The clamor and the clash of weapons erupted beyond the back courtyard wall. Like a drop of water hitting hot oil, the quiet weaving workshop suddenly filled with voices and footsteps.
Ji Yingying’s face changed drastically. Could Sheng Fengze have come? She pushed Yang Jingyuan forcefully: “Leave quickly. People will be here any moment!”
The ambush party outside discovered intruders in the Zhao family’s back courtyard workshop. The commotion prompted the already-prepared Zhao family guards to light their torches.
“Go now, while you haven’t been discovered yet.” Ji Yingying grew anxious.
“Yingying!” Yang Jingyuan called out to her, drinking in her appearance greedily.
“I’ll wait for you!”
“Wait for me.” Yang Jingyuan said hurriedly before turning to flee with Niu Qinian.
Ji Yingying couldn’t help but follow them to the doorway. The chain on her foot pulled taut, preventing her from taking another step forward. She gazed out from the entrance. A red glow illuminated the direction of the water pool. They could no longer return the way they came.
“To the roofs!” Yang Jingyuan looked back at Ji Yingying, steeled his heart, and pulled Niu Qinian’s arm as they leaped onto the rooftop.
Nanzhao rarely saw rain, and every household had flat roofs. The moonlight was too bright to conceal anyone. When Ji Yingying had entered Jinye Street by ox cart, she had noticed the guards at the entrance. With the street sealed off, Yang Jingyuan and Niu Qinian would find it impossible to escape. Even if they managed to flee Jinye Street, the city gates were closed, and there was still Sang Shisi who knew no martial arts. They would eventually be captured by the Nanzhao forces.
What could she do to draw their attention away?
Ji Yingying dragged her chained foot to the bed, pulled down the curtain, and placed it under the oil lamp.
The fire quickly spread along the curtain as she threw it onto the loom. The bamboo and wooden loom caught fire rapidly. She tore apart the bedding, setting the flammable fabric ablaze and throwing it at the doorway.
The cold wind swept in, feeding the flames as they gradually climbed the pillars and curled up toward the rafters.
Ji Yingying poured an entire pot of tea over her skirts, covered her nose and mouth, and retreated to the corner.
“The weaving room is on fire!”
A silk workshop feared fire above all else. As the shouts arose, the Zhao family guards were drawn to the smoke and flames in the back courtyard, failing to notice Yang Jingyuan and Niu Qinian escaping across the rooftops.
Looking back at the rising flames, Yang Jingyuan’s heart clenched with worry. He could no longer concern himself with Niu Qinian: “Head back to the inn first!”
Before Niu Qinian could stop him, he flew like an eagle back toward the Zhao residence.
This fire also saved Sheng Fengze and Chihu.
The plan to kill Sheng Fengze under the pretext of mistaking him for an assassin in the darkness failed because of this fire.
Sheng Fengze coldly regarded the commander who had led troops to surround him, striding toward the Zhao family’s back gate: “Had I not come tonight, I wouldn’t have known that Lord Qingping ordered men to surround the Zhao residence, planning to burn alive those weaving the Huajin for our sovereign.”
“Your Highness, this is a misunderstanding…” It wasn’t Lord Qingping who had set the fire. At this moment, no explanation would suffice, as the guards of Jinye Street had been alerted. Though stripped of his prince title, Sheng Fengze remained the sovereign’s brother. The troop commander’s scalp tingled, uncertain of his fate.
Hearing the clatter of armor and hoofbeats of soldiers entering from the front street, Sheng Fengze sneered: “If you wish to kill me, feel free to shoot arrows at my back.”
With those words, he kicked open the Zhao family’s back gate. Chihu stood with his blade ready, facing away from him. With his master exposing his back, he had to stay alert for desperate attacks. Seeing Sheng Fengze enter the Zhao residence, the soldiers dared not act further, and only then did he turn to follow.
The Zhao household was busy fetching water to extinguish the fire. The flames from the weaving room had already reached the roof, with smoke billowing everywhere. Zhao Xiuyuan stood outside, jumping anxiously as he shouted: “Heavy reward for anyone who goes in to save her! Yingying, hang on, I’m getting help!”
In the chaos, Yang Jingyuan dropped from the roof and rushed through the blazing doorway.
Zhao Xiuyuan didn’t recognize him and shouted joyfully: “A reward for saving her!”
Though the fire appeared intense from the outside, the interior was spacious and hadn’t burned as severely as imagined. Yang Jingyuan spotted Ji Yingying huddled in the corner and ran to her jubilantly.
“Why did you come back?!” Seeing his return, Ji Yingying grew so angry her vision darkened. “What are you doing here?! I’m not foolish, I wouldn’t let myself burn to death! Go, leave!”
“I’m taking you with me!” Yang Jingyuan’s mind was clouded with urgency as he bent to lift her and run.
The iron chain clinked loudly as Ji Yingying struggled and cursed: “Are you stupid? How can I possibly leave?”
Yang Jingyuan froze, then sat down holding her: “It doesn’t matter. I’ll stay with you. Whether we live or die, I’ll stay by your side.”
“Who needs you to stay? I won’t die. This room is tall and spacious, and even now the back room hasn’t caught fire. The flames will die down soon. Third Young Master, go!” Ji Yingying struggled, inhaled some smoke, and began coughing.
Yang Jingyuan felt her damp skirts and covered her nose and mouth: “Now my heart is at peace.”
“Fool!” Ji Yingying’s muffled curse was followed by a sudden calm in her heart. Whether they lived or died, being together was enough. She wrapped her arms around his waist, watching through tears as the roof ahead crackled in flames.
Yang Jingyuan smiled: “The first time at Zhulin Temple when you embraced me by mistake, I thought to myself if my stepmother wants me to take a wife, why not marry a young lady like you?”
He lowered his head to kiss her forehead. At last, his wish was fulfilled.
A beam cracked loudly, a burning section falling to block the door. This made the fire appear more intense to those outside.
“Go in and save her!” Zhao Xiuyuan screamed heartrendingly in the courtyard.
Sheng Fengze strode forward, grabbed Zhao Xiuyuan, and asked only one question: “Ji Yingying is inside?”
Zhao Xiuyuan nodded blankly. Sheng Fengze threw him aside and ran toward the building.
“Master! You cannot go in!” Chihu frantically grabbed Sheng Fengze’s waist.
“Your Highness! Your Highness!” Zhao Xiuyuan trembled as he pulled a key from his money pouch, shouting, “The key! The key to the shackles!”
He didn’t want Ji Yingying to die. He truly didn’t!
His vision went black as Sheng Fengze struck him to the ground, snatching the key from his hand.
Chihu’s arms were like iron bands around his waist. Sheng Fengze drew the silver dagger at his waist and swiftly stabbed it into Chihu’s arm. As Chihu’s grip loosened in pain, he broke free. He removed his cloak, soaked it in a bucket of water, draped it over himself, and leaped into the flames.
“Master!” Chihu’s soul nearly left his body. Seeing that the back room wasn’t yet on fire, he yanked Zhao Xiuyuan up from the ground and shouted hoarsely, “Order them to break down the wall! Break down the back room’s wall!”
A beam cracked and fell, bringing down tiles and debris with it. The roof burned through, creating a large hole from which tongues of flame leaped skyward.
“Yingying!” Sheng Fengze searched for Ji Yingying through the smoke and flames. Covering his nose and mouth with his cloak, he kicked aside the burning scattered loom debris, suddenly spotting the two figures huddled in the corner of the back room.
The fire illuminated Sheng Fengze’s face. Yang Jingyuan stood up, naturally positioning himself in front of Ji Yingying.
“Yang Jingyuan.” Sheng Fengze stood ten feet away, somewhat surprised yet somehow understanding. Yang Jingyuan’s figure blocked Ji Yingying from view; he could only see her slowly rising from the ground.
“Sheng Fengze.” Yang Jingyuan drew his sword.