She stood up and noticed the assassin’s consciousness was hazy, though his eyes remained fixed on her. Pretending not to notice, she turned her back and went to wash her hands by the river, only then realizing her disheveled hair had completely fallen loose. Her thick black hair framed her pale face, making it impossible to hide her feminine appearance any longer.

She quickly tied up her hair, then took the two remaining arrows from the horse and walked into the mountain stream, standing there to wait.

The stream was shallow, its fish small but numerous, and foolishly unafraid of humans. Huang Zixia moved stones to create a small dam, gradually shifting them to narrow the enclosure, finally trapping several fish in the shallows. She thrust down sharply with an arrow, spearing two palm-sized fish that writhed on the shaft.

As she waded to shore with the fish, she suddenly remembered that this fishing method was something her brother had taught her when she was very young.

Back then, she had been her brother’s little shadow, and he was still a child with hanging hair. Now she was still using the method he had taught her to catch fish, but her brother lay beneath the Yellow Springs, his flesh and bones returned to earth.

Grief suddenly overwhelmed her, and she stood dazed by the water’s edge for a moment before raising her elbow to press hard against her eyes, letting her clothes absorb the tears that leaked from their corners.

The dead were gone – how could she now afford to dwell in sorrow?

She took the fish to shore, cleaned them with the Yu Chang sword, and sliced them into thin strips, removing the bones.

Afraid of attracting the assassins, she dared not light a fire, though, in the Tang Dynasty, people often ate raw fish sashimi-style anyway, so the fire wasn’t necessary. But she had always eaten such raw fish with mustard before, and now eating it plain felt quite fishy.

She took some salt found in the assassin’s belongings, rubbed it on the fish meat, and then brought it to the assassin. Pointing her dagger at him, she removed the cloth from his mouth and said, “Hungry? I’ll give you some food, but don’t make a sound.”

The assassin looked at her in surprise, until she gripped his chin and stuffed a piece of fish into his mouth. Only then did he realize she was feeding him. Seeing her gaze fixed on him, moonlight reflected in her eyes bright as stars, he chewed the fish in his mouth, barely noticing its taste.

Huang Zixia asked him, “Is it good?”

He considered for a moment and said, “It tastes fishy…”

“I rubbed it with the salt you brought – doesn’t it taste good?”

“It’s barely edible,” he said.

Huang Zixia fed him another piece, carefully studying his expression.

He didn’t avoid her gaze, looking at her while asking softly, “Why are you being so kind to me?”

Huang Zixia ignored him. Seeing he had finished both pieces of fish, she took the cloth and gagged him again, saying, “Looks like your salt wasn’t poisoned after all.”

He stared at her retreating figure in amazement, unable to hold back a bitter smile.

Huang Zixia ate half the fish meat and brought the remaining half to Li Shubai’s side. Kneeling beside him, she took his hand and pressed her cheek against its back to test his temperature.

The antidote had finally worked. Though he hadn’t woken yet, having received it late, at least that dark tinge had receded from his face, and the swelling at his left elbow had gone down.

She breathed a sigh of relief. The fear and exhaustion of the night that had gripped her suddenly released its hold, and she felt drained, collapsing to the ground. Her vision darkened, and she had to support her head, resting it on her knees with closed eyes, breathing heavily for a long while.

When that spell of dizziness passed and she opened her eyes again, she found Li Shubai had awakened, his slightly opened eyes fixed on her, never having looked away.

As she opened her eyes, their gazes met instantly.

Seeing his clear, pure gaze, all the confusion and helplessness of the night suddenly vanished. She unconsciously bent down to look at him, tears flowing uncontrollably: “You… you’re finally awake…”

Seeing the tears in her eyes, Li Shubai’s extremely weak face suddenly showed a faint smile.

He said, “Yes, I’m awake.”

Huang Zixia, seeing his sudden smile, felt something strike her chest forcefully, blooming open like flower petals.

Like a child seeing spring snow melt for the first time, like a mayfly first landing on a flower, like a cicada first crawling out of its dark cave to gaze at the clear sky – seeing something new and unknown, confused yet deeply drawn to it, unable to look away.

The dense branches overhead filtered the sunlight, casting it down like threads of golden-red silk. As the gentle breeze came, the branches swayed lightly, making those spots of golden light dance across their faces and bodies, points of brightness shifting constantly.

In this dreamlike radiance, the night’s painful journey suddenly receded. They gazed at each other as if reborn, unconsciously looking at each other for a long while.

She raised her hand to gently feel his forehead, finding it hot to the touch, but he was awake at least. Though her eyes still held a trace of moisture, her lips curved into a smile as she said tremulously, “You’re awake… thank goodness.”

Looking at her smiling face, having just escaped great danger, he wanted to raise his hand to touch her but found his entire body numb. Lifting even one hand felt harder than lifting a thousand-pound weight. He could only smile at her again and make a soft sound of acknowledgment.

“Are you hungry? Do you want water?” she asked. Seeing him blink once, she got up to fetch water and helped him drink a few sips.

Lying on the ground, he had difficulty swallowing, and a trickle of water ran down from the corner of his mouth.

After some thought, she lifted his head to rest on her leg, then brought the rolled leaf to his lips, carefully controlling her hand to let him drink slowly.

After he finished the water, she broke off two twigs and used them to feed him some of the raw fish.

He ate very slowly, appearing to find it very difficult and painful, but still looked up at her, eating nearly half bit by bit.

Huang Zixia explained softly, “I dare not light a fire, afraid of attracting last night’s assassins. Please bear with it, Your Highness.”

He didn’t speak, just lay on her leg, quietly watching her.

Only then did she realize their position was too intimate, but under these circumstances, there was no help for it. She tried to cover her embarrassment by changing the subject, saying, “I know Your Highness is usually quite particular about cleanliness but in a place like this… once we’re safe, I’ll help you find a way to wash properly.”

She carefully laid Li Shubai’s head back on the ground, gathering some grass to make a pillow for him, and then took his leftover fish to the stream. Looking up, she found their bound captive still leaning against the tree watching her, his gaze full of complex, profound meaning.

She paused for a moment, thinking, surely he hadn’t witnessed all that intimacy with Li Shubai?

But then she thought, he was just an assassin who had come to kill them. Even if he had recognized she was a woman, even if he misunderstood their relationship, what did it matter?

So she turned her eyes away as if he didn’t exist, as if he were just a blade of grass, a flower, or a tree, completely indifferent.

She washed her hands, walked to the captive, and crouched down, again pressing her dagger to his throat. Removing the cloth from his mouth, she asked, “What’s your name?”

He turned his eyes, which had been fixed on her, toward the mountain stream: “Even if I told you, you wouldn’t know it.”

“I don’t want to know,” she tapped his shoulder with her dagger. With Li Shubai awake, her tone was noticeably lighter than before. “I just want to know who’s behind you, who would dare to assassinate Duke Li.”

Without hesitation, he said, “Our king Pang Xun has already gathered a hundred thousand spirit soldiers in the underworld, determined to take revenge and claim Duke Li’s life.”

Huang Zixia laughed coldly and asked, “What would take his life accomplish? So Duke Li can shoot and kill him again in the underworld?”

He was momentarily speechless, giving a resentful “hmph.”

Huang Zixia looked at him with interest, saying, “You come from a good background – you can’t speak the crude language of common people. Someone who can maintain such personality traits while mixing with soldiers is very rare. And Pang Xun’s former subordinates were all vagrant garrison soldiers – it’s impossible they would have someone like you.”

He clenched his teeth in silence, only glaring at her fiercely.

Huang Zixia paid no attention to his direct stare. Tired of crouching, she sat down on the grass in front of him, though her dagger never left his throat for a moment. “Better tell the truth – who are you really, and who sent you to assassinate Duke Li?”

Hearing her threats, he suddenly smiled and said, “Let me tell you something – you don’t know who I am or my background, but I know who you are.”

Huang Zixia traced her dagger along his neck, asking, “Oh really?”

“You ambushed from the grass in the deep of night – your surname must have a grass radical. We met at the hour of the Tiger – remove the top of ‘tiger’ and add grass, and you get ‘Huang’. That’s your surname.”

“Not bad at breaking down characters,” she said, flipping the dagger to tap his shoulder. “But I think you already knew my true identity and worked backward from there, didn’t you?”

He smiled, though his face was stiff, making the smile look quite unnatural.

“It seems you’ve put quite some effort into investigating Duke Li, even uncovering the identity of someone as insignificant as me,” she said with a cold laugh, then pressed the captive again, “Tell me, who sent you?”

He countered, “What do you think?”

“You’re from the capital, and Princess Qile worked with you – you’re part of the court faction. But to be so ruthless with Princess Qile, you must not care about the royal family’s face, so you’re not royal relatives…”

“Wrong guess – the one who sent me is the most powerful person in the world,” he said casually.

Huang Zixia glanced back at Li Shubai, seeing him still lying quietly there, then glared at the captive: “Tell the truth!”

“I am telling the truth, why don’t you believe me?” His tone was relaxed and natural, his eyes even showing a teasing light.

Huang Zixia frowned, pressing the dagger more firmly against his throat: “His Majesty still needs Duke Li to balance the court factions and check Wang Zongshi – how could he destroy his strategy now?”

“Oh, because Eunuch Wang Zongshi has an incurable illness and doesn’t have long to live – as a small eunuch by Duke Li’s side, don’t you even know this much?” He paid no attention to the sharp dagger at his throat, still clicking his tongue in wonder. “Is it really alright for you to be so ignorant of your political enemies’ situations?”

“Is it really alright for you to spout nonsense, trying to drive a wedge between Duke Li and the court?” she frowned but didn’t press further, knowing it would be futile. She gagged him again and returned to the bushes, where she found Li Shubai with his eyes open, having listened to their entire conversation.

She sighed and said, “I’m not very good at interrogation.”

“Stop asking – even if you killed him, he wouldn’t talk… What he’s protecting is something more important than himself,” Li Shubai said, slowly closing his eyes. “Go tell him to help me make four whistle signals – three short and one long. If he refuses, tell him this: ‘In Longyou, beneath the white elm, snow flies over the mountain passes, while beacon fires are silent without smoke.'”