Bao Zhu’s donkey had been hit by darts and was taken to the stables for poison extraction and treatment, temporarily unable to move. She hurried out of the flower hall and called Steward Pang to request a mount, wanting to temporarily return to the inn for an inspection. Steward Pang immediately arranged this, sending four servants to accompany her, and Shisan Lang also threw down his plate of sesame treats to follow.
Everyone heard someone cursing loudly from the other side of the wall, apparently having their horse forcibly taken by someone. Their faces all showed mocking smiles.
After these two rode off one after the other, whipping their horses toward Lingbao County, finally escaping the annoying feeling of being watched all day, the Setting Sun Academy members finally breathed a sigh of relief. Thinking of the Blue-Robed Guest’s panicked flight, they began laughing in various tones—some shrill, some sinister, some ruthless—drawing many uncomfortable looks from those around them.
After laughing their fill, Huo Qi Lang again urged those who had lost the bet to pay up with gold. Xu Baozhen readily paid, but Tuoba Sanniang refused. After fiercely downing several cups of wine, she suddenly said: “If we extend the bet until tomorrow, I might not necessarily lose.”
Knowing her extremely competitive nature and unwillingness to admit defeat even in small matters, Huo Qi Lang laughed: “Young people’s relationships probably won’t have any major breakthroughs in a single day and night.”
Tuoba Sanniang said: “Certainly not if left alone. But that little sick cat has been poisoned by four or five different toxins. Even dragging his wounded and diseased body into battle, his poison resistance has reached its limit and can’t withstand any more disturbances. If we give him a dose of Heaven and Earth Yin-Yang Harmony Great Pleasure Powder now, he definitely won’t be able to resist. After tonight passes, he won’t be a virgin anymore.”
Everyone was simultaneously stunned to hear that the Lute Sound Demon would go so far as to drug Wei Da with strong medicine just to win a verbal bet. Among the Setting Sun Academy disciples, if they were to compete in audacity, Tuoba Sanniang claiming second place meant no one dared claim first.
Qiu Ren was well-versed in pharmacology. Hugging his arms and pondering for a moment, he made a professional judgment: “Reasonable and feasible, but he’ll definitely guess it was Senior Sister who did it. Aren’t you afraid of retaliation?!”
Huo Qi Lang added: “Senior Brother never lets grudges last overnight. If he’s trapped tonight and can’t break free, tomorrow’s revenge will be even more fierce.”
Tuoba Sanniang continued drinking while secretly assessing the risks of this action. She knew that come dawn, Wei Xun would certainly pursue her to the ends of the earth in a fight to the death. She had just suffered internal injuries a few days ago, and her lute wasn’t working well either. Even if she wanted to flee, she couldn’t do so smoothly. Just to win a bet seemed hardly worth going to such extremes.
Moreover, that deadly brat was always heavy-handed, and involving an innocent girl in private fighting wasn’t her wish either. After today’s battle, with rival suitors surrounding and coveting, his position leading the donkey would constantly face challenges—he wouldn’t get a moment’s peace.
After thinking it through, Tuoba Sanniang finally abandoned this excellent opportunity. Sighing regretfully, she took out gold and settled the account.
Having been schemed against by Third Sister, Wei Xun had no choice but to leap over walls and steal horses, fleeing in panic all the way to Lingbao County. His horsemanship was naturally far less skilled than Bao Zhu’s, and the horse wasn’t his own. Halfway there it refused to obey, and seeing he was about to be caught up, he could only abandon his mount and run frantically on foot.
While watching Pang Liangji and his wife perform their ceremony, he couldn’t help fantasizing about what she would look like when she married. Knowing she was a phoenix pearl, he naturally also knew the vast difference in their status—he couldn’t possibly occupy any position in a wedding procession.
Since she didn’t want to marry, he would definitely mix in with the crowd blocking the wedding carriage, doing everything possible to obstruct it. Whether she was nine years old going to Tibet for a political marriage, or seventeen marrying some noble family that would bury people alive, he would overturn the banquet, break the ceremonial procession, crush the imperial carriage, and forcibly snatch her away from among thousands of people.
As for what to do after snatching her away, he couldn’t imagine, since he probably wouldn’t live to see that time. Moreover, having witnessed her heroic bearing single-handedly fighting the Rakshasa Birds today, perhaps she could lead troops alone to annihilate the Tibetan army and wouldn’t need anyone else’s protection.
Lost in wild thoughts all the way, he finally ran to Taoyuan Inn. With hoofbeats approaching from behind and no time to use the main entrance, he hastily climbed through the window. After landing, he looked around, poured a few drops of water into the inkstone and rubbed the ink stick, creating the appearance of ink not yet dry.
The thundering footsteps coming upstairs were approaching. With no time to prepare anything else, Wei Xun dove into the bed, pulled the covers over himself from head to toe, curled up on his side with only his eyes and brows showing outside. Just as he closed his eyes, she pushed open the door. Though she tried to muffle her footsteps, to his ears they still sounded as loud as a young rhinoceros.
She paused for a while, then tiptoed to the bedside and seemed to crouch down.
Wei Xun was so tense his whole body was rigid, unable to help secretly hoping: Would she treat him the same way she treated the injured Shisan Lang and the sick Old Yang?
From his earliest memories, he knew he absolutely couldn’t show the slightest weakness in front of others. Even when seriously wounded, he had to pretend nothing was wrong, otherwise his position would immediately be challenged and his life endangered. Every day was a struggle for survival—only by maintaining a fierce appearance to suppress all enemies could he ensure safety. When illness struck, he had to be even more careful to hide.
But in front of her, all these iron rules became blurred at the edges. He was willing to show her his vulnerable side, wanted to receive her care and pity, wanted her to hold his hand and touch his forehead, wanted to hear her speak gentle, soft words to him.
He was very clear: she was a victim of conspiracy who had fallen into the martial world—a precious jade fallen into mud. Aside from protecting her, any other behavior would be taking advantage of someone in distress. His promise to help her find her family came from compassion. Having given his word, regardless of chivalrous spirit or righteousness, he absolutely couldn’t reveal the slightest hint of his feelings. He dared not reach out, nor could he reach out.
Precisely because he couldn’t and dared not, he hoped she would take the initiative to approach. This thought was too secret, so secret he was ashamed to admit it even to himself.
Cloth rustled, fragrance approached—every inch of Wei Xun’s skin, every hair follicle became acute with anticipation.
Having been provoked by Tuoba Sanniang’s instigation, Bao Zhu thought Wei Xun had fled midway. She rode hard back to the inn for inspection, but pushing open the door, she saw him still obediently sleeping in bed. Only then did she breathe a sigh of relief, muffling her footsteps as she quietly walked to the bedside, crouched down hugging her knees, and carefully studied him.
In public he was always arrogant, fierce, and unstoppable—sharp as the Rhinoceros Illumination at his waist, ready to cut anyone who saw him. When asleep, his sharpness was restrained, the cold light sheathed like a blade, allowing people to approach.
Having traveled together with the Setting Sun Academy members today and experienced a fierce battle, she now knew the bloody storms of the martial world—whether companions or enemies were all gauging each other’s strength. The slightest retreat could result in blood being spilled on the spot. This was completely different from the court’s strategy of hiding one’s light and planning before acting. Always maintaining a tough stance must be very tiring.
Seeing him sleep peacefully, Bao Zhu unconsciously reached out her hand, wanting to know if the skin of his cheek was as cold as his palms.
However, as she gradually drew closer, somehow she stopped. In the past when facing her younger brother Li Yuanyi, Shisan Lang, or Yang Xingjian—whether young juniors or older subordinates—she could naturally and calmly reach out to care for them. Today, for some reason, though her heart was full of tender feelings, she couldn’t openly touch him.
Her palm halted inches away, rosy clouds rising on both cheeks, her heart pounding. In her dazed state, she could only tell herself she had indeed drunk quite a bit at the wedding banquet and was still feeling the effects. Thinking silently that a master like him would surely wake at the slightest touch, it was better not to disturb him. After hesitating, she quietly drew her hand back.
Feeling an inexplicable embarrassment, Bao Zhu stood up and tiptoed to the desk to look.
The assigned copying had only been done five or six times, and became increasingly sloppy—apparently his injuries couldn’t support more, so he had abandoned his brush to rest. She smiled softly, not angry at all in her heart. The calligraphy practice was originally just an excuse she had found to keep him confined—how could penmanship be achieved in a single night?
Surveying the setting sun’s afterglow outside the window and reviewing the day’s dramatic ups and downs, she still felt her heart surging with excitement.
Bao Zhu picked up the brush, dipped it in the remaining ink, and with dragon-flying, phoenix-dancing strokes wrote eight large characters: “Arrows Never Miss, Vengeance Never Waits.” She unsheathed the dagger Rhinoceros Illumination from her waist and placed it on top as a paperweight, then quietly left the room.
Closing the door, Bao Zhu planned to call Shisan Lang to carefully ask what that treasonous phrase about “overthrowing Great Tang” meant. However, after walking a few steps and leaving that strange atmosphere, her mind gradually cleared. Recalling some details from the room, the more she pondered, the more wrong things seemed.
Only one replacement white inner garment hung on the clothes rack in the room—no blue outer robe or leather belt. While it was reasonable to sleep fully clothed when extremely exhausted, there were no boots under the bed either. How could someone lie in bed tightly wrapped in covers while wearing a complete set of clothing?
Recalling his promise: “Won’t use true qi for two days, avoiding fighting with others.” He only said he wouldn’t use true qi, not that he wouldn’t move—quibbling over words to evade restrictions. What a devious and cunning bad lynx indeed.
Bao Zhu gradually grasped the truth and found it both exasperating and amusing. But with her status and position, she couldn’t possibly go back and forcibly pull off his covers to expose the deception—that would be too embarrassing.
Somehow, being deceived this time actually made Bao Zhu somewhat unexpectedly happy. She thought proudly that if he had personally witnessed her famous battle performance today, he would surely be impressed—the trip hadn’t been wasted.
She’d turn a blind eye and let him feel smug for a while.
Gently shaking her head, Bao Zhu smiled and let it go, then left.
Hearing her footsteps gradually fade away, the intense anticipation finally came to nothing. An even more intense sense of loss swept over him. Silently, a wounded lynx sadly curled up into a ball.