Despite deciding to risk using Zhang Yuehui’s channels to send messages, Wanyan Puruo still kept one trump card in reserve.

She only sent word to the Return Hall in Jinling, claiming that she was caught between enemies in Jinling and needed them to secretly escort her back to Li Du Mansion.

Of course, the person in the carriage wasn’t her, but a trusted female attendant with a similar build.

She was betting that no matter how treacherous Zhang Yuehui’s intentions were, he wouldn’t dare set his sights on her. Would he dare intercept her carriage and block her path?

If he did that, he truly wouldn’t want to live anymore. If he fell into her hands, it would mean death by a thousand cuts.

Such a selfish and self-serving person—why would he sacrifice himself for a dynasty that had abandoned him?

Wanyan Puruo was absolutely certain about Zhang Yuehui’s character.

When Zhang Yuehui received this secret message, he initially thought Wanyan Puruo truly intended to return.

He had been constantly monitoring the situation in Jinling. Having heard that Shen Zhizhong had rooted out a high-ranking mole, it seemed Wanyan Puruo’s circumstances were indeed quite dire.

But upon further reflection, if Wanyan Puruo wanted to leave, she could do so openly. Why would she need a secret escort? Unless she still wanted to maintain the illusion that she remained in Jinling to deceive those old foxes like Shen Zhizhong, while secretly making a trip to Li Du Mansion to deliver intelligence.

This meant the intelligence in her possession was very important.

Her specifically requesting the Return Hall for escort was also a warning—don’t get any ideas about this intelligence.

After pondering for a long time, Zhang Yuehui reached a conclusion: with Wanyan Puruo’s return this time, Xie Queshan would likely face more danger than fortune.

This originally had nothing to do with him. The troublesome part was that Nanyi was on the boat. Actually, it wasn’t that troublesome—he could just forcibly take her back. But Zhang Yuehui couldn’t get past his own conscience. He felt that if he did this, he would forever be inferior to Xie Queshan.

Losing face but not losing ground—he had to leave himself room for a comeback.

He confidently believed that in Nanyi’s heart, his status was equal to Xie Queshan’s.

Anyway, Xie Queshan was such a person who didn’t value his life—dying young was his destiny. Sooner or later, he would become Nanyi’s memory, and the entire second half of her life would be his opportunity to take advantage of the void.

As for Xie Queshan, he didn’t plan to do anything. Observing the situation and fishing in troubled waters was a sure-win deal for him.

The immediate priority was figuring out how to trick Nanyi into coming back.

Just then, another secret report was delivered to his hands.

——

Click—a slight sound of mechanisms engaging, and the shackles opened.

Nanyi herself hadn’t expected to succeed this time. She slowly raised her head in disbelief to look at Xie Queshan.

“It worked?” Nanyi opened her mouth wide, quickly threw the iron chains aside, uncertainly touched Xie Queshan’s wrist, then forcefully pinched her own hand.

It hurt. It was real.

Xie Queshan was also somewhat surprised: “It worked.”

Nanyi immediately became excited, pulling Xie Queshan as she ran. He had finally crossed through that door he couldn’t exit and reached the spacious deck.

She vigorously shook his hand—no more annoying rustling sounds. Her smiling face sparkled brilliantly in the river wind mixed with sunlight.

And some things, at this moment, had to be brought into the sunlight and clarified.

“Xie Queshan, so what are your plans now?”

Nanyi smiled brightly, yet looked at Xie Queshan with utmost seriousness.

He said he didn’t want to seek help from the Bingzhu Bureau, didn’t want to expose his identity. She understood—some emotions had been lodged there for many years. He couldn’t forgive himself and didn’t want to put those old friends in a difficult position. He carried self-destructive thoughts, and she wouldn’t stand by and watch him seek death, so she made the efforts she had to make.

The hope was slim. She had no confidence in how far she could go and deliberately avoided this sharp topic. But now, the shackles were gone, and he could choose again.

“What kind of future do you want?” But Xie Queshan didn’t directly address her question.

“I don’t want you to die.”

He tilted his head slightly, avoiding the glaring sunlight: “Why?”

She answered very seriously: “If you die like this, for me, the justice of this world would collapse.”

From the moment she alone glimpsed his true appearance, she could no longer stay out of it. Her understanding of this world was influenced by him—this was the brand he had left on her.

He must see the light of day and live to a hundred. He must be adored by all and become a marquis and minister. This was the most simple fairness of this world.

At the very worst, he should die wrapped in a horse’s hide on the battlefield. Under no circumstances should he die here in obscurity.

But Xie Queshan actually fell silent.

Nanyi felt uncertain again and shamelessly added: “Anyway, you have to take responsibility for me.”

Xie Queshan smiled: “We should think about where to go after leaving here, shouldn’t we?”

This sentence immediately lit up Nanyi’s eyes, her clear pupils sparkling with a few traces of happy surprise.

“You’re willing to leave together?”

Xie Queshan raised the wrist that Nanyi was grasping: “Someone went through so much trouble to save me—I can’t let her down, can I?”

Nanyi was overjoyed. Looking at Xie Queshan made her unable to suppress her grin. She couldn’t even say a complete sentence, spinning around excitedly on the deck, finally leaning against the ship’s rail and shouting toward the empty cliffs.

“I’m sick of looking at you—we’re leaving!”

Xie Queshan watched Nanyi with a smile, his gaze holding a strange certainty.

…

With the shackles removed, leaving this ship became easy. Tomorrow when the person delivering food came, they would knock him unconscious, steal his boat, and escape.

Xie Queshan and Nanyi agreed that after leaving here, they wouldn’t return to Li Du Mansion temporarily to avoid unnecessary trouble. They would wait until Song Muchuan’s plan was completed and everything settled before going back.

By then, Xie Queshan’s state of mind might be different again. Nanyi naturally hoped he could be understood by everyone and receive the glory he deserved, but these were still distant luxuries. Being able to stay alive now, being together, and taking things one step at a time were already very good results.

Tonight would be their last night on the ship.

Nanyi hadn’t been this happy in a long time. She felt the path ahead had become bright.

After drinking some wine, she began to feel euphoric. Other people’s alcohol went to their stomachs, but hers seemed to go to her eyes—watery, sparkling, crescent-shaped eyes overflowing with clear, fragrant intoxication. Just looking at her once, one seemed ready to become drunk in those eyes.

She gestured animatedly as she spoke.

“People say Jinling has no nights—the lanterns in the streets can dance until dawn! I’ve never been to such a prosperous place.”

Xie Queshan rested his chin on his hand, also somewhat intoxicated, his whole being impossibly gentle: “I haven’t been there either.”

Nanyi boldly slapped the table: “Then we must go to Jinling! We worked so hard to send Prince Ling’an into the city—we should at least get some soup from the victory feast!”

She waved her hand, unrealistically fantasizing: “In Jinling, let’s stay at inns every day, okay? I heard the banquet spreads in Jinling are different from the northern ones—such big plates with only this tiny, fist-sized portion of food, just enough for one person to take one bite, but that one bite is incredibly delicious! Wouldn’t I have to eat for ten days or so?”

“How would that be enough? You’d have to eat for two or three months.”

“Right, right, right, you have such grand vision, Master Xie—when the time comes, the new emperor must give you a high official position—your achievements… must all be carved on stone tablets… I’ll have to bask in your glory—forget inns, you’ll have to take me to eat at the imperial palace’s royal banquets! When you walk down the street in the future, everyone who sees you will say—this is that Master Xie who endured humiliation and hardship! Who slept on straw and tasted gall! Who achieved great military feats!”

Xie Queshan smiled and took a sip of wine: “Where did you learn so many idioms?”

Nanyi patted her chest: “Learning and using them immediately!”

As she spoke, she felt her body getting heavy and swayed, thinking she had drunk too much. She supported herself on the table to sit down and looked defiantly at Xie Queshan’s cup—his cup was also empty, but he still sat there immovably.

She rubbed her forehead: “Why is my alcohol tolerance so much worse than yours?”

Xie Queshan gently supported her arm: “If you’re tired, go sleep first.”

The double vision before her eyes became increasingly blurry. She could barely make out Xie Queshan’s face. Her whole body felt light and airy, unable to summon any strength.

Her last bit of consciousness supported her… How could Xie Queshan be so calm?

This wasn’t right.

“You…”

Nanyi gripped Xie Queshan’s sleeve tightly, using her last bit of strength to stare at him intently.

Only then did she see clearly—his eyes were so lonely.

He had accompanied her in drinking a farewell toast, and she had been so delighted about it.

Her heart immediately began to panic. What was he going to do? Hadn’t they agreed?

“You… you lied to me?”

Xie Queshan helped Nanyi up, saying gently: “You should sleep now.”

“Liar…” Each word consumed what little strength she had left. But she was still fighting against her impending unconsciousness—she couldn’t let him succeed.

She had to keep talking. As long as she kept talking, she wouldn’t fall unconscious.

“Why? Even if we escaped… and were hunted by the Qi people… it would only be our business… it wouldn’t affect Li Du Mansion or the Bingzhu Bureau… Why?”

Her arms struggled upward, cupping his face. She wanted to see clearly, to see even more clearly. Even though her vision was constantly blurred by rising tears, she still wanted to see him clearly.

The smile finally disappeared from Xie Queshan’s face, but his expression remained peaceful.

Everything was within his plan.

“Nanyi, you must be safe and sound.”

If he escaped, the Qi people’s pursuit would be overwhelming. He didn’t want to drag her down.

Things weren’t really that complicated. As long as he alone sacrificed himself, it could exchange for overall stability.

“I don’t want safety, Xie Queshan…” She was almost out of strength.

She was like someone hanging from a vine at a cliff’s edge until exhaustion—she knew the outcome could only be letting go powerlessly and falling into the abyss, but she still wasn’t resigned to it.

So everything she had done was useless. He was just acting with her.

He really was a bastard.

“I’ll hate you for a lifetime… no… hate you through all lifetimes… Even if you become a ghost, I’ll haunt you… We should… go to hell together. Don’t you dare, don’t you dare abandon me…”

Finally, Nanyi couldn’t hold on any longer. Her eyelids closed heavily and never opened again, her whole body falling limply into his embrace.

“Good. Hating me is better.”

He looked at her quietly, his face expressionless.

A barely perceptible sigh dropped into the rolling river waters—a ripple that was quickly smoothed away.