Chen Lun had accompanied Shu Shenhui for many years, witnessing his rise from Lord Anle to Lord Qi and then to Regent Prince. Usually, no matter what adverse situations or unexpected events he encountered, he habitually maintained an attitude of treating heavy matters as light. Even with the Beidi Southern Prince just now, if they could have captured him alive, what an inspiring achievement that would have been. When they ultimately lost him, he merely had Liu Xiang lead men down to search, showing not the slightest trace of resentment or regret in his words or expression.
Truthfully speaking, this was the first time in Chen Lun’s life that he had seen him lose composure like this, speaking to him in such a stern tone.
However, Chen Lun completely understood. The marriage alliance with the female general was a major affair. They had been wed for such a short time—if she were to perish under his watch, how could he face Jiang Zuwang?
He had already hurried away. Chen Lun knew he intended to personally descend into the deep valley and dared not obstruct him. He immediately gathered all the men he had brought on this expedition, left one unit to stand guard with agreed-upon signals to respond to orders at any time, commanded the rest to follow, and secretly arranged several skilled men to accompany him closely on both sides.
Such arrangements weren’t because he didn’t trust the Regent Prince’s ability to handle emergencies alone. On the contrary, Chen Lun knew well that he had cultivated both literature and martial arts since childhood. His feat just now of drawing that hard longbow to full draw and piercing three men with one arrow—even in the crossbow battalions specializing in archery, those who could accomplish this were few and far between.
If he had gotten his wish to go to the frontier prefectures in his early years, he should now be a general bloodied by desert battles. It was only fate that arranged another position for him. Since he was destined to be today’s Regent Prince of Great Wei, his status carried weight upon weight—to say he was tied to Wei’s national fortune was no exaggeration. He absolutely could not suffer any mishap. Originally, such dangerous ventures should never have required his involvement. Since Chen Lun dared not obstruct him, he could only arrange things as best as possible. After all, no one knew what the situation below actually was until they descended.
Liu Xiang had already led a group ahead to scout part of the route. Several li ahead, the cliff face gradually gentled, allowing them to forge a path downward. Another group had also temporarily collected many old mountain vines, twisting several strands together to create vine ropes whose strength and resilience could support the weight of multiple adults.
Though the cliff wall’s descent was gentler, its surface was covered with layer upon layer of accumulated slippery moss from countless years. Thorny trees and creeping grasses grew in wild profusion, reaching above people’s heads. Over a hundred men formed several columns, holding torches for illumination, connected front to back by vine ropes to prevent falls. They searched for footing and descended step by step with great difficulty. After spending the entire night, near dawn, they finally reached the valley floor and found their way around to the area where the cliff fall had occurred.
Chen Lun followed Shu Shenhui closely, standing at the valley bottom, holding up a torch and looking around.
The fire on the opposite mountain peak still hadn’t died out, with smoke and flames filling the sky. Only after descending did they understand how treacherous this cliff section was. From the middle section downward, it suddenly curved inward, appearing from the side like a drawn bow. The precipice was ten thousand ren high, and under the smoke-wreathed sky above, it appeared to pierce the heavens, looming oppressively overhead. The valley floor seemed to have been untouched by human presence since ancient times, with towering ancient trees everywhere and vines growing around the cliff walls in deadly silence.
Liu Xiang had already led men to begin a grid-pattern search, starting from the most likely area below the cliff head, digging three chi deep into the ground, then expanding the range. Half a day passed. Near noon, they finally discovered broken branches and some remaining bloodstain traces among the canopy of a massive tree near the cliff base. Subsequently, they found a piece of azure-colored cloth stained with blood that had been blown there by the wind, several dozen zhang away. Beyond this, they found nothing.
According to what the two guards had said, the color matched exactly what the Princess Consort had worn when she went out hunting. Yet there was no sign of the person. They couldn’t find the Princess Consort, nor any trace of that Chi Shu. They didn’t know whose blood had been left behind—the Princess Consort’s or Chi Shu’s?
At noon, thick smoke had not yet dispersed from the cliff top above, and clouds and mist gradually arose, shrouding rocks and blocking walls. The light below remained dim, while burned grass and wood ash carrying residual heat continued pattering down from the air like falling rain, blown by the wind.
Shu Shenhui held that piece of torn clothing in his hand, his expression taut and extremely grim.
Chen Lun suppressed his inner unease, hesitated, then spoke to console him: “Your Highness needn’t worry excessively either. From the looks of it, falling here, she should have been cushioned by tree branches. The person should be largely unharmed—this is good news. The Princess Consort is exceptionally brave and also clever. Even if that Chi Shu was fortunate enough not to be killed by the fall, nothing should happen to her…”
While these words sounded like consolation for the Regent Prince, they were equally meant to comfort himself. Falling from such heights, any change in body position or wind direction during the descent could alter the landing location.
Truthfully speaking, being caught by ancient tree canopies would indeed be quite fortunate. Moreover, that person might not necessarily be the Princess Consort…
Shu Shenhui said nothing.
“Your Highness! General Liu has made a discovery ahead!”
Suddenly, a soldier came running to report. Shu Shenhui immediately abandoned Chen Lun and rushed forward.
A ground fissure had been discovered in the valley, with an underground river below. The water surface was over ten zhang wide, and judging by sight, the water was quite deep, flowing silently and slowly in hidden currents. No wonder they couldn’t hear any sounds from outside.
Near the underground river, several hounds they had brought down caught scent of a few drops of spilled blood and began barking toward the water’s surface.
Liu Xiang divided his men into two groups. One followed the water flow’s outlet direction, searching along the banks, while the other group consisted of those familiar with water, including himself—about ten men total. They entered the water from where the bloodstains were discovered to search underwater simultaneously with those on shore, just in case.
He led the ten or so men to remove their boots and outer garments, entered the water, and slowly moved forward with the current, diving and surfacing repeatedly. Dark currents surged underwater, and light was dim, making searching difficult. Shortly after, several men with lesser swimming abilities began struggling to continue. Those on shore also gained nothing. Chen Lun only had moderate swimming ability and stood on shore waiting anxiously. Looking toward the Regent Prince, he saw him gazing down at the green, shadowy water surface, suddenly raising his hand to remove his crown and untie his belt. He knew the Regent Prince was an excellent swimmer who had often swum across the Wei River during youthful outings. Seeing this, he understood the intention.
He rushed forward, knelt, and tightly embraced his legs: “Your Highness, absolutely not! This place is not the Wei River! Your Highness’s precious person—how can you risk such great danger? Even if Your Highness killed this subordinate today, Chen Lun would not dare let Your Highness go down!”
Shu Shenhui couldn’t break free. His eyes showed fierce intensity as he kicked Chen Lun away. Chen Lun rolled and fell, sitting on the ground.
“Do you wish to place me in an unrighteous position? Living, we must see the person; dead, we must see the corpse—this is the minimum accountability. Otherwise, how can I face Jiang Zuwang?” Before finishing these words, he cast off his outer garment, leaped with his whole body, entered the water, and disappeared.
Chen Lun was burning with anxiety, wishing he could follow down as well. He got up from the ground and nervously stood guard on shore. He watched as Shu Shenhui and the remaining people in the water slowly moved downstream with the current—surfacing, resting briefly, diving again, surfacing again, diving again. After repeating this over ten times, nearly another half day had passed. Evening was approaching, and the light on the valley floor grew increasingly dim. Including him, everyone was exhausted, and with the unbearable cold, they could no longer continue. They could only stop searching one after another and come ashore.
When he surfaced for the final time, he sat on a wild stone by the shore, his entire body dripping wet from head to foot, face pale, teeth chattering slightly from the cold. Chen Lun lit a fire nearby for warmth and quickly brought clothes for himself, Liu Xiang, and the others. At this time, those who had gone farther along the shore also sent news—still nothing found.
Everyone’s mood was heavy, holding their breath and not daring to make a sound.
He said nothing, his gaze fixed on the leaping flames of the fire, motionless.
Chen Lun looked at his figure, heavy as stone, not daring to offer further consolation. He only handed over a warmed flask of wine, saying quietly: “Your Highness, please drink a few sips to warm yourself…”
Suddenly, at this moment, a sharp sound faintly drifted into his ears. The sound was extremely brief and weak—after one note, it disappeared. At first, he thought he had misheard. He looked at Liu Xiang opposite him, who also suddenly looked up toward him with questioning eyes, seeming uncertain and seeking confirmation. As the two men’s eyes met, the sound that had just disappeared entered their ears again.
This time, though the sound remained distant, it became clear and sustained, seeming to alternate long and short in cycles. It appeared to come from the direction of the cliff wall they had left behind.
Not only that, but Chen Lun also recognized what it was…
“Deer whistle!” he exclaimed.
This was something everyone carried during hunts, either for commands or mutual positioning. Such alternating long and short sounds were precisely the signal typically used to indicate a call for help during imperial hunting activities.
Shu Shenhui, sitting on the stone, suddenly leaped up. Standing and listening intently for several breaths, he turned around and immediately ran in the direction of the whistle sound. Everyone followed him back toward the original valley area. Midway, the deer whistle sounded intermittently several more times, then disappeared and could no longer be heard.
Shu Shenhui’s face showed urgent anxiety. He pushed himself harder, accelerating through the pathless valley, leaping up and down among the crisscrossing ravines and cliff stones with flying steps, leaving Chen Lun and the others far behind as he rushed back beneath that cliff wall.
He stopped, panting slightly, then looked up and surveyed the surrounding peaks. The area remained shrouded in clouds and mist, with no sight of the sky. He called: “Lady Jiang!”
His call resonated between the valley floor and mountain walls, echoing with a humming sound that startled the birds that had fled here to escape the mountain fire. They flew out from the branches, circling and flapping above the ancient treetops in agitation.
“Princess Consort!” he called again.
“Jiang Hanyuan—”
He gathered his breath for the third time and called loudly. After the echo faded, for a moment it seemed in response, suddenly, another deer whistle sound came, only it sounded weak, as if lacking strength, cutting off abruptly.
Chen Lun, Liu Xiang, and the others had also caught up and heard this sound, their eyes all lighting up.
They could confirm this sound came from directly overhead, from somewhere on the cliff wall above.
“The Princess Consort should be right up there! Have men immediately lower ropes—I’ll go up to look!” Liu Xiang said at once.
“Let me go instead! General Liu, you stay below and guard.”
Chen Lun was younger than him and knew he had old military injuries from past years. Naturally, such tasks shouldn’t fall to him. He sounded a whistle, and those guarding above heard and responded with whistle calls. Then, slowly, they lowered a long rope twisted from multiple old vines. Just as Chen Lun was preparing, he suddenly heard several subordinates beside him call, “Your Highness must not!” Turning to look, the Regent Prince had already gathered up his robes, stepped forward to grasp the vine rope, tested its strength, gripped it with both hands, leaped with his body suspended in air, swung out, then steadily planted both feet on the rock wall before using the rope to climb upward.
Chen Lun had been kicked by him earlier for trying to prevent him from entering the water—truly his first such encounter in life. Seeing him ascend again now, how dare he say another word? He could only stand below with Liu Xiang and the others, watching intently. He climbed higher and higher until his figure entered a mass of clouds and mist, gradually disappearing from view. Liu Xiang remained below while Chen Lun hurried back up the descent route to provide support.
Jiang Hanyuan was indeed sheltering in a crack on this cliff wall that could barely accommodate two people standing upright.
At that moment, when she had turned around and leaped down without hesitation, the resolute determination in her heart suddenly made her think of her mother’s state of mind that day. Why had she preferred to take her and fall from the cliff rather than live in shame? If it were her, she would never want to become a tool for enemies to use for humiliation and threats. Her head was struck hard by a rock during the rapid descent, nearly causing immediate unconsciousness, but her body still clearly felt the pain of being scraped by sharp cliff rocks and the thorny vines growing on them. Driven by the desire to survive, she quickly regained consciousness.
Her mother had protected her with all her might and thrown her forcefully, harboring hope that she might by chance survive. She had also promised her subordinates at Qingmu Garrison that she would return to share the same robes with them, living and dying together. And also…
In that lightning-swift instant, her mind also conjured the scene from their wedding night—before the brilliant courtyard torches bright as daylight, the carriage door slowly opening, and the face of the man who extended his hand toward her, helping her down from the carriage.
He represented Great Wei, and she had married into Great Wei.
She absolutely could not die like this and turn this marriage alliance she had willingly fulfilled into a matter of resentment.
Her countless experiences of leaping from Iron Sword Cliff in the past gave her assistance in seeking survival this time. As her body rapidly tumbled down the steep wall, she tried with all her might to control it, striving to slow her descent and prevent it from flying completely away. She stretched out her arms, spread her palms, and used her hands to grasp any place she could cling to—protruding parts of the rock walls she passed, and the vegetation and vines growing on them. After several successive failures, just when she felt herself suddenly suspended in air and about to plummet straight down, the tremendous power burst forth by her survival instinct enabled her to successfully catch hold of a protruding rock ledge and tear down a cluster of old vines that had grown there for years. The vine branches she brought down were about to snap at any moment, but fortunately, they temporarily halted her fall. She quickly climbed along them and finally managed to climb up, pressed against the cliff wall, stepped on places where she could find footing, and slowly moved until she found this crack that could shelter her.
After the danger passed, she discovered that she was injured from head to foot. Even her calloused palms were bloody and mangled. Especially her left leg—there was a long wound torn by rocks that was causing her body to lose large amounts of blood. She tore her clothing to bind it herself, but her hands shook so badly that she couldn’t even hold the cloth corners steady, and they were swept away by the fierce wind on the cliff wall. Finally, she managed to bind the leg wound and pressed down on it with all her strength until it slowly stopped bleeding. By then, she was completely exhausted. She hadn’t eaten much for several days, and with excessive blood loss, she couldn’t support herself. She had intended to lean back and rest briefly to recover her strength as quickly as possible, but once she closed her eyes, she fell completely unconscious.
Perhaps it was because of that experience of being nursed by a mother wolf in her childhood, or perhaps her desire to survive was too intense. She was like a tenacious little poplar rooted deep in the frontier earth—she would never die easily. She had slowly awakened just moments ago. The wound on her leg had also clotted and no longer bled.
She judged that it was now the second day. As long as Chi Shu’s group retained half a measure of sanity, they couldn’t possibly still be lingering here.
Now she was positioned halfway up the cliff wall, seriously injured and weak in her limbs. Trying to go up or down by herself would be nothing short of a fool’s dream.
She thought again of that man who had smiled and helped her down from the carriage that night.
Never mind that in the end that night, he had flown into a rage and spoken coldly to her before abandoning her and leaving. But as long as he learned she hadn’t returned for so many days, he couldn’t possibly ignore it. Right now, in all of Great Wei, the person who least wanted her to die should be this Regent Prince. If she died, wouldn’t his schemes come to naught? How would he account to her father? He would certainly send people to search for her.
She remembered she still carried a deer whistle, so she took it out and used all her strength to send a distress signal. This was what Chen Lun and Princess Yongtai had told her during their earlier hunting expedition together.
She had intended to keep blowing it, but after several blows, she discovered she was so weak she didn’t even have the strength to puff her cheeks and blow the deer whistle continuously. After just a few blows, she felt dizzy, and her neck seemed unable to support her head’s weight. She could only stop and conserve her energy.
She closed her eyes, tilted her head slightly, and leaned into that cliff crevice. Slowly, another wave of fatigue struck, and just as she was about to doze off again, hazily she seemed to hear a voice reach her ears.
Lady Jiang?
She thought vaguely, Who is this?
Then it seemed that the calling voice changed to Princess Consort?
Princess Consort… who is that again…
“Jiang Hanyuan—”
When this voice struck her eardrums again, she was suddenly startled.
Yes, that was her!
She also fully awakened and recognized this voice. It was none other than the man she had married, Great Wei’s Regent Prince, Shu Shenhui.
He had come to search for her?
Although Jiang Hanyuan understood why he valued her to such an unexpectedly high degree, at this moment, hearing her name spoken from his mouth, his deep voice echoing throughout these surrounding mountains and deep valleys with waves of reverberation, she still couldn’t help but suddenly feel her heart tighten, nearly bringing tears to her eyes.
She quickly steadied herself, blew the deer whistle again in response, then listened intently to the sounds outside the cliff wall.
Accompanied by the increasingly near pattering sounds of loose stones being stepped on and falling, she blew the deer whistle once more to give the other party a hint of her location.
Almost at the same instant, a human figure flashed in front of the mountain wall. Someone swung over, both feet landing steadily in the rocky crevice before her, and the person then stopped in front of her.
He had come up himself.
She looked at him, supporting herself against the narrow rock walls on both sides, slowly and painfully using all her strength to stand up, striving to maintain an appearance of good spirits.
Even in such circumstances, fallen into this wretched predicament where she was forced to need assistance, she still habitually hoped to present herself in the best possible condition.
Just as in the military, no matter how much her injuries hurt, she would never show the slightest sign of pain in front of Yang Hu and the others.
She finally straightened her body, looked at the man opposite her, and said in as steady a voice as possible: “Thank you, Your Highness, for risking danger to fetch me. You must have been searching for me with great effort these past days. This is my fault. In the future, I will be doubly careful and will certainly not cause Your Highness such trouble again.”
Shu Shenhui gripped the rock wall, steadying his form that was swaying in the strong wind. Both feet stood on this narrow crevice that could barely accommodate him and her face to face, looking toward this woman opposite him—his married Princess Consort.
Her hair and face were covered with a layer of vegetation ash. Her lips showed not a trace of color, her clothing was torn, and her entire body was stained with blood marks everywhere. Only those eyes that were looking at him remained clear and distinct, still allowing him to recognize some trace of her former appearance.
He had just breathed a slight sigh of relief, but unexpectedly, the first words he heard from her were an apology to him. For some reason, this suddenly made him feel somewhat annoyed.
“How are you?” He suppressed the irritation in his heart, nodded faintly, and asked.
“I’m not seriously harmed…”
Before she could finish speaking, she suddenly felt another wave of slight dizziness and leaned her back against the cliff crevice. When the dizziness passed, she looked up to see him approaching to bind her waist with a rope. She knew this meant he was going to take her up, so she stood still and silently let him work. He tied the waist rope for her, tested its security, then removed his outer garment to wrap around her before extending an arm to encircle her waist.
Jiang Hanyuan felt he intended to hold her while ascending and instinctively twisted slightly to avoid him. “I’m truly not seriously hurt. Having rope around my waist is sufficient…”
“Silence!” he snapped, his tone harsh.
Jiang Hanyuan fell quiet.
Shu Shenhui then secured a vine rope around his waist, connecting them. One arm wound tightly around the vine rope while the other firmly embraced her. He struck the rock wall several times with his scabbard, the sound traveling upward. Those waiting above all exerted force together, using a felled round log as a temporary winch to slowly wind the rope, assisting his continued upward climb. Finally, he successfully reached the top with Jiang Hanyuan, and both of them pulled up together.
His physical exertion must have been considerable. After reaching the top, he couldn’t stand immediately and lay on the ground for a moment. When his breathing stabilized somewhat, he rose, called for someone to bring a water flask, fed her a few sips, then used his blade to cut the bindings on both their bodies. He said quietly, “You’ve lost too much blood, and it’s nearly dark. Find a place to spend the night first, tend to your wounds, rest for one night, and return tomorrow.”