“A’Shu!”
“Shu, my cousin!”
Ling Xiao’s voice, anxious and choked with tears, rang out in unison with Ling Ji’s urgent call.
Ling Jingshu turned her head. The moment she called out “A’Xiao,” the tautness that had gripped her spirit all this time suddenly gave way. A glimmer of water welled up in her eyes, full of release.
We made it through after all! Everyone is safe and sound — thank heaven for that!
Ling Xiao could not see, but his hearing and sense of smell were exceptionally keen. The reek of blood that hung heavy in the air was enough to make one sick. The badly wounded bandits and guards continued to cry out in agony without cease.
It was nothing short of a living hell.
A chill rose from the pit of his stomach and spread rapidly through every limb and bone in his body. Ling Xiao felt his hands and feet go ice-cold, his whole body stiff and rigid. Tears rushed to his eyes.
With Jingyu supporting him, Ling Xiao felt his way to Ling Jingshu’s side. His voice came out thick with grief. “A’Shu, you are gentle and kind by nature, too tender-hearted to bear the sight of blood. Tonight must have given you such a terrible fright…”
Gentle and kind? Too tender-hearted to bear the sight of blood?
The black-robed young man shot a sardonic glance at Ling Jingshu.
When she had raised her blade and killed a man just moments ago, there was not a trace of gentle tenderness to be seen. As for not bearing the sight of blood — that much was perhaps true, given that she had spent quite a while retching.
Ling Jingshu clasped Ling Xiao’s hand and answered lightly, glossing over the weight of it all. “The bandits have all met their end. You need not worry any longer.” Then, turning to Ling Ji, she said, “Cousin, tonight we were fortunate that reinforcements arrived in time. Please go quickly and let Uncle and the others know — spare them any further worry.”
Ling Ji responded hastily and his gaze swept briefly over the face of the “reinforcement.” Then he gave a start and stepped forward to bow with great deference. “Many thanks to His Highness the Crown Grandson for his aid in this matter.”
So he was Crown Grandson Yang Yao!
The Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace was the eldest legitimate son of the Emperor and the late Empress Jiang. He had been designated heir to the throne at the age of ten. At sixteen, the Crown Prince took a consort. The following year, the Crown Princess conceived and gave birth to an eldest son.
The birth of a legitimate eldest grandson filled the Emperor’s heart with great joy. He bestowed upon the child the name Yao, and at the child’s hundredth day issued an edict conferring the title of Crown Grandson. From that point on, the Crown Prince’s position in the Eastern Palace was truly and solidly secured.
In that same year, Consort Xu also gave birth to a son. The Emperor, now past forty and overjoyed at this gift of a younger child, named him Yang Qi and conferred upon him the title of Prince Yan.
The Crown Grandson and Prince Yan were nominally uncle and nephew, yet in truth, the Crown Grandson — the nephew — was actually several months older than Prince Yan — the uncle.
When Ling Jingshu had earlier speculated on the black-robed young man’s identity, it had come down to one of these two.
The Crown Grandson glanced at Ling Ji’s face.
He had only encountered him on a handful of occasions, but his memory was sharp and retained everything perfectly. He recognized at a single glance who he was looking at. “So it is Cousin Ling’s husband by marriage. No need for formality — please rise and speak.”
The Duke of England was the Crown Grandson’s maternal cousin’s family, and Madam Jiang was a daughter of a branch of the Jiang family, making her and the Crown Grandson relatives by marriage as well. When they met, she ought to address him as “younger cousin.”
When Madam Jiang had married, the Crown Princess had personally brought the Crown Grandson to offer their congratulations. Madam Jiang would also visit the Crown Prince’s residence from time to time. And so the Crown Grandson had seen Ling Ji on a few occasions.
Hearing himself addressed as “Cousin’s husband by marriage,” Ling Ji felt something close to flattered, and straightened as he was bidden.
So much had happened tonight, and although Ling Ji had been holding himself together by sheer will, he had in truth long since been worn to the marrow. Now that safety was finally secured, the tightly wound string within him came fully undone.
Ling Ji spoke respectfully. “Your Highness the Crown Grandson, Father and Mother are still in the cabin. I will go at once and bring them the glad tidings that all is well. I also ask Your Highness to return to the ship to rest for now. When daylight comes, we will present ourselves to pay our respects to Your Highness.”
The deck at present was strewn with corpses all around. The injured bandits were being bound one by one by the guards’ blades, and blood had stained the deck and the surrounding water nearly crimson. Even Ling Ji found himself fighting waves of revulsion at the sight. It went without saying that Madam Sun, Madam Jiang, and Ling Jingyan could not be allowed to see such a scene.
The Crown Grandson gave an easy sound of acknowledgment, and out of the corner of his eye caught a glimpse of Ling Jingshu’s figure. He asked idly, “Is she also a daughter of the Ling family?”
Ling Ji did not dare to be remiss and answered promptly. “Yes, she is the eldest daughter of the Fifth Uncle’s household. Her given name is Jingshu.”
“Of quiet grace is she of beauty rare; she waits for me at the corner of the city wall. In love, yet hiding from my sight — I scratch my head and pace about in longing.”
Jingshu — Ling Jingshu! Truly a lovely name, evoking warmth and beauty. Though the way she had drawn a blade and killed just moments ago bore absolutely no resemblance to anything gentle or virtuous…
“Miss Ling, ninth of her name, has been exposed to blood and given quite a shock tonight. Best to return to the cabin early and rest.”
He tossed out these words with a light, offhand air, and the noble Crown Grandson swept his sleeve and departed.
Ling Ji did not immediately catch the unspoken meaning beneath the Crown Grandson’s words, and simply assumed that Ling Jingshu had been frightened by the injuries and blood scattered across the deck.
His poor cousin — sheltered and cherished in the inner quarters since childhood, she had never experienced anything as heart-stopping as this. Madam Jiang and Ling Jingyan had also had a terrible fright, yet they had not had to personally confront the bandits. Ling Jingshu, however, had stepped forward of her own will to protect everyone, and had been seized by the bandits and dragged to the deck.
It was fortunate that the Crown Grandson had arrived in time to rescue them. Otherwise, Ling Jingshu today would in all likelihood have faced terrible odds… Look at her — her color entirely gone, her face ashen white. She must have been frightened by the bodies beneath her feet.
Ling Ji inwardly sighed with quiet sympathy, and the corners of his eyes and brows revealed a trace of tender concern. “Shu, my cousin — you and A’Xiao should go back to the cabin first and rest. Come out again once things here have been ‘dealt with.'”
Ling Jingshu raised her head and gave a low sound of agreement.
Then, hand in hand with Ling Xiao, she skirted around the body of the bandit ringleader and entered the cabin.
Her pace was not quick. At first her steps were a little unsteady and wavering; gradually they grew more and more sure, until her frame was held straight and upright.
Wang Tong, who had been kneeling on the ground all this while, only now rose to his feet, and swiftly began directing the guards to clean up what remained.
Ling Ji had been raised on classical texts since childhood, a devoted follower of the sages Confucius and Mencius. Though he had learned riding and archery, it was all merely a fine show — he had never witnessed so many dead and wounded in his life. Even to look at it all made his stomach turn. He gladly handed the whole matter over to Wang Tong.
“I am nothing but a frail and bookish scholar, and have never encountered anything of this sort. I truly do not know how to handle it.” Ling Ji said with sincere candor, folding his hands in a bow. “I must trouble Commander Wang to see to the arrangements here.”
Wang Tong, as the head of the Eastern Palace’s Crown Grandson’s guard, had long been accustomed to the respectful and fawning manner with which everyone treated him. It came as no particular surprise, and he accepted with a smile.
Ling Ji’s gaze drifted over the body on the ground, and he could not help but feel a touch of puzzlement.
Most of the weapons carried by the Eastern Palace guards were long blades — or else bows and arrows. Yet this bandit ringleader had been killed by a dagger to the chest.
The dagger was no more than two feet long. It was evidently extremely sharp, buried to the hilt in the bandit’s chest, with only the handle protruding. The handle was inlaid with several gemstones.
What guard would carry a weapon like that?
Wait — why did he have the more and more distinct feeling that this dagger looked familiar? As though he had laid eyes on it not long ago at all…
Wang Tong followed Ling Ji’s gaze and looked in the same direction. He strode forward, and pulled the dagger free. Then he turned and held out the blood-streaked dagger to Ling Ji. “This dagger belongs to Miss Ling, ninth of her name. It would be a pity to leave it behind on the bandit’s person. Please would the young master return it to her.”
Ling Ji was speechless.