“Clang!”
At this critical moment, a pebble flew from the shadows, striking the assailant’s wrist. The knife fell to the ground with a loud crash.
Zhu Yan reacted swiftly, dodging to the side. Still shaken, she saw a familiar figure quickly appear before her. The familiar presence and that upright posture finally put her at ease.
It was Shen Du. He had come to save her.
Not far from them stood a black-clad figure – the one who had tried to take her life. His face was hidden, but his exposed eyes gleamed with cold murderous intent.
He was clearly after her life. Who could want her dead so badly?
Seeing Shen Du arrive, the assassin showed no signs of retreat. Instead, the killing intent in his eyes grew even fiercer. The two quickly engaged in combat.
“You dare touch my person? You’re seeking death,” Shen Du’s attacks were lethal, showing no mercy. He was enraged.
Zhu Yan stayed back, not wanting to hinder Shen Du. Hearing his words, her heart stirred slightly.
But this fight was different from previous ones. The assassin’s target was Zhu Yan. While battling Shen Du, he constantly sought opportunities to strike at her.
It wasn’t hard to guess who in Chang’an wanted her dead. Just moments ago, they were praising her before the Empress, and now they were trying to ambush and kill her. This move lacked honor.
The assassin feinted, taking advantage of Shen Du’s anger-clouded judgment. Seizing an opportunity, he spun around, flipping his blade, and slashed towards Zhu Yan.
“Zhu Yan!”
It was too late to stop him. Shen Du’s eyes darkened as he quickly pulled Zhu Yan into his arms, shielding her. The blade cut across Shen Du’s back with a gust of wind.
Feeling the pain in his back, Shen Du turned and struck the assassin’s chest with his palm. A spray of black blood splattered onto the bluestone pavement.
“You’re injured?!” Zhu Yan’s voice was choked with tears.
Shaking his head, Shen Du’s eyes were dark, like a bloodthirsty wolf on the grasslands, fixated on his opponent. His killing intent bore down on the assassin’s face.
The black-clad figure stumbled backward, seemingly forced back by this murderous aura. His hand trembled, unable to hold the knife steady.
“Zhu Yan, you can’t escape,” the assassin spat out the obligatory threat before quickly retreating, leaping over the wall, and disappearing.
“Ugh!”
Zhu Yan held Shen Du tightly, feeling warm liquid soaking her hands. Looking down, she saw crimson blood.
“So much blood…”
Zhu Yan began to panic. Whether from nervousness or worry, her face turned pale. She gripped Shen Du tightly, asking anxiously, “Please be alright, okay? I… I’ll take you back to see a physician right away.”
“I’m fine,” Shen Du forced a smile, seeing Zhu Yan’s anxious state. He said nonchalantly, “This small wound won’t hurt me. Don’t forget who I am.”
His eyes darkened, fists clenched. He rested his head on top of hers, as if comforting a cat, and placed his hand on her shoulder.
“I am the White King of Hell, after all.”
Hearing this, Zhu Yan grew angry. At such a critical moment, with his life at stake, how could he still joke with her?
“What White King of Hell? They don’t understand you. The real King of Hell isn’t as handsome as you. He wouldn’t even take you, out of jealousy.”
Feeling blood flowing from his back and his consciousness fading, Shen Du leaned closer to Zhu Yan and let out a long breath:
“So you know I’m handsome. Then why do you love looking at other men?”
Other men? Who?
“You’ve lost so much blood, and you still have the mind to question me about this? Even if I were to look at men, it would be the dead ones in the morgue. When have I ever spared a glance at others?”
Zhu Yan was so anxious she was nearly crying. She couldn’t move Shen Du, and he kept bleeding…
“Tell me, how do I stop the bleeding?”
Her delicate hands were grasped as Shen Du leaned almost his entire weight on her. His breathing was irregular.
“As long as you understand why someone wants to kill you, this injury of mine is worth it.”
As he finished speaking, Shen Du couldn’t help but cough twice.
Zhu Yan was frightened and at a loss. She quickly patted Shen Du’s back gently, her expression full of guilt as she said, “I know, I understand everything. I won’t provoke him anymore. I promise I won’t investigate this case any further. This case ends here. I was wrong, I was too selfish. As long as you’re not hurt anymore, as long as you’re safe and sound, I can give up everything.”
Zhu Yan’s mouth opened. What was she saying? Her ears turned red, and she dared not look at Shen Du, only hoping he hadn’t heard her words. Otherwise, it would be too embarrassing.
These words sounded like she was confessing to Shen Du.
“If you don’t find a way to get me back for treatment soon, you might become a widow.”
Zhu Yan finally came to her senses. She took out the communication device for the Local Constable and, moments later, they were in a carriage.
The Shen residence had its physician. Shen Du’s back injury was deep, down to the bone, but fortunately, there was no internal damage. The physician quickly treated and bandaged the wound before preparing to gather medicines. Zhu Yan pulled him aside to inquire about precautions.
Jing Lin knelt before the bed, refusing to rise. Without Zhu Yan present, Shen Du’s expression was cold, his body exuding killing intent.
“Please punish me, Master.”
Shen Du leaned against the bed: “You indeed deserve punishment. Not one of the guards you assigned to Zhu Yan appeared. What use are you?”
Jing Lin had no defense: “They… none of them returned.”
“…”
Shen Du stood up: “What?”
“The enemy dealt with all our men. None of them came back.”
Shen Du’s body swayed, and he suddenly coughed up blood. Jing Lin hurriedly supported him: “Director?!”
Zhu Yan heard the commotion and entered. Seeing the situation, her face turned pale: “Quickly, call the physician!”
Jing Lin rushed out, grabbing the physician who was preparing to gather medicines and bringing him to the bedside.
“Anger has affected his heart.”
Late into the night, Shen Du’s fever wouldn’t break. Zhu Yan cared for him all night without closing her eyes, changing basin after basin of water.
She had never seen Shen Du so weak before. Those eyes that could scare people to tears with just a glance were now tightly shut. His lips were pale, his brows furrowed, unnaturally quiet.
Tears fell on the back of her hand. Zhu Yan smiled. Why was she crying? If Shen Du died, she would be happy. That way, she wouldn’t die.
But she already owed Shen Du two lives. He had saved her when she was eleven, and now at sixteen, he had saved her again. How could she let him die?
Zhu Yan took Shen Du’s hand and placed it in her palm. She lowered her head, tracing the lines on his palm, and murmured:
“For the rest of this time, I’ll be a good Madam Shen. I won’t meddle in anything anymore. You’re injured now and need care. I’ll have to change your bandages and brew medicinal soups for you in the future. These are all servants’ tasks, but I, as Madam Shen, will take care of everything. When you wake up and recover, you’ll have to compensate me for my losses.”
Sighing, Zhu Yan lowered her head, resting it on Shen Du’s palm. Drowsiness overcame her, and she mumbled:
“The fever’s gone.”
Shen Du was awakened by pain. His back burned fiercely. Before he could open his eyes, he heard Zhu Yan talking to herself, crying one moment and laughing the next. He heard everything.
But before he could hear what he wanted to hear, she fell asleep.
Had he had a fever? Had this woman cared for him all night?
Zhu Yan’s drool flowed onto his palm as she slept. Shen Du’s mouth twitched visibly, but he quickly inhaled sharply from the pain. He made no sound, silently staring at the ceiling as the sky outside gradually brightened.