Did she know what it felt like to drown in the ocean?

That feeling of grasping at nothing, death on every side, and the sudden dread of possibly being swallowed by a shark — that was Hua Chun’s true state of mind right now.

She was a little angry. The palace was Yuwen Jie’s territory — why was it so unreliable, always leaving people on edge! If she managed to escape this alive, she would absolutely give him a good scolding. Really, no backing down this time!

Countless flashes of sword light chased after her from behind. Hua Chun felt her legs going weak — the moment she thought of what He Chang’an might be facing behind her, her whole heart turned cold.

Eyes closed, running forward, shoving aside anything she bumped into, Hua Chun was giving it everything she had — but was still caught up to, a blade slashing across her right hand.

“Ah!” A bloodcurdling scream.

Yuwen Jie had just returned to Purple Chen Hall and hadn’t even sat down yet when he felt an inexplicable chill down his back and couldn’t help but glance outside.

“Eunuch Qin.”

“Your servant is here.”

“Did the Marquis Gongyu and the Prime Minister make it out of the palace safely?”

Eunuch Qin startled and immediately sent someone to find out.

“Zichong.” The Emperor frowned. “Go check on them.”

“Yes.” The imperial bodyguard Huo Zichong acknowledged and immediately took up his blade and left.

The plaster cast on her right hand had shattered halfway; the pain was no different from breaking the bone all over again. Tears streaming, Hua Chun couldn’t help kicking out and cursing: “Don’t you people know to respect the disabled? My hand’s already broken and you still hit it — have you no conscience at all!”

The three chasing her froze for a moment at her thunderous shout, momentarily forgetting to move.

Hua Chun wiped her face and looked at them sternly: “I really didn’t want to fight anyone — after all, when my master taught me martial arts, he told me not to kill. But now you people are forcing my hand!”

With that, she drew a taiji bagua shape in the air with both hands, eyes narrowed coldly, aura surging around her.

The three assassins jumped, backing away several steps, watching her warily.

There was an unusual disturbance in the air, killing intent radiating everywhere. Even the weeds on the palace wall seemed affected, bending toward where she stood.

This wasn’t an ordinary person — the assassins tensed, resolved to fight to the death, eyes fixed on Prime Minister Hua’s movements, wary of a sudden attack.

Wind stirring, cranes crying.

Hua Chun took her time building tension, narrowing her eyes at them, and finally shouted: “Watch this!”

The assassins hastily raised their blades in defense, gathering their strength, some even closing their eyes.

Victory or defeat rested on this one move!

But after waiting a moment, nothing seemed to happen. The assassins looked up — the passage ahead was empty, and a figure had already dashed dozens of feet away.

“Stop right there!”

The assassins, who normally prided themselves on chasing silently, were enraged, shouting loudly as they gave chase.

Hua Chun shouted as she ran: “You tell me to stop and I’ll actually stop? Are you stupid or am I? If you’re going to act tough and not run, that’s asking for trouble!”

She hadn’t expected these black-clad men to be so easy to fool. Since they weren’t running, what better time than now?

Furong Palace was just ahead — she could already see some palace guards in the distance. Hua Chun was practically sobbing as she cried out: “Help—”

Huo Zichong had just arrived, frowned, and drew his blade, striking at the man behind Hua Chun.

The men in black stopped there and had already begun turning back, when the Prime Minister — who had been running faster than a rabbit — suddenly turned and lunged, tackling the last man in the group to the ground.

Seeing this turn of events, the remaining two abandoned their companion and fled without a trace.

“Prime Minister!” Huo Zichong hadn’t expected such quick reflexes from her, delighted. “Hold him down!”

Hua Chun poured every ounce of strength she had left into it, elbowing the man beneath her again and again on the forehead: “Serves you right for breaking the law! Serves you right for carrying blades and killing people! Come at me again, you bastard!”

The assassin had had plenty of energy left to run, but after being tackled half to death and then beaten mercilessly, he immediately went still.

Huo Zichong led the guards over to seize the man, then hurried to help Prime Minister Hua up: “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, go save the Marquis quickly!” Hua Chun’s whole body was trembling. She grabbed Huo Zichong’s wrist: “Come on, I’ll take you there.”

“Prime Minister.” Huo Zichong frowned at her. “You should head back to Purple Chen Hall first — I’ll go save the Marquis myself.”

“Don’t argue!” Hua Chun turned and ran off immediately.

If they wasted time talking, she was truly afraid He Chang’an wouldn’t survive.

On the way back, she kept thinking that the kind of “hero saves the damsel and falls in love” plotline in TV dramas really was terribly clichéd — but now, recalling He Chang’an’s words, her heart ached with a bittersweet sting.

“If I stay, there’s still a chance of survival. If you stay, you’ll die for certain.”

He had only left himself a single thread of hope, all so that she could live. If something really happened to him this time, she supposed she’d end up like those foolish, innocent female leads, remembering him for the rest of her life — perhaps never marrying.

Well, that was something of a bargain, actually — this body of Hua Jinghua’s had originally been intended to never marry anyway.

Looking at the abandoned palace ahead, hearing no sound at all, Hua Chun couldn’t even manage a joke anymore, pressing a hand to her chest as she walked in.

Traces of the fight still remained, but there wasn’t a single body on the ground. She widened her eyes, ran in to search, then searched the nearby halls too.

Nothing.

“He’s gone!” Hua Chun panicked, grabbing Huo Zichong. “What do we do? The Marquis is gone!”

Huo Zichong frowned: “Prime Minister, go back and report to the Emperor. I’ll bring men to search this area further.”

“Alright…” Her mind blank, Hua Chun stumbled along with a few guards back toward Purple Chen Hall.

Who had taken him? What would happen to him? He Chang’an knew martial arts — it hadn’t even been the time it takes for an incense stick to burn down yet, surely he wouldn’t have been killed. Male leads usually had plot armor — He Chang’an should have some too!

Nothing would happen, for sure. Nothing would.

Muttering this to herself over and over, Hua Chun made her way into the rear hall of Purple Chen Hall.

The moment Yuwen Jie saw her, he frowned: “What happened to you?”

“Your Majesty!” Hua Chun threw herself forward, looking up at him. “The Marquis has been taken!”

The Emperor froze.

Tears welled up rapidly in his eyes, crystal clear, like a stream breaking free and cutting a path downward.

Instinctively reaching out to catch them, the scalding drops landed in his palm.

“Zichong should have gone looking for him,” Yuwen Jie said, staring blankly at his own hand. “Chang’an knows the layout of this palace well, and his martial arts aren’t weak either. You don’t need to worry this much — this isn’t the first time.”

“How can I not worry!” Hua Chun stamped her foot anxiously. “With that many men in black, even one slash from any of them could kill him!”

The Emperor looked up, glanced at her hand, and frowned. “You should look at yourself first — you’re bleeding.”