Music and celebration filled the air, and the entire Shen household was overjoyed beyond words.

When Zhang Xingjian appeared at the Shen residence, it confirmed that the young emperor truly meant to marry Shen Qingye. Everyone in the Shen family, except for the distracted Shen Zhuo, was moved nearly to tears with excitement—

The Shen family had suffered ill fortune in recent years.

They had finally boarded Chancellor Kong’s ship, deploying the Longyou army without imperial order, only for Chancellor Kong to die and the war to end in defeat.

The young emperor had shouted that he wanted the generals executed; if the Shen family hadn’t gritted their teeth and pushed Shen Qingye forward, the entire family would have been condemned by that confused young emperor.

But now things were different.

Once Shen Qingye became empress, the Shen family would rise to unimaginable heights—who wouldn’t be tempted by such overwhelming fortune?

Now only one step remained—once Shen Qingye entered the palace and was formally crowned empress, once the ceremony was complete, the Shen family’s worries could finally be laid to rest.

Zhang Xingjian, led by the master of ceremonies, passed through the red corridors and green pavilions.

As chancellor, he wore his purple ceremonial robes that day, an embroidered sash across his chest and a wide belt at his waist. This young chancellor, whose face and bearing were both refined and elegant, appeared at the Shen residence, and for a moment the onlookers were struck dumb, thinking that with such looks and bearing, he seemed less like someone come to receive the bride on the young emperor’s behalf, and more like the groom himself.

And then, recalling Zhang Xingjian’s former betrothal to Shen Qingye…

For an instant, even the ceremonial music seemed to turn strange.

Zhang Xingjian stood before the chamber of the empress-to-be and glanced inside.

The onlookers wondered: with what feelings was Chancellor Zhang sending the woman he loved off to another man’s side?

Even dressed in ceremonial robes, Zhang Xingjian still carried himself like the picture of a modest gentleman. Only his face, calm and handsome, looked far healthier now compared to the pale, weak look he’d had while nursing his illness.

Zhang Xingjian, who had set everyone’s imagination running, spoke up: “To prevent any error in the ceremony, before we leave the Shen residence, I must check that the empress’s attire is correct.”

Everyone froze.

The empress-to-be, dressed in her ceremonial robes and pearl-crowned veil, sat properly on the couch.

What was Chancellor Zhang trying to check?

Zhang Xingjian walked toward the screen, toward the empress-to-be.

This was the first time the Shen family had a daughter marrying an emperor, and being a family of military background, they were unfamiliar with such protocols. They vaguely felt something was off, but for now could only watch, stunned, as Zhang Xingjian went first to see the bride.

The Shen family, naturally confident that they had dressed the empress-to-be exactly as the palace matrons had instructed, weren’t afraid of Chancellor Zhang’s inspection.

Sitting on the couch, Shen Qingwu tensed. The moment Zhang Xingjian spoke, she could hear his footsteps drawing closer, step by step.

What, was he already suspicious?

Shen Qingwu’s hands, resting on her knees, clenched. Through her veil, her lowered gaze caught sight of Zhang Xingjian’s black shoes approaching.

He stopped three steps away from her and fell silent.

Shen Qingwu said nothing.

Zhang Xingjian spoke slowly: “Forgive me, Fifth Miss Shen. To ensure the ceremony proceeds without error, I must inspect you before His Majesty does. I mean no offense.”

He bent down, reaching to lift the veil.

At that very instant, the bride suddenly stood up.

Zhang Xingjian froze, watching in astonishment as the bride rose abruptly, tangled her feet in the trailing, phoenix-embroidered hem of her skirt, and pitched straight into his arms.

The bride leaned against his chest. Zhang Xingjian’s breath caught, and his eyes flickered once or twice.

He reached out to catch her waist to keep her from falling. But in that same moment, the screen dividing the room from the outside crashed to the floor, and Zhang Xingjian heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him.

Zhang Xingjian fell silent.

He didn’t need to turn around to know that everyone at the door had just witnessed him holding the empress-to-be in his arms.

The bride in his arms leaned against him, not moving at all.

Shen’s mother clenched her teeth so hard with suppressed fury they nearly cracked: “Zhang Yuelu!”

The palace matrons and wedding attendants rushed forward at once, pushing Zhang Xingjian aside, putting distance between him and the bride, and steadying the empress.

The empress-to-be waved her hands timidly at them, looking delicate and shy—a manner that resembled the usual Shen Qingye not even fifty percent, if even at all.

Zhang Xingjian watched in silence.

Amid the commotion, the matrons comforted the empress, then turned back with forced smiles and said to Chancellor Zhang, “Don’t worry, my lord, we already checked everything beforehand. The empress’s attire is fine. The auspicious hour is nearly upon us—let’s hurry and set out, lest we keep His Majesty waiting.”

Zhang Xingjian lowered his eyes.

He gave a silent smile.

He seemed rather helpless. “Very well.”—

Shen Qingwu was safely seated in her palanquin, and through the beaded, jade-adorned curtain, she watched Zhang Xingjian swing up onto his horse, sitting tall and proud.

She felt faintly pleased with herself.

She sneered inwardly: what a fool, Zhang Xingjian.

Zhang Xingjian suddenly turned his head, looking toward the curtained palanquin.

Shen Qingwu’s heart clenched for a moment; she almost suspected he could see her. But that was impossible—separated by the curtain, and with his martial skill nowhere near hers, how could he possibly spot her at a glance?

Zhang Xingjian said, “Your Highness the Empress, have you truly thought this through—are you certain you wish to enter the palace?”

He said softly, “If Your Highness wishes to change your mind, there is still time now—”

Shen Qingwu, seated in the palanquin, ignored him.

The other court officials accompanying Zhang Xingjian to receive the bride paled, nearly frightened to death: “My lord!”

—Such words could not be spoken carelessly!

If overheard by someone who didn’t know the truth, they might think the chancellor intended to run off with the bride and make a fool of the young emperor.

Zhang Xingjian sighed, smiled, and reassured his colleagues.

Shen Qingwu sat calmly in the palanquin, her mind beginning to run through her assassination plan.

Once they left the Shen residence, a fine spring rain was falling, moistening everything anew.

The ceremonial music turned lively, and the honor guard opened the way ahead. Shen Qingwu spent a while going over her assassination plan, and finding no gaps in it, let her mind wander as she watched Zhang Xingjian’s back.

He seemed to have grown much thinner.

But a handsome man was always blessed either way—frailty had its own beauty, and refined elegance had its own beauty too. This man, whose back was as slim and upright as a crane’s, if he really were her new husband…

Shen Qingwu’s heart pounded suddenly, several times in a row.

Out of habit, she pulled her wandering mind back—and it was precisely this habit of stopping herself from thinking wild thoughts that made her notice something: the road to the palace was wrong.

This wasn’t the way to the palace.

They were circling round and round the outer walls of Dongjing, following the Bianliang River, moving farther and farther from the imperial city with every turn… Shen Qingwu had grown up in Dongjing since childhood. How could she not recognize this?

Shen Qingwu’s eyes narrowed, her gaze fixed on Zhang Xingjian as if it could bore a hole through him.

In that instant she knew—their plan had been leaked, or Zhang Xingjian had guessed it.

She also understood at once why he had wanted to inspect the bride—if she hadn’t quick-wittedly thrown herself into his arms, using the motion to knock the screen down with a flick of her fingers, she would surely have been exposed by Zhang Xingjian before they’d even left the house.

But fortunately, in today’s scheme, Shen Qingwu was merely the assassin. She was the one carrying out the plan; there were plenty of others behind her working against Zhang Xingjian.

So Shen Qingwu simply stayed calm, sitting in her palanquin, watching to see how Zhang Xingjian would stall for time.

A line of horsemen cut in from the street corner, Chang Lin among them.

Chang Lin slipped into the procession, glanced once at the palanquin where the empress sat, and brought his horse alongside his young lord, telling him in a low voice: “My lord, the situation is bad—you’d better go back to the estate. They’ve disguised themselves as beggars and are besieging the Zhang residence.”

Zhang Xingjian smiled. “Let them attack, then.”

Chang Lin said, “There are so many of them! More and more people are surrounding the Zhang estate. My men fought them and found they’re either highly skilled fighters or trained in military drill… every single one of them!”

Zhang Xingjian frowned slightly.

He turned his head for an instant, his gaze complicated as he glanced at the palanquin.

Chang Lin continued urgently at his ear: “With so many skilled fighters besieging the Zhang estate, we cannot let it fall—Marshal Bo is being held there. Whether they rescue Marshal Bo, or reveal, if things go badly, that Marshal Bo is actually the Zhang family’s eldest son… either way, the situation turns against us.

“My lord, you cannot manage things over here anymore. You need to come back with me and personally oversee the Zhang estate. We cannot let them find Marshal Bo.”

Zhang Xingjian murmured, “How many men?”

Chang Lin gave him a number.

Zhang Xingjian was startled.

That number was far too large. Over these past months, the movement of people in and out of Dongjing hadn’t shown any obvious change, which meant the other side had been holding this force in reserve all along. Zhang Xingjian had already calculated in his mind that even if they meant to help Shen Qingye escape today, they couldn’t possibly deploy that many people.

But now, this number nearly matched the number Chang Lin had just given for the forces attacking the Zhang estate.

That meant every enemy they had let slip into the city was concentrated there. Which meant here, there was only one person—

Over here, the one carrying out the plan was a single person!

One person against a thousand soldiers… did she not want to live?!

Zhang Xingjian’s gaze turned icy, fixed on the palanquin.

Inside the palanquin, Shen Qingwu felt, for an instant, that Zhang Xingjian’s gaze piercing through the curtain was like a blade’s edge, carrying a trace of anger.

Shen Qingwu straightened her back, bracing for a fight.

But Zhang Xingjian swallowed his anger back down.

Crimson-tinted rain fell onto his long, delicate black lashes. His eyes, clear as still water, stayed fixed on the palanquin for a long while.

Zhang Xingjian withdrew his gaze and instructed Chang Lin, and the other officials accompanying him: “Something has come up at my family’s estate. I must go ahead. Gentlemen, please continue on to the palace gate with the new empress, and wait there for me.

“Tell His Majesty—the chancellor is absent, and for any reason whatsoever, the ceremony must not begin early.”

Zhang Xingjian, staring at the palanquin, said word by word: “To ensure the ceremony proceeds without error, please ask His Majesty not to approach the empress by even a single step.”

The several young ministers watched Chancellor Zhang ride off with courteous, respectful deference, envy stirring in their hearts.

Shen Qingwu, seated in the palanquin, had exceptionally sharp hearing, and caught their discussion—

“When will we ever be made chancellor?”

“Chancellor Zhang is fine in every respect, except he’s rather eccentric and far too domineering. If the ceremony can’t proceed without him, and word of this reaches His Majesty’s ears, he’ll be furious again.”

Shen Qingwu dug at her ear.

Furious?

Excellent—

The ministers stood alongside the young emperor in the cold rain, waiting together for Chancellor Zhang’s return.

Shen Qingwu, seated calmly in the palanquin, counted the great mass of heads gathered before the palace gate, sitting patiently along with them.

The atmosphere grew tense.

The young emperor’s expression grew more and more impatient.

At this critical moment, a signal arrow suddenly rose into the sky at the horizon with a sharp crack—like part of the ceremonial rites, yet the moment that sound rang out, Shen Qingwu in the palanquin sat up straight at once.

Shen Qingwu pitched her voice higher, lifted the hanging curtain, and called to the elderly palace matron who had accompanied her the whole way: “Matron, if the chancellor doesn’t return, must I never enter the palace at all?”

The matron looked troubled. “Your Highness, please wait a little longer…”

Shen Qingwu spoke softly, unable to squeeze out actual tears, forcing out two choked sobs instead: “The rain keeps falling, and Matron, you know my health isn’t good—I don’t think I can bear much more of this… could you ask His Majesty to come, so I might have a word with him, to plead with him?”

The matron, of course, hoped the future empress could win the young emperor’s heart.

The matron went to fetch the young emperor. Though he wasn’t standing in the rain himself, he too had grown increasingly irritated from waiting. The auspicious hour for the crowning ceremony had already been missed once—if it was missed a second time, what authority would he have left as emperor?

Could this be Zhang Xingjian giving him a taste of his own power?

Could Zhang Xingjian be telling him that even once he ascended the throne properly, he still wouldn’t be allowed to do as he pleased?

The young emperor’s face grew darker and darker. The ministers around him coughed, trying to offer a word of caution, only to have him wave his hand and have them dragged off for a beating. Amid this oppressive atmosphere, the matron came to fetch the young emperor, saying the new empress requested his presence.

The young emperor leapt to his feet at once. “I’ve wronged Qingye…”

A young minister nearby coughed again.

The young emperor pretended not to hear, and strode toward the ornate palanquin.

A minister hurried after him: “Your Majesty, the chancellor said it would be best if you didn’t approach the new empress…”

The young emperor flew into a rage: “The chancellor said, the chancellor said! He’s nothing but a chancellor! I could depose Kong Ye, I can depose Zhang Xingjian too! I am the one ruling this empire—I don’t need anyone teaching me how!”

The young emperor’s steps quickened, and when he caught sight of the shadowy figure of the beauty behind the palanquin curtain, half his soul seemed to fly out of him.

The young emperor murmured to himself, “Qingye, I’ve come. I made you wait so many years… it was my fault.”—

Zhang Xingjian, Chang Lin, and the other guards rode swiftly on horseback, galloping through puddles in the driving rain.

The battle at the Zhang estate was already arranged; the moment that signal arrow shot into the sky, Zhang Xingjian knew something was about to happen on the young emperor’s side.

Yang Su and the other soldiers, along with the assassins of “Qin Yueye,” were all focused on the Zhang estate—which meant the backup plan on the young emperor’s side could only be Shen Qingwu, alone.

Truly mad!

There was no way Zhang Xingjian hadn’t arranged countermeasures, no way he hadn’t stationed people to protect the young emperor. It was true that a highly skilled fighter had their own plan. But even if it was easy for Shen Qingwu to strike, with that thick head of hers, had she even thought about how she’d get out afterward?

How dare she stand against him?!

Hooves pounded through the rainwater.

Rain soaked the sleeves of Zhang Xingjian’s robes.

Drawing closer and closer to the imperial city, Zhang Xingjian’s heart wound tighter and tighter—

The horses rounded a long alley and entered the grand imperial avenue.

The blue-gray flagstones were pounded thick by rain. The assembled ministers stood in a dark mass before the palace gate, drenched in the downpour. Beyond them, the palace guards stood at attention with their weapons. Further out still, palace guards lay in ambush behind the walls of the common houses and among the trees.

So many guards, all to ensure the young emperor’s wedding proceeded smoothly!

And as Zhang Xingjian rounded the alley, he saw the young emperor standing right in front of the new empress’s palanquin. The young emperor was bending down to speak to the person inside, lifting the hem of his robe as if about to climb in.

Zhang Xingjian’s voice rang out sharply: “Your Majesty!”

His voice, raised rarely and sharply, in a tone unusually stern, startled the reckless young emperor into stumbling backward, shrinking away, and turning to look toward Zhang Xingjian.

And Zhang Xingjian watched, wide-eyed, as the palanquin’s curtain was suddenly, violently thrown open in that same instant.

A woman stepped out.

A snow-white dagger plunged, without the slightest hesitation, into the young emperor’s heart.

The veil fell away, revealing twelve jeweled hairpins and a pair of small ribboned sashes—precisely the ceremonial attire of an empress.

Beneath the glittering pearls and jade, tassels swayed against the woman’s profile. Her features were lovely, her makeup refined, but she was clearly, clearly…

The young emperor collapsed into a pool of blood.

The matrons surrounding the palanquin cried out in shock: “You’re not Fifth Miss Shen! Who are you!”

The ministers erupted in fury: “Your Majesty, Your Majesty… someone, quickly, His Majesty has been attacked!”

The palace guards rushed inward at once.

Zhang Xingjian, still on horseback, was at the farthest possible distance from the palanquin. The hand gripping his reins had gone white, as he watched the woman on the palanquin stand upright and begin tearing off the ceremonial robe she’d clearly worn with growing impatience.

Beneath the robe, the woman revealed a black, tight-sleeved martial outfit. She yanked the hairpins from her hair and flung them outward, forcing back the guards rushing fastest toward her.

Among the ministers, someone finally recognized her: “Shen Qingwu… Shen Qingwu! Someone, come quick, she’s, she’s with the Yizhou army, she’s the Imperial Princess’s agent… guards, guards, stop her quickly!”

Shen Qingwu leapt down from the palanquin, dagger in hand, meaning to deliver a second strike to the young emperor.

An arrow shot toward her from midair, blocking her plan.

Shen Qingwu glanced once at the young emperor, trembling in his pool of blood, already being surrounded by others. A eunuch stammered, trembling: “H-how dare you!”

Shen Qingwu had no time to speak with them.

One strike, guaranteed to land—dead or wounded, she knew exactly the force and angle of that dagger thrust.

Completing the task itself hadn’t really been difficult.

What was difficult… was how to escape from beneath the crushing weight of a thousand soldiers.

How to break free from the layered trap Zhang Xingjian had set.

Shen Qingwu’s gaze went straight to Zhang Xingjian, at the outermost edge of the crowd.

She threw him a single provoking look, then withdrew it, focusing on the fight.

Chang Lin, right behind Zhang Xingjian, could barely breathe: “How dare she, how dare she!”

Chang Lin could already picture Shen Qingwu thrown into prison, tortured, interrogated…

Zhang Xingjian turned his horse and said coldly: “Go.”—

Shen Qingwu’s group’s plan had always been for her alone to carry out the assassination, with the others buying her time and opportunity.

“Qin Yueye” wasn’t just there to support them—they also needed to help Shen Qingye and Qiujun escape Dongjing.

Once news of the assassination attempt spread, the gates of Dongjing began locking down one by one. Anyone trying to leave the city would inevitably be hunted down by the palace guards.

According to the plan, Yang Su and the others were only responsible for getting themselves out of the city—they didn’t need to worry about Shen Qingwu.

Whether Shen Qingwu lived or died was not something they needed to concern themselves with.

As for Shen Qingwu, after the assassination, she faced a direct pursuit by thousands of palace guards. What made it worse was that the number of guards kept increasing… clearly, no one was willing to let the assassin of the young emperor go free.

If the young emperor didn’t die, the assassin would have to die; if he unfortunately died, the ministers present would demand the assassin be made to answer for it even more.

When Zhang Xingjian had first mobilized the palace guards, they’d been reluctant—their superior wasn’t the chancellor, so why should they obey a chancellor overstepping his authority to move troops? But now, with the rain pouring down like a curtain, everyone understood the situation demanded it: they had to capture Shen Qingwu, to give the realm an answer.

Shen Qingwu fought continuously.

But today’s battle was, without question, the hardest she’d ever fought.

Escaping the palace gate wasn’t the finish line—it was only the beginning. The streets and alleys were filled with soldiers hunting her down. How was she to escape at all?

Fortunately, she’d grown up in Dongjing since childhood, and had been a wild, untamed girl no one had ever properly reined in. She knew the streets and alleys of this city intimately.

Naturally, she had no wish to end up in the imperial prison.

Of course she wanted to escape the city alive.

The rain seemed to be growing heavier.

Vaulting over a wall into a narrow alley, Shen Qingwu stumbled slightly as she landed, and immediately spotted a dozen or so palace guards with their backs to her in the alley. Her hand, gripping the dagger, trembled; she held her breath, waiting for these ten-odd men to turn and spot her.

Her mind raced desperately, trying to figure out how to escape past a dozen men without alerting anyone else…

They would use signal arrows to communicate, and so would the palace guards. If even one of them spotted her, Shen Qingwu would be in grave danger.

Rain blinked into Shen Qingwu’s eyes.

Shen Qingwu pressed herself against the wall, watching the guards ahead begin to turn around, pacing back and forth…

Suddenly, a hand reached from behind and covered her mouth. Her elbow instinctively snapped backward, meaning to bring down whoever had ambushed her. But this person seemed to know her fighting style with unusual familiarity—her elbow struck nothing, and the kick she aimed a moment later hit nothing either.

A chill went through Shen Qingwu’s eyes.

Just as she was about to fight with everything she had, her nose suddenly caught a familiar scent, clear and cool as moonlight.

And it was in that one moment of distraction that she found herself dragged, mouth covered and waist held, deeper into the alley, toward a pile of stacked baskets.

At the same time, Shen Qingwu heard Chang Lin’s familiar voice from beyond the alley: “Shen Qingwu is here, this way!”

The footsteps of the guards outside were immediately drawn away.

Deep in the alley, Shen Qingwu was pushed against a wall, her wet hair clinging to her neck, both hands pinned against the wall to keep her from striking again.

Zhang Xingjian pressed against her.

His damp purple ceremonial robe pressed against her black martial outfit; the robe was heavy, weighing muffled and thick against her, and Shen Qingwu felt the burden of it pressing on her.

Shen Qingwu found herself thinking, even now: being chancellor was truly pitiful. Having to wear such elaborate robes—once it rained and the water soaked through, it must be crushing that frail body of Zhang Xingjian’s.

Seeing that she wasn’t struggling, and had no intention of making a sound, Zhang Xingjian finally released the hand covering her mouth.

He leaned against her, looking at her pale, bloodless face, at her jet-black eyes.

Zhang Xingjian said softly: “What tremendous nerve, coming alone into Dongjing to kill the young emperor. Have you no regard for your life?”

Shen Qingwu looked at him and said nothing.

His gaze, stern at first, began to flicker under the intensity of her dark eyes; he began to avoid her gaze briefly, then looked back again.

His expression shifted through too many things in that single instant.

Shen Qingwu didn’t notice any of it.

But as he stood pressed against her, the look he finally settled on was one of profound complexity.

There was only the soft patter of rain, and quiet breathing. Rain fell into both their eyes as they gazed at each other, and neither spoke.

Shen Qingwu could tell he had no intention of killing her.

Her wrist, pinned against the wall, shifted slightly, a reminder to him: if you’re not going to act, don’t waste time—let me go.

Zhang Xingjian lowered his eyes, lost in thought for a moment.

He made up his mind, stepped back, and took hold of her wrist.

Zhang Xingjian said, “Come with me.”

Shen Qingwu didn’t move.

Zhang Xingjian turned back and told her, his voice gentle: “There’s a route out of the city—one I originally arranged for Qingye and the others… follow me, and you can leave through that same gate too.”—

Shen Qingwu was led by Zhang Xingjian, pulled along through the winding streets and alleys.

He was nowhere near as familiar with this place as she was.

Shen Qingwu watched coldly as he took wrong turns again and again, nearly leading them both straight into the hands of patrolling guards more than once.

And yet Shen Qingwu said nothing.

She looked down at the bones of his hand, gripping hers tightly—his wrist pale and thin, without a trace of flesh left on it.

A year ago… when he’d held her, there had still been some softness to him.

Now, though… he no longer looked as good as he used to.

Shen Qingwu began to think: once she got out, what would happen to Zhang Xingjian?

Would the whole mess fall onto his shoulders? Would he have to cover for her, bear the pressure alone? Whether the emperor lived or died, Zhang Xingjian would be branded a criminal either way…—

Zhang Xingjian led her to a very small opening in the wall, barely larger than a dog’s hole, leading out of the city.

He pulled her to hide behind an alley, tucked behind a centuries-old scholar tree.

Zhang Xingjian pointed toward the waist-high clump of weeds ahead: “There’s a gap there. I’ve never let anyone repair it, just in case… go out that way.”

Zhang Xingjian turned his head, wanting one last look at her.

But before he could even fully turn, the back of his neck was struck hard by the person behind him.

Shen Qingwu, repaying kindness with betrayal, caught the unconscious young lord in her arms as he fell—

Two days later, an exhausted Yang Su finally shook off the soldiers pursuing him.

To evade capture, their forces had scattered, each taking a different path. Yang Su had no time to check whether the other brothers had escaped safely; his first priority was to head to a ruined temple two li from Dongjing.

This was the signal he and Shen Qingwu had arranged beforehand.

If Shen Qingwu managed to escape, she was to meet him there. If she didn’t show up, it meant she hadn’t gotten out, and Yang Su would have to find a way to rescue her.

Yang Su had sworn to Shen Qingwu that he would never abandon her.

But Yang Su had no real confidence in his own promise—a promise was a promise, but Shen Qingwu hadn’t said a word in response at the time. He didn’t know whether she’d taken his words to heart, whether she trusted him at all.

At dusk, Yang Su dragged his feet, stumbling toward the ruined temple.

From a distance, he saw a bonfire burning in the dim light, and hope filled his heart.

Yang Su rushed into the ruined temple, keeping his voice as low as he could manage, afraid of an ambush: “A’Wu!”

Sure enough, in the temple courtyard, a bonfire was burning, and crouched beside it, gathering firewood, was a disheveled woman, filthy and streaked with blood and dust, her face barely recognizable—it was Shen Qingwu.

Shen Qingwu crouched on the ground, tossing firewood into the fire absentmindedly.

Though her clothes and face were both covered in blood, and though her expression didn’t look good at all, she was alive!

Yang Su was nearly moved to tears: “A’Wu, you made it out, that’s wonderful…”

Shen Qingwu came back to herself and glanced up at him.

Shen Qingwu was frowning.

Yang Su realized Shen Qingwu was troubled by something—someone as straightforward as her wore everything on her face.

Yang Su immediately reached for the blade at his waist, straightening his back, ready to fight: “What’s wrong? Are you in trouble?”

Shen Qingwu said, “…There is, actually, one difficult matter.”

Shen Qingwu brushed the strands of hair stuck to her cheek aside, stood up irritably, dusted the dirt off her hands, and turned to lead Yang Su into the temple—

A moment later, Yang Su and Shen Qingwu stood side by side before a wooden door, and saw the young lord sitting inside on the straw.

The young lord sat cross-legged, calm and composed as though posing for a painting, utterly unlike the battle-worn Shen Qingwu.

Yang Su thought, now that’s real presence.

Even fallen on hard times, he still had the good looks of some noble young gentleman down on his luck.

But—no matter how good-looking he was, he was still…

Yang Su startled backward a step, gripping the doorframe, and lowered his voice: “Shen Qingwu, have you lost your mind? Why is Zhang Xingjian here?! You smuggled him out of Dongjing? You—you—you—at a time this dangerous, how can your head be full of nothing but men and women!”

Shen Qingwu thought he’d chosen his words poorly.

But…

Shen Qingwu really was troubled.

Shen Qingwu peered through the door at the young lord inside, feeling irritated, and told Yang Su: “My mind went blank at the time, I don’t know what came over me, I don’t know what I was thinking… by the time I came back to my senses, I found I’d already smuggled Zhang Yuelu out.

“What now? Am I supposed to send him back? Wouldn’t that be even more dangerous?”

Yang Su: “…”

Shen Qingwu: “…”

The two of them stared at each other, at a complete loss for words.