By the dim light of the few lanterns in the pavilion and the half-moon in the sky, Song Chuyi could only make out the gleaming cold light of swords flashing rapidly back and forth in the hands of those black-clothed figures who seemed almost to merge with the night.

Ye Jingchuan dragged a black-clothed figure in his grip, grinding his teeth as he threw him to the ground like a torn sack, somewhat exasperated and furious. “He’s dead!”

Having failed in assassination and then committing suicide – these people were not ordinary assassins at all, but more like death warriors who had been carefully cultivated by someone.

Qing Ying, her soul still unsettled, looked Song Chuyi up and down, her voice carrying a tearful tone. “Miss, your face is cut.”

For a young woman, nothing was more important than her face. Now seeing the blood continuously seeping from Song Chuyi’s cheek, Qing Ying felt like she was about to faint.

It was only after her shout that Ye Jingchuan noticed Song Chuyi’s face was injured. Borrowing the moonlight to look, he saw the shocking red seeping from her snow-white face. His eyes turned completely red, and squinting at the ongoing fight in the field, he wished he could kill every single one of these black-clothed figures.

Only then did Song Chuyi belatedly become aware of the pain. She reached out to touch her cheek, and in an instant saw her hand covered in blood – she didn’t know if it was from her face or blood from her hand getting injured when she fell to the ground earlier.

But none of this really mattered. She couldn’t care about the bone-piercing pain on her face and hurriedly tried to rush toward the black-clothed figure lying ahead, but was immediately grabbed by the wrist.

Zhou Weizhao’s gaze paused on her face, then swept over her already torn clothing. He then removed his own cloak and in one smooth motion enveloped her entire person within it, gently shaking his head at her. “Don’t go over there.”

Song Chuyi didn’t shake him off. She stared blankly as the black-clothed figure who was still alive was picked up like a sack by another black-clothed figure beside him. With several leaps, they borrowed momentum from a tree to vault onto a rooftop, then quickly leaped from the rooftop to the neighboring household’s courtyard, disappearing far into the night. Her gaze never moved.

After a long while, she finally turned to look at Zhou Weizhao.

Her deathly pale face bore shocking bloodstains. She opened her mouth to say something, but ultimately said nothing.

She was clearly looking at him, yet her gaze was rigid, her pupils empty. Looking at him was like looking at a blade of grass or a stone – no different, devoid of any vitality.

Qing Ying thought she was frightened senseless. She herself became anxious like an ant on a hot pan, deeply hating that she had allowed Song Chuyi to fall into such dangerous circumstances. She felt so guilty that she bit through her own lip, blood gradually seeping out with its metallic smell.

Song Chuyi recognized the person who had just held a sword to the center of her brow. Although that face was covered by black cloth, those eyes – she had grown up with the owner of those eyes since childhood. In her previous life, she had once loved him deeply. For a few of his pleasant words, she had even been willing to give up everything. In the end, she had been driven to death by his coldness and estrangement.

She had originally thought that in this life she had completely trampled this person underfoot and had him under control. Just a moment ago, she had been asking Lai Chenglong to keep an eye on Duke Yingguo’s household for her. But unexpectedly, the next moment, her life was nearly taken by the sword of this person whom she had thought was basically ruined.

Qing Ying anxiously called out to her several times, but she turned a deaf ear, her gaze staring blankly in the direction where the black-clothed figures had disappeared, without any reaction at all.

Ye Jingchuan also finally realized something was wrong. He tentatively waved his hand in front of her several times, somewhat at a loss as he turned back to ask Zhou Weizhao, “What’s wrong with her?”

He had seen Song Chuyi facing those Tatar bandits at the Tongzhou estate with an unchanged expression. At that time, she had been even younger than now, only seven or eight years old, yet she had similarly emerged from the jaws of death without even furrowing her brow. How could she now be reacting so severely?

Zhou Weizhao’s hand came to rest on Song Chuyi’s shoulder, gripping it firmly as he called her name in a deep voice. “Song Chuyi!”

Song Chuyi! Not the Duchess of Yingguo, not a divorced woman, not that laughingstock ridiculed by the world who had lost her son and could only survive in a corner.

Song Chuyi suddenly snapped awake, only then realizing that she was not in that dilapidated courtyard from her previous life that had imprisoned her for the rest of her days, and the person before her was not Duke Yingguo Shen Qingrang in his official robes acting invincible.

Meeting Zhou Weizhao’s gaze, she somehow suddenly felt like crying. She forcefully blinked her eyes to drive away the tears, softly responded, then lowly expressed her gratitude.

Thank you that he hadn’t died inexplicably like in the previous life, but stood here like a mountain, cleaving through the nightmare-like past to pull her out from her memories, making her realize what time it actually was now.

“He doesn’t have this capability, nor does he have this courage.” Once she came to her senses, she spoke directly and bluntly to Zhou Weizhao. “He also doesn’t have such formidable guards.”

Zhou Weizhao handed her an exquisite small jade gourd while nodding. “I know.”

Qing Ying knew that His Highness carried many good things from Longhu Mountain on his person. She reached out to take the jade gourd, first wiping clean the dirt on Song Chuyi’s face, then carefully poured out ointment to apply to her face.

Ye Jingchuan also knew something was amiss about this matter. Master Yuanhui had just said that Song Chuyi’s bloody disaster was imminent, and immediately afterward Song Chuyi was assassinated – didn’t this perfectly fulfill Yuanhui’s words? Just like the hunting grounds incident last time. What kind of eminent monk makes a prediction and then it immediately comes true? Only in storytelling are things this coincidental.

Thinking of Zhou Weizhao who had dragged him here, he furrowed his brow and asked, “How did you know something would happen here? You’re saying someone doesn’t have this capability – do you already know who came to assassinate her?” His string of questions came fast and urgent. Looking at Zhou Weizhao and Song Chuyi, his eyes darkened somewhat, vaguely feeling somewhat defeated. No matter what happened, it seemed he was always a beat slow to find out.

“They mobilized Prince Duan’s former people.” Zhou Weizhao explained to Song Chuyi. “When I heard that Prince Duan’s remnants were making moves, I guessed something was wrong. Yuanhui was originally Prince Duan’s man, so it’s not surprising he can mobilize Prince Duan’s remnants. But why would Shen Qingrang be connected with Yuanhui?”

That it was Prince Duan’s remnants conducting the assassination meant that besides Consort Xian, only Yuanhui could command them.

After the incident at the Fang family, Shen Xiaohai had drawn a clear line with Prince Duan. Someone like him who knew how to adapt to changing circumstances couldn’t possibly still be attached to Consort Xian at this time. Having lost her son Prince Duan, Consort Xian fundamentally couldn’t stir up any trouble anymore. He must want to curry favor with Prince Dongping by latching onto Yuanhui.