Liu Jue wandered again to the Right Chancellor’s residence, once more inviting A’Luo out riding. A’Luo thought privately, how is this man like some cockroach that just won’t die? How should she shake him off today?
Riding across the grasslands, Liu Jue led A’Luo east toward the Yucui Mountain range. A’Luo recalled that Princess Huguo’s private estate lay in that direction. Past the plains, the hills rose and fell gently; galloping across them felt like riding over a woman’s gentle, sleeping breath spread across the earth. After riding for a while, A’Luo yawned: “The sun’s too fierce, I’m getting sleepy. I won’t keep you company anymore, I want to head back to the residence.”
Liu Jue turned to look at her: “Are you actually heading back to the residence, or off to wander the streets alone?”
A’Luo was so startled her body jolted, nearly falling from her horse. She turned her face away: “How shameless of you—having people follow me?”
Liu Jue laughed, “Originally I just wanted to know what other secrets that girl who could teach Prince Li’s chef to cook top-notch vegetarian dishes—and whom he keeps calling a treasure—might have. Before I knew it, I got hooked on watching, and now it’s quite entertaining watching you and Zili meet in the back courtyard.”
If he kept having people watch her like this, she really wouldn’t be able to leave. A’Luo looked at Liu Jue earnestly: “If you have people follow me again, I’d rather die than marry you! I hate having someone watch everything I do—that’s a violation of privacy! I’d think less of you for it!”
Liu Jue also dropped his playful manner and looked at A’Luo seriously: “Fine, I won’t have anyone watch you. A’Luo, I wasn’t trying to spy on you. At first it was just curiosity, but now there’s no need.” He smiled, “Anyone would feel uncomfortable in your position.”
A’Luo let out a breath of relief: “I believe you. Don’t let me down.”
Liu Jue jumped off his horse and extended a hand to A’Luo: “Come down! Let’s sit by the stream a while.”
A’Luo was about to dismount when Liu Jue frowned and said, “Actually, never mind. It’s nearly noon, the sun’s too harsh—you should head back first.”
Liu Jue’s sudden change of mind puzzled A’Luo. Liu Jue’s face turned serious: “Go, quickly!” He slapped the horse’s rump, and it neighed and bolted forward. Just a few steps in, its front legs buckled and it lurched forward; A’Luo cried out and fell from the horse. She closed her eyes, thinking it was over—but then her body felt suddenly light, a pair of strong arms already catching her. She heard Liu Jue shout, “Up!” and his body seemed to fly like riding on clouds and mist. She heard nothing but wind whistling past her ears mixed with the clash of blades. When her feet touched solid ground again, she saw about a dozen men in blue clothing swinging swords at them—the situation far more dangerous than the previous attack on Zili, ten times more so. Blades and swords flashed, figures blurred; A’Luo’s eyes could barely keep up. Bare-handed combat couldn’t compare to skills like these—it was like children’s play by comparison.
Liu Jue shielded her, dodging left and right. Just as she stood dazed, she heard the sound of wind behind her—someone was attacking from the rear. Liu Jue instinctively turned and blocked with his sword, one hand tightly gripping A’Luo. He let out a long, ringing whistle. The black-clad riders of Prince Anqing’s household, the Dark Corps, suddenly appeared. The blue-clad attackers were caught completely off guard. The situation reversed; the battle ended quickly. Not one of the blue-clad men escaped—three were captured alive.
Liu Jue sheathed his sword, standing tall and elegant. He said with a grin: “Speak up—who sent you? Of course, usually people like you don’t want to say. Having to endure suffering before talking isn’t the mark of a wise person. Here’s the deal: talk, and this young lord will give you a quick death. If you don’t talk, then dying won’t be so easy. Ten years, eight years—I have the patience to wait.”
The three blue-clad men exchanged glances and spoke up: “Talking or not makes no difference. The young lord may as well do as he pleases.”
Liu Jue laughed: “What action, exactly? I wouldn’t want to frighten my little future princess consort.”
A’Luo’s face reddened and she turned aside, thinking, how could Liu Jue interrogate prisoners with such a playful attitude. Just as she turned her head, she heard a muffled groan; just as she was about to turn back, Liu Jue’s large hand had already covered her eyes: “Be good, don’t look. Just like this—enjoy the scenery for now.”
When Liu Jue removed his hand, A’Luo truly didn’t want to look. All she could hear behind her were muffled sounds. Her mind, though, couldn’t help imagining what the scene might be. She covered her ears instead. After two or three quarters of an hour, Liu Jue removed her hand from her ears and turned her body around—the open hillside seemed as though nothing had happened at all.
Liu Jue wore a bright smile, but seeing the fear and doubt widening A’Luo’s eyes, he couldn’t help but sigh, cupping her face in his hands: “A’Luo, don’t be afraid. Look at me, look into my eyes. Remember, as long as I’m here, you’ll be safe. Unless—unless I die before you.”
Liu Jue’s gaze was sincere and steady. A’Luo felt a moment of dazed vulnerability and unconsciously nodded. Liu Jue’s heart eased and he pulled her into an embrace. His chest was firm and warm. She heard him say softly, “Trust me, A’Luo. I’ll be good to you, I’ll protect you, for the rest of our lives.”
The two stayed embraced like that for a while. A’Luo suddenly asked, “Who wants to kill you? You seem to have been prepared for this.”
Liu Jue said flatly: “If not the Crown Prince, then Prince Li.”
A’Luo was shocked and pushed him away: “How is that possible? What benefit would there be in offending you?”
Liu Jue said: “That’s exactly the problem. Neither of them would gain any benefit from offending me, which is precisely why each would want the other to be seen as offending me—as long as Prince Anqing’s household leans toward one side, that side’s chances in the coming succession struggle would be greatest. Those blue-clad men just now, under torture, admitted it was the Crown Prince’s doing—but I don’t believe it. Prince Li might actually be more likely. Given how strictly he rules his affairs, he could easily use dead operatives to divulge false confessions under the most extreme suffering, framing the Crown Prince.
“But I can’t rule out the Crown Prince either—deliberately drawing suspicion onto himself to appear more innocent by contrast. You must understand, I am to be his future brother-in-law; given the Crown Prince’s current standing, all Prince Anqing’s household would need to do is remain neutral to help him greatly. On the surface, he has no need to move against me now. And yet, he might fear the household would support Prince Li instead—that possibility can’t be excluded either. So I don’t believe a word those blue-clad men said. The only thing I can confirm is—once Prince Ning passes, the court will inevitably fall into chaos.”
The more A’Luo listened, the more alarmed she grew. She thought—there’s still half a month left. Half a month, and then she’d be far away from all this. She was determined not to wade into these muddy waters.
Liu Jue gazed at A’Luo tenderly: “Will you stay with me, A’Luo? Through life and death, through every hardship?”
A’Luo answered without hesitation: “No.”
Liu Jue’s expression instantly changed, glaring at her resentfully: “I truly don’t know what your heart is made of! Ungrateful as a white-eyed wolf!”
A’Luo looked at Liu Jue: “I don’t like these power struggles, and none of it concerns me. Why should I be part of it with you?”
Liu Jue sighed: “A’Luo, wherever you go, it’s all the same. There’s no such thing as calm waters.”
A’Luo lowered her head, then after a long moment raised it again: “I think somewhere in this world, there must be a place of peace and quiet, where one can live simply.”
Liu Jue looked into the distance, then turned back, his expression having softened: “I hope so too. You had quite a scare today. Prince Li is setting up his own household outside the palace soon—Feng City is about to see storms brewing. Go back. If nothing urgent comes up, stay in the residence, don’t wander around.”
A’Luo said, “Right, the household’s been very busy lately—the women are all happily helping prepare Qingfei’s dowry.”
Liu Jue recalled the night of the Crown Prince’s banquet for Zili. He suddenly asked, “A’Luo, has life in the household been difficult for you? Because your mother came from a pleasure house?”
“Yes. Knowing that, you still want to marry me as your primary wife?”
Liu Jue chuckled heartily: “My own mother was a war captive my father seized during battle, and things turned out fine, didn’t they? It’s just a shame she passed away early. My mother was very beautiful. My father never remarried, still thinking of her to this day.”
“Wouldn’t your father be mocked by the court officials for that? My father takes pride in having seven wives—it seems Ning Guo’s custom is that the more wives you have, the more face you gain.”
“Who would dare mock him? Even Prince Ning shows my father great respect.” Liu Jue’s tone carried a note of pride: “Besides, having one true confidant is enough. A’Luo, I’ve chosen you—don’t betray me.”
“And if I did betray you—if I didn’t marry you—what would you do?”
“You’ll know when that day comes.”
After returning from that outing, Liu Jue hadn’t come to find A’Luo again. During the day, the wives kept A’Luo occupied with whatever they were doing, so A’Luo could only climb the wall at night to slip out and handle her preparations.
At Tang Garden, the Seventh Wife, A’Luo, and Xiao Yu were all excited and anxious, waiting for the day of Qingfei’s wedding. Nanny Zhang had, a year earlier, used old age as an excuse to leave the household, having quietly left Feng City early, and, following A’Luo’s arrangements, gone ahead to Linnan City on the border with Chen Guo.
Everyone counted down the days. A’Luo warned the Seventh Wife and Xiao Yu repeatedly not to be nervous—just treat it like an outing. A’Luo told them: “No one can possibly know what’s in your heart. Even if they guess correctly, it’s still just a guess. As long as you don’t admit it, it never happened.”
Finally the day arrived—the day before Qingfei’s wedding. A’Luo and the Seventh Wife smilingly presented her with wedding gifts and said all the right things before returning to Tang Garden as usual. Xiao Yu locked the courtyard gate, and the three of them quickly changed into men’s clothing. Taking only banknotes and jewelry, they headed for the bamboo grove in the back courtyard. They climbed over the residence’s outer wall with surprising ease. A’Luo led the way to the riverside, where a carriage had already been arranged. After paying the fare, A’Luo took the reins herself and drove the carriage in a roundabout route toward the East City.
Once outside the residence, the Seventh Wife sighed in relief, seeing A’Luo handle the carriage skillfully, and asked, “Third child, when did you learn to drive a carriage?”
A’Luo smiled: “After I learned to ride, I got curious and had Zili have a carriage made for me to drive around for fun. I even told him it was called a ‘travel carriage’—loaded with all sorts of things, so two people could stop and rest wherever they liked. I slowly picked it up.”
The Seventh Wife sighed: “Actually, Prince Li truly cares for you.”
“Mother, I only ever thought of him as an older brother. But he told me never to trust him again after this. I don’t know—perhaps we’ll never see each other again.”
A’Luo sighed and said nothing more, focusing on driving. They reached the residential district in the southeast, and carefully dismounted, wrapping cloth around the horse’s hooves before quietly making their way through the alleys. After circling for a full two hours, they finally reached a house purchased earlier.
Xiao Yu helped the Seventh Wife down from the carriage, and A’Luo accompanied them into the courtyard, retrieving previously prepared supplies from inside, telling the Seventh Wife: “Mother, Xiao Yu and I have already stocked this house with enough grain for half a year, along with clothing and other necessities. I’ve already dismissed the original caretaker. You and Xiao Yu should lock the gate and rest well. Xiao Yu has been here before and knows the layout. I need to go arrange things now.”
The Seventh Wife choked back tears: “Third child, you must be careful!”
A’Luo glanced at the sky—there was still an hour before the city gates opened. She nodded: “I’ll come back safely.” She drove the carriage straight toward the south city gate.
A’Luo waited carefully in an alley half a li from the city gate. The south gate opened at the fourth quarter of the hour of Mao—this was Feng City’s routine. Without wartime conditions, once the gate opened, soldiers wouldn’t check people coming and going. A’Luo had deliberately worn a striking silver-white robe. She thought—everyone would be able to see her clearly.
Normally at the hour of Chen, the Seventh Wife would go pay respects at the main hall. But today, at the hour of Chen, the Seventh Wife would be helping dress Qingfei for the wedding. If the Seventh Wife didn’t arrive, the maids would discover it and report to Chancellor Li. With Qingfei’s wedding, and officials and old friends to entertain, the household would surely be thrown into chaos. Only once they decided to search everywhere for the missing would they act, and even then, they wouldn’t make a great public fuss. The ones she truly worried about were Liu Jue and Zili—Zili would probably be secretly hoping she’d escaped successfully, but once Liu Jue got word, it would likely be around the hour of Si at the earliest. That gave her at least two hours to arrange everything.
A’Luo carefully calculated the timing, checked the supplies on the carriage, and smiled with confidence. The sky was growing faintly light. The eastern horizon showed the first pale glow of dawn, and a carriage headed toward the south city gate.
At that moment, the soldiers had just finished yawning and opened the gate. Only a scattering of villagers transporting vegetables and other goods slowly passed through. Suddenly, the rapid clatter of hooves rang out—a handsome young man in white robes drove a carriage racing forward, calling out urgently: “There’s illness in the family, hurrying home! Make way!”
By Feng City custom, when a family member was gravely ill, there was often a wish to return home before their final breath. The soldiers watched sympathetically as the carriage sped through the gate, moved by the young man’s filial devotion, silently praying he would deliver his mother home safely in time.