Shao Mingyuan quickly wove a second hat and handed it to Binglu.

Binglu took the hat and nearly burst into tears of gratitude.

Marquis Guanjun had woven a grass hat for her, a little maid—this was simply unimaginable!

Sob sob sob, she suddenly felt that Marquis Guanjun, who could weave grass hats, was more suitable for her young lady than the beautiful Young Master Chi. At least when it rained and they forgot to bring an umbrella, there would be nothing to fear!

“Miss Li, please wait here for a moment.” In the rain, the young general had raindrops hanging from his brows and the corners of his eyes, making his face appear even whiter—a kind of ice-jade whiteness, with faint shadows under his eyes.

Qiao Zhao thought: In weather like this, he must be feeling even worse, right?

She didn’t speak, watching as he turned and walked toward the wrecked carriage, bending down to lift wooden boards.

“Young lady, what is Marquis Guanjun doing?” Binglu widened her eyes watching Shao Mingyuan’s actions, couldn’t help covering her mouth and gasping, “Heavens, he’s not going to fix the carriage, is he?”

A Marquis Guanjun who could both weave grass hats and repair carriages was simply perfect. She was about to fall in love with him on behalf of her young lady—what should she do?

No one answered her.

Binglu turned her head and cried out in alarm: “Young lady, what’s wrong with you!”

Qiao Zhao painfully pressed her abdomen and managed to squeeze out a sentence: “A bit cold.”

This body was too delicate. Even after treating her stomach, she was still frail and weak.

Hearing this, Shao Mingyuan looked up, put down his work, and strode over.

“What’s wrong?”

He was tall, and when he lowered his head to ask, raindrops flowed down his cheeks and silently disappeared into his collar.

Qiao Zhao covered her abdomen, cold sweat mixing with rainwater as it dripped down. Her lips were pale, and she could no longer speak.

Binglu cried anxiously: “My lord, our young lady says she’s cold.”

Shao Mingyuan looked deeply at the silent young lady.

He was very familiar with this expression—Miss Li was probably not just cold now, but also in great pain.

“Bear with it a little.” Shao Mingyuan turned around, strode to the carriage, and with a series of clanging sounds, tied up the broken shafts.

He walked back and said “Excuse me,” then bent down to lift Qiao Zhao and walked toward the carriage.

Binglu was stunned for a moment, then lifted her feet to follow.

Shao Mingyuan placed Qiao Zhao in the carriage.

The carriage had its walls dismantled by Shao Mingyuan after they fell apart, and it had become an open cart, rather like the large carts that farmers drove.

Shao Mingyuan looked at Binglu and asked: “Can you walk by yourself?”

Binglu was somewhat confused but nodded repeatedly.

What was Marquis Guanjun putting the young lady in the carriage for? There was no horse anymore.

Then Binglu gasped and covered her mouth in shock, watching wide-eyed as Shao Mingyuan pulled the carriage forward with both hands for several yards before she awakened as if from a dream and chased after them.

Qiao Zhao’s abdomen hurt like it was being cut with knives. She silently watched the person pulling the cart, her emotions complex.

This man pulling the cart with his head lowered seemed completely different from the man who had stood beneath the city wall that day with a cold expression, shooting her without a word.

Yet these two figures gradually overlapped.

Shao Mingyuan on the battlefield, Shao Mingyuan now—each side was real, just different choices when facing different situations.

And the only two times in her life she had been in such dire straits: that time, he had killed her; this time, he was saving her.

Miss Qiao thought hazily: She might be able to forgive him.

The carriage was pulled off the main road, and as the path became narrower, it gradually became difficult to proceed.

Shao Mingyuan stopped and slowly set down the cart, walking to Qiao Zhao’s side.

“Miss Li, there are dwellings not far ahead. Let me take you there to shelter from the rain first. We’ll continue our journey after the rain stops.”

Qiao Zhao endured the discomfort and nodded lightly.

Given her current physical condition, if she insisted on returning to the city, she would probably be in mortal danger.

Shao Mingyuan bent down and lifted Qiao Zhao again, nodded to Binglu, and walked forward.

The three of them went up along the mountain path, and indeed there was a dwelling hidden among the lush vegetation.

The dwelling wasn’t large, with a string of red peppers battered by rain hanging under the eaves, and a bowl-sized copper bell swinging back and forth, its sound muffled by the wind and rain.

Qiao Zhao looked up at Shao Mingyuan, and because speaking was difficult, she only blinked her eyes.

Shao Mingyuan seemed to understand what she was thinking and explained: “When passing this road, I accidentally saw a reflection.”

He spoke concisely, but Qiao Zhao understood immediately.

People in the capital area had a habit of hanging copper bells carved with fortune patterns under the eaves to ward off evil spirits, especially those living in sparsely populated areas like hunters’ dwellings.

On clear days, when the copper bells reflected sunlight, Shao Mingyuan, who had passed by before, had inadvertently noticed the reflection among the mountains and forests, thus guessing there were dwellings here.

This man was observant. She wondered how she had encountered him today.

Could it be that he was going to Dafu Temple alone?

Qiao Zhao lowered her eyes, hiding her thoughts.

In just a moment of distraction, Shao Mingyuan had already carried Qiao Zhao to the front of the dwelling and called out loudly: “Is anyone there?”

After a moment, the door opened, and a sturdy middle-aged man appeared at the entrance, his tone guarded: “What do you want?”

“I am…” Shao Mingyuan hesitated for a moment, then said, “I was going to Dafu Temple with my younger sister to pray, but we encountered heavy rain on the way back. My sister is weak and cannot bear the rain. I hope you might be so kind as to let us shelter from the rain and warm ourselves at your place.”

After speaking, he took out a piece of broken silver from his pouch and handed it over.

The middle-aged man’s eyes lit up as he reached out to take the silver, muttering: “What kind of Buddha worship requires going out in weather like this? Come in.”

The three entered the house and discovered there was another, younger man inside.

That person stood up.

The middle-aged man spoke: “This is my brother. This is our place for resting during hunting.”

He turned his head to the younger man and said: “They’re passing through, taking shelter from the rain.”

The young man smiled, his gaze sweeping over the thoroughly soaked Binglu before looking at Qiao Zhao.

Shao Mingyuan shifted slightly to block the incoming gaze, looking at him coolly.

The young man scratched his head, showing some simple honesty: “We have some dry clothes here that my brother and I keep. Do you want to change? Though we don’t have anything for ladies to wear.”

The middle-aged man chimed in: “Right, if you don’t mind, put them on first. I’ll go make a fire and cook some hot soup.”

“Thank you very much.”

The middle-aged man led the three of them into an inner room and pulled out two sets of clothes and a dirty towel from a roughly made cabinet: “There are only two sets—”

Shao Mingyuan took them and handed them to Binglu, saying, “Thank you. Please sell me that tiger skin hanging on the wall outside. My sister is frozen from the rain.”

The increasingly cold body of the young lady in his arms made him somewhat worried. What surprised him even more was that although the young lady had been shivering constantly, she had remained quiet throughout.

“Oh, no problem, but this tiger skin isn’t cheap—”

“That’s fine. Is this enough?” Shao Mingyuan handed over a piece of silver.

“Enough, enough. You take care of your business first, I’ll go cook the soup.” The middle-aged man clutched the silver and left the room.