Deep into the night, the river surface, already desolate and deserted, now held only the five boats belonging to the Cui and Song families combined. The bloody stench on the deck had been blown away by the river wind, and combined with the fragrant powder Yu Shi had ordered sprinkled, it had vanished without a trace—just like the deadly struggle from the first half of the night, dissipating cleanly, as if it had never happened at all.

But at this moment, Lin Sheng could not pretend it hadn’t happened. He spat out a mouthful of thick, bloody saliva, instinctively wanting to raise his hand to wipe the blood foam from his mouth, but he was powerless to do so—he was currently bound with both hands tied tightly, suspended from the boat, his body dangling above the water as the boat dragged him along. With every gust of wind he couldn’t help but shiver violently. Soaked and frozen, he couldn’t stop yawning repeatedly, but even as his consciousness began to blur, not a single person came to attend to him.

When the sun rose, his clothes were finally half-dried by the strong river wind and baked by the sun, sticking wetly to his body. The wounds accidentally torn open by barbs on his arms were red, swollen, and itching, but he couldn’t even rub them. His entire body felt so miserable that he wished he could just die right then and there. He heard people walking back and forth on the deck above, and straining his head upward with all his might, he could barely make out the escort guards standing at attention with solemn concentration.

The master of this boat was nothing like what the noble had claimed—hardly a helpless weakling easy to deal with, but rather a demon! All his brothers had been captured and taken away, leaving only him hanging alone on this boat, half-dead and half-alive, more miserable than death itself.

The sky gradually darkened again. The escort guards on deck finally had a moment to relax, holding bowls and drinking wine and eating meat in great gulps. The aroma of food and drink drifted with the wind to his nose, making his stomach growl fiercely.

He clenched his teeth tightly, but the hunger in his belly only intensified, until it felt as though his intestines were completely empty. That hollow, groundless feeling was driving him mad. Another cold wind passed and he shivered again, dimly aware that his face had turned red from the wind’s lashing, and his head began to ache with a dull, oppressive pain.

He could endure it no longer. Originally, he had been waiting for them to come interrogate him, but from the looks of things, by the time they came, he would have already starved or frozen to death. He opened his mouth and tried desperately to shout, but was shocked to discover he could no longer make a sound. The moment he opened his mouth, his throat felt like it was being cut with a knife—from blowing in the cold wind for a full day and night. He pushed his feet against the hull and swung himself outward with all his strength, his entire body then crashing back against the boards with a bang bang bang sound due to the momentum.

But still no one paid him any attention. The sun gradually sank westward, the wind on the river grew fiercer, and his heart grew increasingly anxious. This area was their territory—passenger boats and cargo boats all changed course when they reached here, and there would be no other vessels nearby at all. If they kept him hanging like this for several more days, he might truly lose his life. Desperate, he shouted upward again and again, using his body to crash against the hull to make noise.

The sky turned completely black, and finally there was movement above. Dazed and confused, he opened his eyes, feeling someone suddenly pull him upward. His body, which had long since lost all feeling, crashed heavily onto the deck with a clang—no different from when he used to casually toss severed heads into the water.

He finally opened his eyes and regained clarity—he couldn’t just wait for death in this stupor. There must still be a chance. As long as there was the slightest hope of survival, he had to stay alive, had to fight for it.

His arms already felt useless—he couldn’t even lift them himself. After struggling for some time, he was still spinning in place, finding it extraordinarily difficult even to stand up.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to struggle for long. Very soon, he was lifted up by one hand by that fierce and menacing man who had captured him and thrown at the bow where several lanterns had been lit.

After being blown by the wind for so long and starving for so long, his forehead was already burning hot, but at this moment he couldn’t spare any attention for that. He stared intently at the people emerging from the passageway—these people were the true key to determining whether he lived or died.

He knew the noble had sent him to deal with a young girl, but he never imagined that this young girl would be the one determining his fate. He had thought it would at least be Huang Yiping with his soldiers, or at worst Zhou the garrison commander. But the person appearing before him was truly a girl who looked barely of marriageable age.

He swallowed with difficulty, then watched as the young girl opened her mouth and asked him: “Who sent you?”

Lin Sheng had wanted to negotiate some terms. After all, he should at least try to negotiate terms.

But he only hesitated for a moment before the pockmarked man came up and kicked him viciously. Though he already had little feeling left, he clearly heard the crack of his leg bone bending and breaking.

This young girl… Lin Sheng’s brain was somewhat sluggish. He struggled to inch forward: “Spare me, spare me…” His voice was already hoarse beyond recognition, and speaking felt excruciatingly painful, as if it would kill him.

Song Chuyi smiled radiantly, settling at her leisure onto a round stool her servants had brought over: “First tell me who sent you to kill me, and I can consider it.”

Lin Sheng lay prostrate on the deck, raising his head to look at her with some difficulty. After a long while, his eyes finally moved. He no longer had any capital to negotiate with this person. Though this young girl appeared to be smiling sweetly, that smile didn’t reach her eyes at all—this was not someone willing to haggle and bargain.

His lips moved, and clutching at a thread of hope, he told her in a hoarse voice: “It was… it was Chen Bin… Minister Chen…”

Chen Bin, a member of the Chen family clan, current Protector-General of Jinzhou.

As expected, it couldn’t be separated from the Chen family. The Chen family wanted her dead this badly. The smile at the corners of Song Chuyi’s mouth deepened further. She nodded lightly at Ma San, and Ma San hoisted Lin Sheng up like a sack of grain and walked away.

Lin Sheng didn’t even have the chance to say one more word. He watched helplessly as Song Chuyi became a small dot and disappeared from his sight, only then belatedly beginning to panic.

Qing Tao came up to support her, biting her lip with considerable indignation: “What exactly is this Chen family trying to do?! They even dare to collude with river bandits!”

The Chen family who dared to help Zhou Weiqi move against Prince Duan and Prince Gong in Yangzhou—their courage would naturally not be small.

But this matter probably had nothing to do with Old Master Chen. If Old Master Chen had made his move, it would definitely not be such petty mischief. This was more like the handiwork of a woman from the inner quarters. Song Chuyi thought of the cinnabar beauty mark between someone’s brows, of Chen Mingyu with her natural air of pitiful helplessness, and of Old Madam Chen who had thrown out the marriage between Tang Mingzhao and Second Young Master Shen for Chen Mingyu’s sake. She laughed mockingly.