“?”

The person behind her spoke unhurriedly, his tone composed and calm, his consideration seemingly sincere.

For a moment, Jiang Zhiyi wondered if she had judged his thickness of skin with excessive malice. She calmly reassembled the previous exchange in her mind.

This Princess fancies your…

Me? This subject fears he cannot give himself to the Princess.

…She was right to judge his skin as thick as city walls, wide enough for horses to gallop across!

“I…” Jiang Zhiyi pointed tremblingly to the side, “I fancy your sword! Your sword!”

Another rustling sound came from behind as Yuance put on his outer garment, fastened his leather belt, and methodically clasped his wrist guards as he stepped forward: “Didn’t the Princess just complain about the sword’s stench?”

“Am I not allowed to mention the smell?”

“You may,” Yuance walked to the table and moved aside the rose chair Jiang Zhiyi had brought, “But this subject may also refuse to give the Princess the sword.”

All this talk of “this subject,” yet was this how a subject should behave?

Jiang Zhiyi pressed her lips together in restraint, then turned to look at the sword again.

On the black wood rack, the precious sword remained sheathed, its scabbard gleaming coldly with blue and silver hues intermingling. The tiger pattern relief on the sheath was exquisitely carved, and the pommel was inlaid with premium pure Gobi black jade—it certainly appeared to be the most presentable among the pile of “scrap metal.”

Having already lost face and suffered an insult, she was now determined to obtain this sword today.

Yuance sat in his chair, picked up the teacup meant for Jiang Zhiyi, and gazed at her impassively, as if waiting for her to leave in humiliation.

Jiang Zhiyi stared back at him coldly, her eyes meeting his while her hands moved behind her back, signaling to Jing Zhe.

After a moment of shock, Jing Zhe quickly composed herself, quietly removing something from her sleeve and placing it in Jiang Zhiyi’s palm.

Then Jiang Zhiyi extended three fingers.

Two.

One.

Jing Zhe suddenly turned and pushed open the scabbard.

Jiang Zhiyi turned her back, raised her hand, and with one swift motion, cut her braid.

Yuance’s teacup paused at his lips.

Jiang Zhiyi gazed at the severed braid in her hand and exhaled deeply. At an angle where the person behind couldn’t see, she passed the remaining braid to Jing Zhe, casually shook her hand, and turned around nonchalantly: “Now, this Princess no longer desires your sword either.”

With that, she nodded slightly to indicate her departure, lowered her veil, and gracefully walked out of the tent.

“…”

Yuance held the teacup, glanced at the unsheathed sword, then slowly shifted his gaze downward, blinking calmly at the two strands of hair drifting gently through the air.

“The Princess didn’t see it, but Young General Shen was completely stunned by you!” Back in the city, in front of the Marquis of Yong’en’s mansion, Jing Zhe helped Jiang Zhiyi down from the carriage.

Jiang Zhiyi’s lips curved as she boarded the mansion’s sedan chair, leaning back lazily with a hand warmer: “We left rather hastily. We should have stayed to enjoy the view a bit longer.”

Seeing Jiang Zhiyi in rare good spirits, Jing Zhe chatted cheerfully with her as they entered. As they passed Huifeng Courtyard, a dejected figure suddenly appeared around the bend.

Jiang Zhiyi’s smiling face immediately turned cold.

Fang Zongming seemed to have just left Madam Zhong’s chambers. With both hands wrapped in his cloak and a worried expression, he ambled out unsteadily. Upon seeing Jiang Zhiyi’s sedan chair, he stumbled as if his feet were working against each other. His face, already as pallid as chaff, grew even ashen, completely devoid of yesterday’s smug demeanor when he had looked at her as if she were already in his pocket.

Jiang Zhiyi, sitting higher in the sedan chair, cast a cold glance down at him, seemingly frightening him.

Fang Zongming’s gaze darted around, and without even a greeting, he fled down a side path like someone in panicked retreat.

As the sedan chair continued forward, after passing Huifeng Courtyard, Jing Zhe whispered: “Princess, judging by the Young Master’s appearance as he left Madam’s chambers, they must have guessed that you took the sachet.”

Jiang Zhiyi tugged at the corner of her mouth: “With that little courage, let them guess.”

Jing Zhe laughed along: “Now that the remedy has been broken and the evidence is in your hands, and your letter to the Marquis has been sent, isn’t it natural for the Young Master to react like a mouse seeing a cat? Now it’s their turn to lose sleep and appetite. Princess, you should just focus on what to have for dinner tonight.”

“That ghostly military camp didn’t freeze me to death, so let’s have hot pot with lamb soup tonight, prepare some fresh fish, and serve it with Linglu Jiang,” Jiang Zhiyi tapped her fingertips thoughtfully, “Oh, and invite the chef from that newly opened restaurant in Changxing District. I heard even Imperial Uncle praised their dishes.”

“Shall we also invite some musicians and dancers to add to the enjoyment?”

“Excellent,” Jiang Zhiyi swept her sleeve with high spirits, “Arrange it all.”

While Jiang Zhiyi was enjoying peaceful days, Huifeng Courtyard seemed to be plagued by misfortune.

For several consecutive days, servants passing outside the courtyard tiptoed by without daring to linger, fearing they might trigger Madam’s wrath.

It was said that the Young Master had fallen ill with a cold. Physician after physician was summoned, even Imperial Physicians from the palace had come to examine him. Medicinal soups were sent in like flowing water, yet the Young Master’s high fever persisted without any sign of improvement.

Madam wept daily, lamenting that her son had been born with a weak constitution, destined for a short life. She wondered what sins she had committed in her previous life for Heaven to punish her and the Fang family in this manner.

The entire Marquis of Yong’en’s mansion was immersed in sorrow, as if mourning banners and white silk would be hung the next day. Only the western Yaoguang Pavilion remained detached from the world, filled with music and song night after night. Musicians, dancers, and opera troupes came in successive waves, creating a uniquely lively atmosphere.

“This servant heard the outer courtyard servants gossiping that Madam has been furious these past few days. With the Young Master in such a state, not only have you not visited him, but you’ve also had people playing music and singing constantly, as if fearing the Young Master might not depart quickly enough…”

—That afternoon, Jing Zhe spoke to Jiang Zhiyi about the mansion affairs.

Jiang Zhiyi reclined leisurely on the beauty couch in the warm chamber, gently stroking the raccoon dog in her arms: “If Aunt is so angry, why hasn’t she come to reason with me?”

“How would they dare?” Jing Zhe smiled before composing herself, “This servant thinks the Young Master doesn’t have a cold at all. He discovered his scheme was exposed and lost his nerve like a guilty thief. What good are medicinal soups? Since Madam is so superstitious about witchcraft and evil magic, she might as well invite a great shaman to call back his soul! If he truly cannot recover, it’s merely the consequence of their evil deeds!”

Some word caught her ear, and Jiang Zhiyi lost interest in others’ affairs. She sat up straight and asked: “All this talk has made me hungry. I sent Gu Yu to buy some pili fruit. Why hasn’t she returned after so long?”

At the head of Changxing District street, Gu Yu held a food box in each hand. As she turned to go left, the one-eyed old Taoist in front of her stepped left to block her. When she changed direction to go right, the old Taoist blocked right, effectively preventing her from reaching the carriage.

“Old sir, I’ve told you, I don’t want my fortune told, nor do I seek divination. If you don’t let me pass, I’ll call for help!” Gu Yu scolded angrily.

“Young lady,” the old Taoist held a divination banner in one hand while stroking his long beard with the other, “This poor Taoist won’t take your silver. I merely notice the darkness between your brows, fearing you may encounter disaster soon. I only wish to warn you out of kindness!”

“If you keep blocking me now, I truly will face disaster!” Gu Yu glanced at the sky, growing more anxious. She quickly sidestepped the man and hurried toward the carriage.

“Young lady, this poor Taoist sees that someone in your household has received the blessing of the Three Pure Ones, surviving a calamity, yet has not personally gone to pay respects and fulfill their vow at the deity’s statue. They may face divine retribution!” the old Taoist shouted after her.

“What traveling charlatan is this? I am the only one left in my household, so I fear no retribution from you!” Gu Yu turned to glare at him. Just as she was about to lift the curtain and board the carriage, she suddenly froze.

“Is it truly only you? Perhaps the young lady should reconsider…”

“Oh no…” Gu Yu remembered something and hastily jumped into the carriage, instructing the driver, “Quick, back to the mansion!”

The following morning, in the suburbs of the capital.

As dawn barely broke and the cold mist had not fully dispersed, Jiang Zhiyi was napping on a small couch inside the rumbling carriage.

Yesterday, when Gu Yu returned from the street, she relayed the words of a traveling Taoist. Only then did Jiang Zhiyi recall that after breaking the curse, she had indeed neglected to add incense and oil money at the Taiqing Taoist Temple, seemingly disrespecting the Three Pure Ones.

But wasn’t divine retribution for this a bit too harsh?

With this in mind, she lost interest in the revelry of song and dance. With nothing to do last night, Jiang Zhiyi took out *The Tale of Yi Yi* again and, enduring the torment of the “Shen Yuance” character in the story, carefully examined what the female protagonist did after consulting the oracle at the Taoist temple.

After reading, she decided to follow the example and rise early to visit the Taiqing Taoist Temple to complete this ritual propriety.

However, having grown accustomed to sleeping until late morning recently, she found it hard to adjust to rising early. As soon as she boarded the carriage, she fell asleep.

Seeing the person on the small couch with furrowed brows and a sweaty forehead, apparently amid some dream, Jing Zhe dampened a handkerchief and approached.

Before she could wipe her forehead, Jiang Zhiyi suddenly opened her eyes wide: “…A-Ce gege!”

Jing Zhe was startled. She wanted to ask if Jiang Zhiyi had experienced a nightmare, but before she could speak, she was taken aback—

“???”

What… what “gege”?

Jiang Zhiyi breathed rapidly for a few moments, staring blankly at the carriage ceiling, then abruptly sat up.

“Princess?”

“Where am I…” Jiang Zhiyi looked around in confusion.

“On the way to the Taiqing Taoist Temple. Princess, did you dream of… Young General Shen?”

Jiang Zhiyi’s expression gradually changed from bewilderment to shock, disbelief, and unacceptance: “…What did I just call out?”

“You called out A-Ce…”

Jiang Zhiyi jolted and raised her palm to stop her, took a deep breath, and stiffly pointed at the teacup.

Jing Zhe quickly offered the tea.

Jiang Zhiyi took it and began rinsing her mouth.

Ptui, ptui ptui!

It was all because the female protagonist in *The Tale of Yi Yi* had a background and experiences so similar to her own, and the male protagonist was modeled after Shen Yuance. After reading it over and over, she had been brainwashed into the story. Just now, she had dreamed of becoming Yi Yi, that character whose mind was filled only with thoughts of her lover, constantly calling “A-Ce gege” and speaking sickly sweet words.

In the dream, she had waited painfully for three years, finally welcoming her lover back from the border, only to discover he didn’t recognize her upon meeting, as if he had completely forgotten her…

Jiang Zhiyi raised her hand, shocked to find her eyes moist.

The heartbreak and despair of being abandoned in the dream felt too real, and even the scene mirrored exactly her encounter with Shen Yuance at the teahouse during his triumphant return.

Thinking back now, she found it difficult to distinguish between reality and dream…

Jiang Zhiyi shook her dizzy head, stopping her recollection, and asked Jing Zhe: “After I finished reading yesterday, where did you put that storybook?”

“This servant thought the storybook might cause trouble, so it’s better not to take it out carelessly. I locked it in the book chest for you.”

“Burn it as soon as we return, burn it to ashes, best if nothing remains!”

“This servant will remember.”

Jiang Zhiyi rubbed her aching temples, feeling top-heavy after the dream. She rested against the cushion to recover for a moment, then asked: “Where are we now?”

“Still some distance from the Taiqing Taoist Temple…”

Before she could finish, a shrill horse’s neigh pierced the air. The carriage came to an abrupt halt, and Jiang Zhiyi cried out as she pitched forward.

Jing Zhe barely managed to steady her and urgently called outside: “What happened?”

“It’s a horse trap! Bandits! Protect the carriage!”

The guards outside all drew their swords, and the clashing of blades immediately filled the air.

“…How could there be bandits in the outskirts of the capital, right under the Emperor’s feet?” Jing Zhe lifted a corner of the carriage curtain to look outside and saw a group of bandits wielding large blades swarming toward them, quickly surrounding the carriage.

Inside, the furnishings were in disarray, with broken items scattered on the floor. Jiang Zhiyi gasped, still recovering from the shock.

Before she could regain her senses, there was a dull “clang” as a large blade came flying, the carriage wheel collapsed, and the vehicle toppled with a crash.

Jiang Zhiyi was thrown against the carriage wall, her head hitting it with a solid thud.

“Princess! We can’t stay in the carriage. We must get out!”

A spinning pain left Jiang Zhiyi momentarily dazed. She frowned in agony, watching Jing Zhe’s mouth open and close but unable to hear a word. In this confused state, she was pulled out of the carriage.

Her feet touched the uneven mountain path, surrounded by withered yellow vegetation on all sides.

Jiang Zhiyi was huddled among the guards, like a drifting duckweed. She felt as if heaven and earth had turned upside down, and everyone around her appeared as blurry, shaking shadows.

Her head felt heavy, her feet seemed to step on cotton, and her ears felt stuffed with cloth. The shouting around her, though physically close, sounded as if it came from across a mountain.

Amid flashing blades and swords, Jiang Zhiyi was pulled along by Jing Zhe, dodging left and right. She vaguely heard Jing Zhe shouting in her ear about something behind the slope, about running over there.

Jiang Zhiyi squinted, looking in the direction Jing Zhe pointed, and saw a high slope.

Golden sunlight spilled over the mountaintop, illuminating the forests and dissolving the frost on the withered grass.

Among the tall grass, a figure seemed to be seated high on horseback, quietly overlooking the skirmish below.

Judging by the figure’s bearing, he didn’t appear to be one of the bandits.

Yet the gaze he cast down seemed as cold and unmoved as if watching a colony of ants.

As guards fell one by one around her and the encirclement grew tighter, Jiang Zhiyi stared dazedly at that figure before being roughly pushed by Jing Zhe.

“Princess, behind the slope is… quick, go seek help…!”

With her foggy head, Jiang Zhiyi took a moment to process this message before staggering toward the slope.

The mountain path and trees before her swayed continuously, and the morning sunlight cast a hazy glow around the young man in dark clothes on horseback, making him appear as ethereal as if in a dream.

The sound of boots behind her drew closer with each step. Jiang Zhiyi clutched her racing heart, gasping for breath as she called upward: “Help… help…”

The young man on horseback turned his head.

His handsome features aligned perfectly with the face from her recent dream.

Jiang Zhiyi finally understood—Jing Zhe had meant that behind the slope was the Xuance Army’s camp.

“Shen, Shen Yuance…” Cold wind rushed into her throat and lungs, causing her to cough until stars appeared before her eyes. Jiang Zhiyi struggled upward, her head growing heavier and her steps more unstable. Just as she approached the mounted figure, her knees gave way, and she collapsed heavily to the ground.

Jiang Zhiyi painfully raised her head, tried to speak, but couldn’t produce a sound. Looking at the dark garment just within reach, she painfully lifted her hand and grabbed a corner of the robe as if clutching at a lifeline.

The mounted figure frowned, lowered his gaze, and his eyes fell lightly on the top of her head. His distinct-jointed fingers gently pinched the corner of the robe and slowly pulled it back.

The snow-white hand was once again cast into the mud.

At that moment, the pursuing bandits caught up.

Jiang Zhiyi felt a despair reminiscent of her recent dream. Lying on the ground, she turned her head in panic to see the bloody blade, and finally lost consciousness.

Before losing awareness, only one thought remained in her mind—

If she died here today, even as a ghost, she would never forgive Shen Yuance…!