Lu Chonglou stood motionless, his heart struck again and again by something invisible yet as heavy as a mountain.

In one fleeting instant he even felt as though he were no longer alive — it was only his own thunderous heartbeat that reminded him he still was.

He felt that way, perhaps, because in that moment he thought being dead might be better than being alive.

When a person entertains that thought, it is almost always because they feel utterly hopeless and helpless, with no way out.

But just as despair appeared, Lu Chonglou suddenly came to his senses.

Death — what would it change?

So he looked at Jiang Wei and said: “I’ve been ordered south. I have no reason to return to Daxing City, so I can’t help you.”

Jiang Wei smiled. “Getting you to go back is simple enough.”

He stepped back a few paces and gestured toward the woman he had called Miss Ru.

“Miss Ru is a woman of considerable abilities. She is not merely what she showed you — not just tenderness, not just the music and chess and painting she used to charm you.”

Jiang Wei said: “She can make you appear gravely wounded, without the injury being life-threatening. She can also make you appear gravely ill in a way no skilled physician could detect.”

Miss Ru stepped forward, smiling as she looked at Lu Chonglou: “Not only do you not know what I’m truly capable of, you don’t even know my real name. I’ll tell you now — I’m called Gusu Ru.”

Lu Chonglou said: “So everything before was a lie.”

Gusu Ru said: “Why dwell on the past, my lord? Is it not better to look forward?”

She came to stand before Lu Chonglou, placed her hand lightly on his chest, and gave a gentle tap: “There is still so much life ahead. And the days spent with my lord — those were all good days. For you as well, I think.”

Lu Chonglou looked down at this woman. Once, everything about her had captivated him — those red lips, those willow-leaf brows, the scent of her hair, the faint flush on her cheeks.

Now he felt as though the beautiful woman standing before him had shed her outer skin, leaving behind only a skeleton — terrifying and repulsive.

“I…”

Lu Chonglou swallowed with great difficulty. “What do I need to do?”

As he spoke, his gaze had gone completely hollow.

Gusu Ru said: “Preferably an injury. In a moment I’ll stab you — it won’t hit anything vital. As long as you stand still, I promise it will look convincingly as though an assassin wanted your life, and you barely survived by luck.”

“Then you can shout for help. Your guards are not far from here. They’ll come quickly, and as long as they can stop the bleeding promptly, you’ll be fine.”

“I should say — your rank really works in our favor. Without a Tingwei officer of qianban grade shadowing you, meeting like this would have been much harder.”

Jiang Wei picked up the thread: “The Tingwei Office will immediately escort you back to Daxing City — it’s only about a hundred li, you won’t be long.”

“Once you’re back, the Prince of Ning Li Chi will certainly investigate. You tell him you were attacked by an assassin, that you didn’t recognize the assailant, only that he asked whether you were Lu Chonglou — and from his accent he didn’t sound like someone from Jingzhou.”

Gusu Ru said: “They will quickly suspect Shuzhou. So they will bring that traitor to see you — this person will try to ask you certain things.”

As she said this, Gusu Ru produced something that looked like a medicinal pill and held it out to Lu Chonglou.

“This is something unique to our Shuzhou. It’s called the Half-Day Worm. One bite from it, and even an immortal cannot save you within half a day.”

Gusu Ru said: “We must ensure the traitor dies. Do this for us, and we will never come to you again.”

Lu Chonglou reached out and took the pill. “You’re certain?”

Jiang Wei nodded. “Trust us on this. We keep our word.”

Gusu Ru said: “This pill is prepared by a special method. Keep it concealed in your clothing. When that person is before you, slip the pill into his clothing without being seen.”

Jiang Wei added: “We’ve calculated the time it takes for the pill’s casing to dissolve. If you find no opportunity to eliminate the traitor — then eliminate the Prince of Ning Li Chi instead. Otherwise, once the casing dissolves, the venomous worm will bite you.”

Lu Chonglou’s expression shifted violently.

Gusu Ru took Lu Chonglou’s hand and said: “If you’re afraid and don’t dare stay any longer, once your wound has healed we’ll take you away. After that, the two of us can find a good place and live the rest of our lives in peace, asking nothing more of the world.”

Lu Chonglou looked down at the pill: “How many of these do you have?”

Jiang Wei said: “These are extraordinarily difficult to make, and the Half-Day Worm dies easily. We have only this one.”

The pill’s casing couldn’t use wax — that would kill the worm. The creature was delicate. It could only be encased in this specially made medicinal shell. And the worm was exquisitely sensitive to its environment; the slightest incompatibility and it would perish.

Hearing there was only one, Lu Chonglou suddenly laughed: “Good.”

He crushed the pill in his palm, then shoved its contents into his mouth, heedless of everything, and chewed with all his might.

The sound of crunching filled the air as the worm was ground to a pulp between his teeth — and then he spat it out.

The move came so suddenly that neither Jiang Wei nor Gusu Ru had time to react.

Gusu Ru had said Lu Chonglou was a bookish man with no courage to speak of — easy to control.

And just moments ago, his manner had given nothing suspicious away. Even a fox as seasoned as Jiang Wei had been fooled by Lu Chonglou’s look of despair.

Lu Chonglou spat out what remained in his mouth and burst out laughing: “What can you do to me now?”

Then he cried out at the top of his voice: “Help! Someone, help!”

“You’re looking to die!”

Jiang Wei’s face went white with fury. In a fit of rage, he drew his blade and drove it toward Lu Chonglou’s heart.

Lu Chonglou was nothing but a frail scholar — he had gained some physical strength from his time on the road, but he was no match for a single strike from an expert.

The blade flew so fast — it should have buried itself in Lu Chonglou’s chest. Instead, the impact sent Jiang Wei staggering backward.

But by then Jiang Wei had no time to act further. He led his people in swift retreat.

When the Tingwei officers arrived, Jiang Wei and his men had already pulled well back.

Lu Chonglou was genuinely terrified. He scrambled upright, pulled open his own robe, and looked.

Over his chest was a heart-guard mirror — now dented with a deep dimple. Had it not been there, the dagger would have pierced straight through his heart.

Even with such a narrow escape, Lu Chonglou’s face was drained of all color.

He thought then — he truly ought to thank the lord for that one conversation. Otherwise, why would he ever have worn a heart-guard mirror?

He had put it on to guard against assassins — specifically out of fear that Xu Ji might move against him. Little had he imagined it would be people from Shuzhou.

“Lord Lu — Lord Lu?”

Guards held Lu Chonglou and examined him, calling his name several times before he came to himself and grinned foolishly at them: “I’m fine… I’m fine, right?”

Whether he was telling his men he was fine, or asking them whether he was fine, was unclear.

But the moment those words left his mouth, the grinning Lu Chonglou suddenly erupted in violent coughing, then retched in great heaving waves.

His men quickly supported him back to the convoy. Lu Chonglou managed to say, in broken pieces, that he had been poisoned. The Tingwei officers each carried antidotes as a matter of course — whether it was the right remedy was uncertain, but they fed him two doses anyway.

Then the convoy set off in frantic haste back toward Daxing City, without a moment’s delay.

Far off, Jiang Wei lay flat atop a ridge, watching the Ning army convoy through a spyglass — then drove his fist heavily into the ground.

He turned to look at the woman called Gusu Ru. Her face had gone pale with fright.

“You told me he was timid and easily frightened — scared even of insects and vermin. How is it he suddenly doesn’t fear death?”

Faced with his accusation, Gusu Ru had no answer.

Because in all her days with Lu Chonglou, he had truly been a timid man — exceptionally so.

She had seen it with her own eyes: the man would jump onto the counter at the sight of a mouse.

But a man afraid of mice — suddenly unafraid of death. She could not fathom it.

She couldn’t, and Jiang Wei couldn’t either — not yet. Neither of them understood: if Jiang Wei hadn’t added that line about killing the Prince of Ning should he fail to kill the traitor, Lu Chonglou might still have tried to stall for time and find a chance to expose them.

But because of that one line, he had feared this potent poison might truly be turned against the Prince of Ning. And in that one instant, he had ceased to fear anything at all.

A single thought filled his mind: The lord has shown me great grace. I may die, but the Prince of Ning must not come to harm.

This is how a clever man can act foolishly — swiftly, and simply.

“This won’t be easy now.”

Jiang Wei sat up and let out a long, heavy breath.

They had already lost time. Heaven only knew whether Fang Biechen had leaked anything.

Knowing Fang Biechen as he did, it was possible he had said nothing until now. But after this — with Fang Biechen learning that Jiang Wei had come to kill him — it was unlikely he would hold back any longer.

Lu Chonglou’s convoy rushed back toward Daxing City. Before it entered the city, a messenger who had ridden ahead had already brought the news to Li Chi.

By the time the convoy approached the city gate, Li Chi had come out to meet it, accompanied by physicians from the Shen Medical Hall.

“How is he?”

Li Chi glanced at Lu Chonglou’s face — dark as black ink — and his heart sank.

A poison this severe. He may not survive.

“What poison is it?”

one of the Shen Medical Hall physicians asked.

A guard answered quickly: “Before he lost consciousness, Lord Lu kept murmuring something about a Half-Day Worm.”

“A rare Shuzhou toxin.”

The woman standing nearby murmured to herself.

She was Shen Ru’an, who had arrived in Daxing City only the day before. She had been traveling the world for some time — her temperament was such that she did not like to linger in one place too long. Had it not been for news of Tang Pidi’s wedding, she would not have come at all.

As it was, she had rushed as fast as she could, but the road was simply too long — she was still some days late.

“What is that?”

Li Chi asked.

Shen Ru’an said: “There is a special venomous worm in Shuzhou, called the Half-Day Worm. It is little known. Anyone it bites will die within half a day, without exception.”

Li Chi startled — then caught himself: “Lu Chonglou was poisoned more than half a day ago, and he’s still alive…”

He looked urgently at Shen Ru’an: “What can cure this poison?”

Shen Ru’an did not answer directly. She pulled open Lu Chonglou’s eyelid and examined it carefully, then pried open his mouth and looked, then took his wrist to feel his pulse.

Everyone fell silent. No one dared to breathe, lest they disturb her concentration.

“He should survive.”

Shen Ru’an released his wrist and brushed a strand of hair back from her forehead: “The Half-Day Worm’s venom is lethal. If an antidote is administered within an hour there is hope — and apparently his luck held, because from what I can tell, he has already received the antidote.”

Everyone exchanged bewildered glances.

Shen Ru’an said mildly: “The antidote for the Half-Day Worm is the worm’s… droppings.”

She instructed the Shen Medical Hall physicians to treat him properly, then looked at Li Chi: “So — lucky as he was — perhaps… the worm simply happened to have something in it.”

Everyone was even more stunned than before.

Shen Ru’an said: “For the antidote to work, it must be fresh. The fresher, the better.”

Then she looked once more at Lu Chonglou: “From the looks of him — it was fresh.”

—