Neither Qing Luo nor Han Yan had the leisure to pay attention to that strange person who’d ridden his horse to death. Their attention was entirely on Zhou Weizhao’s pale face. Borrowing the light of the sky that hadn’t yet completely darkened, they glanced at Zhou Weizhao’s complexion and cried out “Your Highness!” in alarm.
Zhou Weizhao had originally been injured and had been unconscious in Yangquan for several days. Later, with great difficulty, the poison had been neutralized, but just as Imperial Physician Yan and Attendant Hu had said, he absolutely had to be carefully nursed, or else they wouldn’t have considered moving him back to Jinzhong to recuperate. But now, in his current state, he’d clearly fought desperately, used martial arts, and aggravated his wounds. The two of them rushed forward in panic. Fortunately, they both carried wound medicine and other hemostatic drugs on their persons. At this moment, they poured them onto Zhou Weizhao’s wounds as if money were no object, then pulled out a small gourd bottle from their bosoms, poured out several qi-nourishing pills, and first gave them to Zhou Weizhao to take.
Ye Jingchuan had already rushed over anxiously to check on Song Chuyi’s condition. Just now, Song Chuyi’s carriage had crashed into the mountain wall and been almost completely smashed to pieces. He’d nearly failed to catch his breath. Now seeing that though Song Chuyi was somewhat disheveled—her hairpins and ornaments scattered, her clothes somewhat disarrayed—she hadn’t suffered any serious injuries, he breathed a light sigh of relief and asked her anxiously: “Sixth Miss, are you injured?”
Actually, her elbows and back had already been scraped raw, but Song Chuyi endured the pain and shook her head. Seeing Hong arriving afterward, she pointed at the cliff ahead: “Just now, the person who assassinated His Highness jumped down from here. Quickly go investigate—if alive, see the person; if dead, see the corpse.” They had to confirm whether San Nan was alive or dead before they could rest easy. This little monk’s heart was far more vicious than she could have imagined.
Lai Chenglong had always been extremely amiable toward this Sixth Miss. As Lai Chenglong’s trusted confidant, Hong, hearing Song Chuyi say this, straightforwardly agreed and immediately dispatched people to search. He added: “Later, we’ll add more manpower. Even if we have to turn this entire place upside down, we must find the person. Just as Sixth Miss said, if alive, we must see the person; if dead, we must see the corpse.”
Song Chuyi turned back to look at Zhou Weizhao. Zhou Weizhao was also looking at her. In his pitch-black eyes, like dots of ink, a hint of a smile lingered, like the brightest stars in the sky: “Are you all right?”
This was the first thing he’d said to her after telling her to let go. His tone was as steady as always, yet carried utterly sincere concern. Besides her brothers, grandfather, and younger brother, he was the only one who, at such a critical moment, was still willing to sacrifice his own life to reach out and pull her to safety. The bit of uneasiness in her heart and that little worry about not knowing how to repay this debt immediately disappeared. She gently shook her head: “I’m fine, very well.”
But Qing Ying couldn’t see where Song Chuyi was well at all. Her snow-white, delicate back was covered with densely packed wounds of all sizes, and there were even small stones embedded inside. She endured and endured but still couldn’t hold back. Tears streamed down, and she felt guilty to death: “Miss, I’ve wronged you. I’m useless… If I hadn’t failed to hold on, that carriage wouldn’t have run away…”
The sky had already darkened. Their group was all either injured or exhausted, truly unsuitable to continue traveling. They lodged at a post station by the roadside. The room had already been arranged, and the bedding was all what Song Chuyi was accustomed to using. She lay prone on the bed while Qing Ying applied medicine, slowly shaking her head and softly comforting her: “Silly girl, how could this be something you could control? At that time, those crazed horses charged out, and death warriors were locked in combat with soldiers—it was clearly San Nan’s deliberate doing. No matter how you tried to guard against it, you couldn’t have prevented it.”
She’d only learned later from what Qing Zhuo and Han Feng told her that on the way pursuing her, Zhou Weizhao had already been struck hard on the shoulder by San Nan with that large string of prayer beads, precisely at the spot where he’d previously been hit by the arrow. The reason her carriage ran faster and faster and jolted so violently was also because San Nan kept striking the horse’s rear end with small stones to stimulate it.
San Nan’s plan was precisely to have Song Chuyi fall off the cliff with the carriage or crash into the mountain wall and be smashed to pieces. Zhou Weizhao had then told Qing Zhuo and Han Feng to rush forward first to entangle San Nan, while he himself, enduring the wound on his arm, came to save her.
Qing Ying took a deep breath, then with trembling hands held small tweezers to remove the small stones from Song Chuyi bit by bit. She then used a hot towel to first clean all her wounds once over before applying medicine.
While applying medicine, she couldn’t help but harbor resentment toward Qing Luo and Han Yan in her heart: “Who knows whose maids these two really are? Even if His Highness is their original master, they shouldn’t be so blind to the injuries on Miss’s body… To let you return this way with injuries all the way, exposed to wind for so long—if the wounds become inflamed or you catch a chill and develop a fever, what will we do?”
But Song Chuyi harbored no resentment at all. She even felt somewhat grateful that Qing Luo and Han Yan valued Zhou Weizhao more. If they hadn’t carried wound medicine and those qi-nourishing pills on their persons, who knew whether Zhou Weizhao could have persisted with clear consciousness to return.
Before she could speak to Qing Ying, she heard Qing Luo and Han Yan’s voices outside—they’d been worried earlier and had followed Zhou Weizhao the entire way, serving tea and water. Even after returning to the post station, they’d stayed with Zhou Weizhao. After coming back, they’d disappeared without a trace. Qing Ying was so angry partly because of this.
The door opened. Before Qing Ying could vent a few sentences to relieve her heart’s anger, Qing Luo and Han Yan knelt on the ground, their faces white as paper. This wasn’t the Cui residence—there were no carpets laid on the floor. It was hard-as-can-be square-patterned blue bricks. When they both knelt down, Song Chuyi clearly heard the crisp sound of knees touching ground.
“We failed to protect Sixth Miss… Please punish us, Sixth Miss.” Qing Luo’s face was deathly pale. Though tears filled her eyes, she didn’t dare let a single drop fall. She touched her head to the ground, kowtowing with extreme sincerity. Very soon, her forehead was bruised black and blue.
Qing Ying bit her lip looking at the two of them, her gaze carrying some shock and also dissipating anger. Indeed, Qing Luo and Han Yan hadn’t put their hearts into it. The two of them had focused all their attention on Zhou Weizhao’s carriage. In that situation, if they’d done their utmost to protect only Song Chuyi, Song Chuyi’s carriage wouldn’t have lost control and run so far. But at that time, they simply hadn’t looked after Song Chuyi, or at least hadn’t wholeheartedly looked after Song Chuyi. Instead, they’d thrown themselves entirely toward Zhou Weizhao, causing Song Chuyi to suffer such hardship.
Han Yan wasn’t as straightforward as Qing Luo. Bean-sized tears had already overflowed her eye sockets. She kowtowed continuously following Qing Luo, somewhat numbly.
Song Chuyi was made somewhat dizzy by their continuous kowtowing and asking for punishment from the moment they entered. After a while, she finally reacted and immediately stopped them: “Enough. If you keep kowtowing, even the stones will be smashed by you.”