The wind and rain were too fierce for Eunuch Qin to hear clearly what he’d said, but the guards around them all inexplicably grew tense, the sound of blades being drawn rising from every direction.
His dragon robe soaked halfway through by the rain, Yuwen Jie raised a hand in discomfort.
“Your Majesty?” Eunuch Qin called out, signaling a halt, instinctively scanning the surroundings before looking back at him. “The rain is too heavy—you should hurry to the rear hall.”
“Can’t get there anymore.”
A low voice rang out through the rain as the Emperor rose from the palanquin, gazing at the pitch-black path ahead. “If we keep going forward, my head might not stay attached to my neck.”
Startled, Eunuch Qin quickly turned his head.
A silver thread glinted, stretched taut across the air. If not for the light of the palace lanterns, no one would have seen it at all.
“Protect the Emperor!”
Eunuch Qin’s shout was unnecessary—the guards nearby had already rushed forward. The silver thread on the wall wasn’t fixed—it suddenly whipped down toward them.
Yuwen Jie frowned, dodging sideways to avoid it, and shoved Eunuch Qin, who had no combat skill at all. “Go get help.”
This wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed a scene like this. Though his legs felt weak, Eunuch Qin still scrambled swiftly toward the back.
The clash of blades rang out in the rainy night, jarringly loud. Yuwen Jie badly wanted to join the fight, but the guard captain Huo Zichong shoved him back, only managing to give him one anxious glance before returning to the melee.
Too many attackers had come. The Emperor absolutely could not take the risk.
Realizing this, Yuwen Jie didn’t act rashly and ran straight for the front hall.
The palace had a guard post every ten steps, yet strangely, not a single imperial guard was encountered along the entire route.
How interesting indeed.
Footsteps quickly sounded behind him. Cursing under his breath, Yuwen Jie swiftly rounded a covered walkway, and seeing the front hall pitch-black and silent ahead, he thought for a moment and dashed toward the side hall instead.
“Growl—”
Her stomach growled, and Hua Chun looked pitifully toward the door. This rain kept getting heavier—when would she finally get to go back and eat? Madam Wan must be worried by now.
She got up to check by the door, and saw that the front hall, which had been brightly lit moments ago, had now gone completely dark. Hua Chun blinked in surprise, frowning slightly.
She was still here—it wasn’t as if the palace was short on candles. How could the palace attendants extinguish the lights the moment the Emperor left? By the rules, shouldn’t they wait until everyone had left the front hall of Zichen Hall first?
She shrugged, figuring she must have watched too many palace intrigue dramas. People could put out the lights whenever they pleased—she should just be grateful they hadn’t extinguished the lamp in her own side hall.
The rain was too heavy, and the entrance was already soaked through. Hua Chun shivered and reached out to pull the hall door shut.
A hand suddenly reached in from outside, and just as she was about to close the door, it clamped over her mouth!
Ah!
Hua Chun very much wanted to scream, but the intruder was far too quick—giving her no chance to cry out at all, sweeping her up and into the room, shutting the door behind them.
The lamp in the side hall went out immediately as well.
What was going on? In the darkness, Hua Chun’s eyes went wide, her nose filled with the fresh scent of rain. Her back seemed to be leaning against the intruder’s chest, solid as stone.
“Mmph—”
“Quiet.” Yuwen Jie gritted his teeth, whispering.
It was the Emperor?! Hua Chun was momentarily stunned. Outside, a bolt of lightning flashed, and she caught sight of Yuwen Jie’s profile.
Truly handsome… no, this wasn’t the time to admire his face. She frowned, looking at him curiously. Why would the esteemed Emperor come rushing to her quarters in such a bedraggled, soaked state?
Outside, numerous shadowy figures were cast against the carved lattice door by the flash of lightning. Yuwen Jie’s grip tightened, and he immediately pulled her up.
“Stand still, don’t make a sound. If even a peep comes out, I’ll wipe out your entire household!”
Hua Chun was stunned—that was quite the domineering thing to say! She hadn’t even had time to understand what was happening, hadn’t even gotten her bearings yet!
Before she could react at all, Yuwen Jie grabbed her around the waist and tossed her upward, then pushed off the ground and leapt onto the rafters himself, reaching down to catch Hua Chun as she began to fall.
A scream lodged in her throat, and she forced herself to swallow it back down. Was this acrobatics or what?! Far too dangerous! The side hall might only be a small resting room, but the rafters were still a good ten feet up—did this man have springs in his legs?
And also, where did he get that much strength, to actually throw her all the way up here!
Clinging to the beam in lingering fear, she got a mouthful of dust for her trouble. Yuwen Jie frowned, looking outward, and instinctively reached over to cover her mouth again.
Dark figures soon entered the room. Hua Chun held her breath, watching as these people, all dressed in black, made her instantly understand.
They’d run into assassins.
These assassins were something else—actually forcing the Emperor up onto the rafters. Didn’t he usually have plenty of guards around him?
About four or five people milled about below, silently searching every corner of the room. Hua Chun closed her eyes, not daring to look further, afraid that if she kept watching, one of the people below might look up and she’d scream out loud, getting her whole family executed.
So she buried her head firmly against Yuwen Jie’s chest.
Yuwen Jie didn’t look down either, resting his head against the top of Hua Chun’s head. Someone in the palace had been bought off—no imperial guards would appear anytime soon. If he were discovered now, it would certainly mean a bloody battle. Setting aside whether he himself would die or not, someone spineless and unskilled in martial arts like Hua Jinghua would certainly die. If she died, it would be like losing one of his own hands.
So, he couldn’t act rashly and fight them now. He had to wait.
Because he’d run quickly earlier, the pursuers had no idea which part of Zichen Hall he was in, so they’d only given the side hall a cursory look, and seeing no one, withdrew.
His body relaxed slightly, and Yuwen Jie was about to say something when he caught a strange, milky fragrance in his nose.
Looking down, he saw Hua Jinghua held in his arms, her body thin and small, even more slender up close than she appeared from a distance. And rather than the scholarly scent he’d imagined, what came from her body was instead a soft, sweet, milky fragrance.
He shivered, and the look he gave her grew even stranger.
The room fell silent, only the sound of rain outside remaining. Hua Chun opened her eyes, looked up, and saw Yuwen Jie pointing at his own mouth.
Could they talk now?
He nodded and spoke softly. “Speak less, quietly.”
She understood that much—if anyone overheard, it wouldn’t be good. But still, she was quite curious. “How could there be assassins in the palace?”
In TV dramas, the palace guard was always so tight—even if assassins did appear, shouldn’t a large group of guards rush over immediately? Why was he cooped up here without a sound?
“Don’t play dumb.” The Emperor glanced at her, displeased. “Prince Xi is in the palace.”
Prince Xi? There’d been no backstory on this—how was she supposed to know? Hua Chun felt wronged.
But it seemed unwise to ask further. She could roughly guess—within the imperial family, all the scheming and hidden daggers were for the sake of the throne.
“Growl—”
Her stomach growled again. Hua Chun rubbed it a little, embarrassed, just about to apologize, when she heard the exact same sound rumble from the man’s stomach behind her.