Jiang Ci let out a startled “Ah!” but her voice was quickly muffled by Pei Yan’s lips. She struggled desperately, only to be met with an even more forceful invasion. The earlier gentleness and tenderness, like a spring breeze and rain, had completely vanished, replaced by a violent and angry assault like a raging storm.
Despite using all her strength, Jiang Ci still couldn’t push Pei Yan away. Her clothes were torn off one by one and thrown beside the bed. Extreme fear gave way to intense anger, causing her to bite down hard. Pei Yan grunted in pain and lifted his head from her body, touching his bitten lip.
He ran his finger over his bleeding lip, looked at the crimson stain on his fingertip, and slowly put it in his mouth to suck. He coldly gazed at Jiang Ci, who was glaring at him angrily. Seeing the fury, contempt, and pain in her eyes, Pei Yan chuckled and traced Jiang Ci’s cheek with his finger, saying softly, “So you can bite back. It seems I’ve indeed underestimated you.”
Jiang Ci stared into his deep, dark eyes. Those eyes, so deep and dark, made her heart ache as if being stabbed. This pain dissipated the anger in her chest, and crystal tears slid from the corners of her eyes, wetting the brocade quilt as she turned her head slightly.
These tears momentarily dazed Pei Yan. Outside, the north wind caused the grass hut’s door to shake slightly. He suddenly awoke from his trance, gazing at the face full of sorrow and despair beneath him, and said coldly, “I gave you the antidote, but if you want to leave, it won’t be that easy!” With that, his right hand forcefully tore off Jiang Ci’s last piece of clothing.
Jiang Ci trembled all over, helplessly staring at the grass hut’s ceiling. She felt Pei Yan’s slightly warm lips brushing over her body, his breathing growing heavier, his naked, warm body pressing against hers. She closed her eyes in despair. Deep in her heart, a voice screamed: It’s not true, it isn’t true! How naive she had been. Why are you doing this to me?!
She steeled herself, ready to bite down hard, but Pei Yan was prepared and forcefully gripped her jaw. Jiang Ci’s tears gushed forth, but whether these tears were for this brutality or the truth hidden behind it, she couldn’t tell.
Through her tear-blurred vision, Pei Yan’s face, tinged with fury, drew close. His voice, cold as frost, cut through Jiang Ci’s heart like a blade: “Didn’t you want to escape? Let’s see where you can run to now!” He applied force, and Jiang Ci cried out as her legs were parted. She instinctively reached out with both hands, but Pei Yan’s right hand firmly grasped them, pinning them above her head.
Pei Yan felt the soft body beneath him trembling violently. He hesitated for a moment, but the passion threatening to burst within him gradually clouded his mind, and he slowly lowered his body.
In her desperate haze, Jiang Ci sensed something unusual. With all her might, she turned her head and bit down hard on Pei Yan’s right arm. Caught off guard in his daze, Pei Yan loosened his grip in pain. With her hands-free, Jiang Ci pushed against Pei Yan’s chest with all her strength and kicked with her feet. Pei Yan, enduring the pain in his right arm, forcefully held her down. Suddenly, loud signals came from outside the grass hut – it was the alarm from the Changfeng Guard’s secret agents under attack.
Pei Yan’s mind suddenly cleared, but he wasn’t alarmed. He knew there were nearly a hundred secret agents near this grass hut; unless a large enemy force attacked, no one could break through to this area. He pressed down on Jiang Ci, about to lower himself again when An Chen’s angry shout came. He abruptly raised his head, quickly leaped off Jiang Ci, sealed her acupoints, and pulled the brocade quilt over her.
He hastily put on his outer robe, hearing the signals from the northern mountains growing more urgent – it was the signal the Changfeng Guard used when encountering strong enemies. An Chen’s commands indicated that enemies with extremely high martial arts skills had attacked. Pei Yan’s expression became solemn as he flashed to the window to look outside.
On the northern slope of Baolin Mountain, dots of fire moved rapidly, with occasional shouts, showing that the secret agents were under attack and fighting back. By Baoqing Spring, in the cold wind, An Chen was engaged in fierce combat with a masked person, wielding his sword.
An Chen’s sword moves were like wind and thunder, his form twisting and turning, stirring up layers of snow mist. The masked person he fought wielded a long sword that roared like a dragon and tiger, with powerful sword energy. After watching a few moves, Pei Yan knew this person’s martial arts surpassed An Chen’s and were only slightly inferior to his own. He tied his belt, drew the long sword from the wall, and quickly flashed out of the grass hut, concealing himself behind a large tree.
An Chen and the masked person fought faster and faster, stirring up larger and larger snowballs. Pei Yan saw An Chen’s sword moves being slightly controlled by the masked person’s sword energy, fearing for his life. He quickly broke off a dry branch, using his power to flick it out. The snowball beside the two burst with a “poof.” Pei Yan’s form shot out, his sword flashing cold light, just in time to block the masked person’s killing blow aimed at An Chen.
Seeing Pei Yan arrive, the masked person laughed dully, his sword energy turning back. Pei Yan shouted lowly, his sword techniques flowing endlessly. With continuous clashing sounds, they exchanged dozens of moves in an instant.
Pei Yan felt this person’s sword moves were unpredictable, sometimes domineering, sometimes light and nimble. He was secretly shocked, wondering when such a skilled expert had appeared in the martial arts world. With doubts in his mind, he quickened his movements, his true energy causing his outer robe to billow in the wind. The dragon’s roar was fierce, echoing throughout the foothills of Baolin Mountain. The masked person moved with his sword, like a lone wild goose flitting through shadows, breaking through Pei Yan’s crisscrossing sword energy and darting towards the misty pond surface.
As he flashed away, he broke off a tree branch and shot it towards the water’s surface. His clothes fluttered as he flew like a silver arrow, stepping lightly on the branch to cross the water, like smoke riding the wind, instantly crossing the seven or eight-zhang-wide pond.
Seeing him darting towards the grass hut, Pei Yan’s expression changed. He leaped up over a zhang high, graceful as a startled swan, flashing across the pond surface. Seeing the masked person had already stepped onto the grass hut’s roof, seemingly about to break through the roof and enter, he shouted angrily and threw his long sword like a shooting star toward the masked person.
The masked person flipped backward, avoiding the long sword. His right foot forcefully tapped the ridge of the grass hut’s roof, leaping towards the large tree beside the hut. He shattered the snow on the tree, his form leaping several more times toward the mountains.
Pei Yan jumped onto the grass hut’s roof but didn’t pursue the masked person further. He waved his hand, and An Chen understood, leading over a dozen men to chase up the mountain.
Pei Yan stood on the roof, a gust of wind billowing his robe. He stood motionless, coldly watching the masked person’s silhouette disappear into the night.
After about half an hour, An Chen returned. Pei Yan leaped down from the roof, and An Chen approached, reporting, “There were about seven or eight enemies. They seemed to have already scouted out the locations of our secret agents. They struck ruthlessly, killing twelve of our brothers. The one who fought with me had the highest skills. They had prepared ropes at Flying Eagle Cliff in advance. By the time I chased there, they had all escaped.”
Pei Yan frowned slightly: “These people have such high martial arts skills. What are they after?”
“Yes, I’m also puzzled. Could it be to test Your Excellency’s injury status?”
Pei Yan shook his head, and after a moment, said, “Quickly send a message to Jian Yu, tell him to prepare grass and grain before the light snow, and to speed up the secret withdrawal.”
As An Chen left, Pei Yan lowered his head in thought for a moment before turning to walk towards the grass hut. He stood at the door for a long while before gently pushing it open.
He slowly stepped into the grass hut, his gaze falling on the clothes scattered on the ground, the dim charcoal fire, and the reddish candlelight. But on the bed, Jiang Ci was nowhere to be seen.
Pei Yan’s pupils suddenly contracted. He sprang up, breaking through the grass hut’s roof, and rushed through the mountains. The secret agents, not knowing what had happened, came out to salute him. His face was cold and stern as he flitted like a wisp of smoke over the vast snowy wilderness, but he couldn’t find that figure anywhere.
He let out a long shout, flashing over the treetops, his loose long hair rising in the wind before slowly falling. He stepped onto the grass hut’s roof and pulled out the long sword he had thrown earlier, the cold light reflecting in his intimidating eyes. He floated down and coldly said to the hurrying An Chen, “Gather all nearby troops, check everyone, and find that girl for me!”
On the second day of the twelfth lunar month, in Pingzhou, heavy snow fell, and the world was bitterly cold.
In the deep night, amidst the howling wind and snow, a merchant caravan hurriedly entered the city just before the gates closed. The carriages struggled through the deep snow on the main street, stopping in front of the “Jufu Inn” in the western part of the city.
A middle-aged man knocked on the inn’s main door, and after haggling with the innkeeper, rented the back courtyard. The group drove the carriages into the back courtyard, and seeing no one else there, they carried a large wooden box from inside the carriage into the main room.
The people in the caravan seemed well-trained and moved swiftly. After placing the wooden box down, they all retreated to the west wing rooms to sleep.
At the end of the Hai hour (9-11 PM), all was quiet except for the cold snow whirling outside. Inside the main room, a table slowly moved aside, revealing a tunnel under the east wall. A black shadow emerged from the tunnel, a tall figure slowly walking to the wooden box. He lightly touched the lid of the box, smiling smugly, “Ah, Young Lord, I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you.”
He chuckled, exerted force to break the copper lock, and opened the wooden box. He bent down to lift someone out of the box. Looking down at the sleeping face, his eyes flashed with curiosity and inquiry before he disappeared back into the tunnel.
Jiang Ci seemed to be trapped in an endless dream, or as if she had been drifting in a vast sea. Occasionally, she had brief moments of clarity, but she couldn’t move. All she saw were unfamiliar faces swaying before her eyes. Whenever she opened her eyes, they would feed her some liquid food, and she would drift back into unconsciousness.
She didn’t know why she had fallen into this long period of unconsciousness, nor did she know where these people were taking her. She only felt empty inside, as if a piece of her heart had been completely carved out. She only wished to sink deeper into this dream, never to wake up, never to recall the nightmare before. Of course, she also wouldn’t have to remember that night, that person, those dark eyes, that angry face.
But this dream, too, had to end someday. When that faint, sorrowful flute melody invaded her dream, piercing straight into her heart, she finally opened her eyes groggily.
Everything before her was dim and yellow. She slowly turned her head, and after a while, she realized she was lying inside a carriage. In the carriage, a person wearing a white fox fur cloak sat with his back to her, his posture relaxed yet elegant, like a spring willow, but with a straight back like a green pine. His black hair was loosely tied up with a jade hairpin, and he sat holding a flute. The flute’s melody carried hints of melancholy and sorrow, yet was also filled with longing and struggle.
Jiang Ci stared at the jade hairpin, speechless. As the last note of the flute faded away, she smiled weakly, “It’s you.”
Wei Zhao put down the bamboo flute and turned around, his eyes like beautiful gems narrowing slightly, “I’m sorry to have ruined your good time.”
Jiang Ci’s face immediately turned red as she remembered that night when she lay naked in the grass hut, hearing the sounds of Pei Yan fighting outside. This person, dressed in black with a masked face, had quietly snuck in, wrapped her in the brocade quilt, and leaped out the window. Then, he had sealed her acupoint, and after that, those people had transported her from one place to another, leading to that hazy dream.
She looked down at her clothes, remained silent for a long while, and then said softly, “No, I should thank you.”
“Oh?” Wei Zhao’s voice seemed to have a kind of bewitching magic. He slowly stood up and sat down beside Jiang Ci, his phoenix eyes quietly gazing at her.
Jiang Ci’s eyes flickered slightly, and she turned her head away, saying in a low voice, “Thank you for taking me away from there.”
“Interesting.” Wei Zhao’s tone was flat, but the corners of his lips revealed a smug smile. Jiang Ci happened to turn her head back and saw his smile, as clear as the wind and bright as the moon. At that moment, she suddenly thought of that person, that handsome face, those dark eyes full of laughter. Her heart ached, and she leaned weakly against the carriage wall. Several tears fell, dropping onto the back of her hand, icy cold, as if seeping into her skin, into her tendons.
Wei Zhao was slightly stunned, but Jiang Ci suddenly wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes, looked up with a smile, and stretched out her hand in front of Wei Zhao: “Give it to me!”
The smile on Wei Zhao’s lips took on a hint of cruelty. He lay down on the couch, put his hands behind his head, and said indifferently, “What? I don’t owe you anything.”
Jiang Ci withdrew her hand, moved away a bit, and smiled coldly, “Stop pretending! You black-hearted people will get your comeuppance one day. Just don’t forget, I left a letter somewhere.”
Wei Zhao’s smile grew even more smug, a faint blush on his snow-white skin making him look like a peach blossom, accentuating his ink-black hair and glass-like eyes.
Jiang Ci stared at him, feeling that although he was smiling, his eyes revealed only cruelty. Seeing Jiang Ci staring at him, Wei Zhao’s smile gradually faded. His eyes roamed over her body several times, and he shook his head, clicking his tongue, “Not even a great beauty, and as stupid as a deer or pig. The Young Lord’s taste is disappointing!”
Hearing the words “Young Lord,” Jiang Ci’s breath hitched slightly. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again, calmly looking at Wei Zhao, and said softly, “You went to great lengths and took great risks to bring me out from… from there. Naturally, you have your purpose. People like you never do unprofitable business. Although I don’t know how you plan to use me, you certainly intend to use me somehow. So please, first cure my poison. I’m willing to cooperate with you. From today on, whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.”