braced herself against the wall to stand, bowing, watching him mount his horse and ride away.
He was, after all, a prince of noble standing — with today’s chaos already this outrageous, there was no way he could stay behind to help clean up the aftermath.
There was still a pool of blood spreading across the ground. Huayue felt her legs go weak just looking at it. As she caught her breath, Liu Chenghe arrived with Chaofeng.
“Are you alright?” Chaofeng helped her up, glancing around, clicking her tongue in disbelief.
Huayue smiled and shook her head, then pointed Liu Chenghe in the direction Li Jingyun had run off in. He immediately took some men and went to look.
“We really picked the wrong day to go out today,” Chaofeng grumbled, stamping her foot as she helped Huayue away from the scene. “We were having a perfectly pleasant drink at Qifeng Tower when some drunken lunatic came barreling in looking for trouble. Chenghe’s got a stubborn temper too, insisted on fighting the man. Before that fight was even finished, we heard this whole other thing had broken out too.”
She took out a handkerchief and wiped Huayue’s face, asking quietly, “Did you all win over there?”
Huayue laughed despite herself, both amused and exasperated. “Should be a win. No one got hurt — it just got a bit chaotic, a little unsettling to look at.”
Chaofeng patted her hand reassuringly, then looked ahead. “What’s taking him so long to find just one person?”
Luohua Street was quite long, with three archways along its length. They’d passed the second archway when they saw a crowd of people ahead. Liu Chenghe’s servants stood outside the throng, unable to push through, craning their necks to see.
“What’s going on?” Chaofeng frowned.
Hearing her voice, a servant turned back and said hastily, “Young mistress, the officers are arresting someone up ahead.”
“Why should officers arresting someone concern us? Haven’t you all seen a spectacle before?” She glanced around. “Where’s my husband?”
The servant looked toward the crowd, at a loss.
The crowd of onlookers parted as officers pushed through, and a path suddenly opened up. Chaofeng brightened, stepping forward to push through — only to look up and see a familiar figure being escorted out by the officers.
“Hey.” She tugged, confused, at Huayue’s sleeve. “Doesn’t that person look a bit like our third young master?”
Huayue watched, her expression heavy, and after a long moment answered quietly, “Not a bit like. That is him.”
Ten officers surrounded Li Jingyun, though they hadn’t put him in shackles — each of them simply kept a hand resting on the hilt of the saber at their waist, their expressions wary.
Following her gaze, Huayue saw Han Shuang walking right at his side, her steps matching his, crying so hard her tears fell like pear blossoms in the rain.
“What is this, exactly?” Chaofeng frowned deeply. “Some kind of tearful farewell send-off?”
Liu Chenghe didn’t follow much farther before stepping back out of the crowd. Chaofeng pulled Huayue over to him, saying with obvious displeasure, “Why is he mixed up with that little vixen again?”
“It’s not that they’re mixed up together,” Liu Chenghe said, his expression grave. “The third young master accidentally killed the Grand Princess’s favorite. Han Shuang’s the witness.”
“Favorite?” Huayue shook her head. “He went after the masked man who attacked us on the street — why would he suddenly want to kill some favorite?”
Liu Chenghe looked at her, his expression complicated. “Put a mask on, and he’s an assassin. Take the mask off, and he’s a favorite. The third young master could kill a masked assassin, but he can’t kill an unmasked favorite. If the Grand Princess is determined to make trouble for him over this, the third young master’s life is now entirely in Han Shuang’s hands.”
Her breath caught. Huayue frowned, rubbing her temples.
There was no escaping it after all. This servant, powerless and without status, had no way to stop a Grand Princess of such power and standing — she’d thought that surviving the death soldiers’ hands already meant she’d covered everything. She hadn’t expected there to be another trap waiting behind that one.
Her mind raced. Huayue’s face tightened, and she instinctively bit at her fingernail.
Liu Chenghe watched her for a moment, then suddenly said, “Actually, little sister-in-law needn’t worry too much. Han Shuang, as a person… might not actually want the third young master’s life.”
Startled for a moment, Huayue looked back at him, and seeing the meaningful look in his eyes, slowly began to understand.
The Grand Princess’s anger stemmed from Li Jingyun refusing to be used by her — which left him with two paths before him. First, continue defying the Grand Princess, and he’d be saddled with a murder charge. Second, satisfy Han Shuang, and Han Shuang would naturally be willing to clear his name.
Absolutely brilliant — Huayue almost wanted to applaud. Li Jingyun didn’t hold even a minor official post, and yet he was worth this much careful scheming from those at the very top — truly, something worth sighing over.
“Utterly shameless,” Chaofeng said, her fine brows standing on end. “Is he really the only man left in this world? For her to come up with such a vicious, underhanded scheme!”
Liu Chenghe sighed. “It might not even be her own idea. But she has no other choice but to go along with it.”
He paused, glanced at Huayue, and said quietly, “Right now the third young master’s surely been taken to the prison. Little sister-in-law should head back to the estate to report this, and prepare some food and wine — go visit him later tonight.”
Huayue seemed lost in thought, and only after a long moment did she come back to herself, answering softly, “Alright.”
Chaofeng linked arms with her, saying briskly, “I’ll go back with you. When a household’s man runs into trouble, the women always end up flustered — with me there, I can help make sure you don’t miss anything.”
Liu Chenghe frowned, about to say this wasn’t quite proper, when her eyes swept over to him. “Husband has something to say?”
“…No.” Silently reminding himself that a gentleman doesn’t argue with a woman, Liu Chenghe took his servants and left on his own.
Chaofeng turned back, gently smoothing the hair at Huayue’s temple, her eyes full of sympathy. “Such a good girl, how did you end up with someone like the third young master. There’s no peace to be had by his side — but there is one thing you can take comfort in: the third young master doesn’t let anyone play him for a fool. With Han Shuang scheming against him like this, he definitely won’t let her have her way.”
Huayue pulled her up onto the horse, and the two rode back to the General’s estate without another word.
Watching her frail-looking back, Chaofeng felt her pity deepen further. When a husband ran into trouble, the way to save him was to hand your own husband over to someone else — if this situation had happened to her, she’d have been furious enough to die on the spot.
Huayue must be terribly upset too — look at her, the whole ride back, not a single word out of her.
Turning over comforting words in her mind, Chaofeng followed her through the gate of the east courtyard, intending to start from the perspective of a woman’s whole life, to help her understand that cherishing herself mattered most.
Instead, the moment she opened her mouth, she heard the person before her calmly instructing the servants, “Badou, go report to the General in the main courtyard — tell him young master’s been framed and is being held in the prison. Don’t alarm the lady. If the lady asks, say young master’s been kept by the Crown Prince for a meal and might not be back tonight.”
“Has the white deer in the back courtyard been fed? If it has, take a food box to the kitchen, have the cook prepare a couple dishes to go with wine, and bring along a jug of the huadiao liquor stored in the back kitchen — I’ll need it when I go out later.”
Huayue spoke as she stepped into the main room, found a clean, simple robe, and folded it neatly together with a pillow and bedding, wrapping it all in a cloth bundle. Glancing at the writing desk, she picked up the paper and ink, wrote a letter, and handed it off.
Once everything was ready, Huayue carried the bundle out, and, seeing Chaofeng still standing there dumbstruck without any response, brought her a cup of tea in passing. “Drink some water.”
Chaofeng opened her mouth instinctively.
Huayue fed her the tea, then gave her a piece of almond pastry as well, before taking the bundle in one hand and pulling her along with the other, heading outside. “Not sure how long this will take — eat something to hold you over first.”
The almond pastry dissolved in her mouth as Chaofeng swallowed, caught somewhere between laughter and disbelief.
Where else would you find a young woman like this — soft-spoken and gentle, delicate as a flower, and yet, blown by the wind, she refused to bend, tough and resilient as wild grass instead. Chaofeng had come intending to look after her, only to end up thoroughly looked after herself.