The Pei residence.

Basin after basin of blood water was carried out from the room, a shocking sight.

Pei Xiao sat on the threshold, head hanging, oblivious to everything around him.

No one knew that yesterday evening, he’d secretly gone alone to Jietai Temple.

His heart was unsettled, his right eyelid kept twitching. He felt something terrible was about to happen.

After three sticks of clear incense, he went to the main hall to draw a divination stick. When he pulled it out, it was actually the worst possible fortune. So frightened, his hand loosened and the stick fell to the ground.

Now it had come true.

She’d lost so much blood—would she die?

If she died, what would he do?

Who would he quarrel with, roll his eyes at, curse as a troublemaker?

Thinking of this, Pei Xiao felt pain in his chest—just like when Xie Fifty had his heart condition—nearly fainting.

He pulled all the miscellaneous items from his robe and dumped them out.

This was the Diamond Sutra blessed by monks—it could protect people to live a hundred years.

This was a talisman obtained from the temple—it could ward off evil and dispel disaster.

This was a black donkey hoof—it could repel evil and drive away ghosts.

What else?

Right, right, right.

Pei Xiao removed the Guanyin pendant hanging from his neck, then stacked these items in his palm and walked to the doorway, calling out with a trembling voice:

“Shen Xiang.”

Shen Xiang came out from inside. “Master?”

Pei Xiao stuffed the items into his hands. “Quick, put all these in her palm.”

“…”

Shen Xiang: “Master, will it work?”

“How could it not work?”

Intense blood-red color burst from his eyes. He grabbed Shen Xiang’s collar and roared:

“This master says it works, so it damn well works! Why are you talking nonsense?”

Shen Xiang was startled by the expression on his face and quickly ran back inside.

Pei Xiao walked unsteadily to the doorway, supporting himself on the doorframe as he slowly sat down.

It would work.

These were all items given by enlightened monks. Monks meditated and chanted sutras all day—they were the people closest to the Bodhisattva. The Bodhisattva would protect her.

Definitely would.

Before long, Shen Xiang ran out again, crouching beside Pei Xiao with obvious hesitation.

Pei Xiao assumed the troublemaker was dying. His vision went black and he pitched forward.

Shen Xiang quickly caught him, bit his teeth, and said quietly: “Master, do you like Miss Li?”

What?

Pei Xiao’s body straightened—resurrection from the dead.

I like her?

This troublemaker, neither male nor female—what about her is worth liking? She’s just a servant who knows how to wield weapons.

Pei Xiao’s lips moved. He wanted to blurt out all these words, but unfortunately couldn’t say a single one. They all tore at his heart and lungs, stuck in his throat—

“Forget it. This lord doesn’t fight with women. Get lost!”

“That’s because you can’t win the fight.”

“You should be grateful you’re a woman. This Young Master Pei doesn’t want to touch women even with one finger—bad luck. Get lost… get lost!”

“I hate those who just yap endlessly without taking action. All talk and no game, huh?”

The quarrel from their first meeting appeared word-for-word in his mind.

How strange—why did he remember it so clearly?

A confused whimper emerged from Pei Xiao’s mouth—like unwillingness, like a dying struggle…

Finally, he closed his eyes as if accepting fate.

Amitabha.

So I really do like her!

…

The rain alternated between heavy and light.

The carriage headed south against wind and rain.

Suddenly, the carriage body jolted violently. Dong Xiao started awake, opening those deep-set eyes.

His mind was somewhat muddled. After spacing out for a while, he realized he was lying in a carriage.

“You’re awake?”

Who?

Dong Xiao sat up abruptly and looked up.

He saw a slender young woman sitting cross-legged before him. The girl’s face was pale, a pair of bright dark eyes identical to those that often appeared in his memories.

Dong Xiao’s pupils contracted. “How is it you?”

“It is indeed me.”

Yan Sanhe smiled slightly. “Dong Chengfeng, we meet again.”

These three words came without warning, making Dong Xiao feel a sense of long-lost recognition, and secretly alarming him.

Chengfeng was the name his master had given him.

Master always said his blood carried a wildness no one could suppress, that he looked down on everyone. To accomplish great things, he must learn to accommodate others.

Chengfeng meant to accommodate others.

Such a distant name—she actually knew it?

How did she know?

Where did she learn it?

Dong Xiao, usually shrewd and calculating, experienced what it felt like to be schemed against. He looked at Yan Sanhe in bewilderment.

Yan Sanhe picked up the teapot and poured two cups of tea. “Thirsty? Want some tea?”

She paused, smiling lightly. “After all, sparing no effort to incite Prince Han to murder and rebel must be rather taxing on the voice.”

Dong Chengfeng revealed a shocked expression.

He lowered his head, meeting Yan Sanhe’s gaze directly, staring at her, staring fixedly without blinking.

Yan Sanhe allowed him to examine her freely, occasionally meeting his eyes.

Calling out the name Dong Chengfeng.

Speaking of inciting Prince Han to murder and rebel.

This was her certificate of allegiance to him—Dong Chengfeng, I have no malice toward you. If I did, you wouldn’t be in my carriage now.

After one cup of tea, he was still staring at her.

Yan Sanhe calculated the time and said: “What, have flowers bloomed on my face?”

Dong Chengfeng’s fingertips trembled slightly. “How did you get me out?”

Yan Sanhe told the truth: “First knocked you unconscious, then loaded you into a carriage to leave the city. After leaving the city, we switched to another carriage. It took quite some effort.”

“Aren’t you afraid someone will come looking…”

Dong Chengfeng laughed coldly, then emphasized: “…and implicate you?”

“Afraid!”

Yan Sanhe: “But dead people won’t implicate others.”

“…”

After prolonged deathly silence, Dong Chengfeng burst into unbridled laughter. “Ha ha ha ha ha…”

He’d designed his own disappearance.

This girl was even more ruthless—directly making him into a dead man.

The carriage stopped. The driver stuck his head in.

Yan Sanhe waved her hand. “It’s fine.”

Xue Zhao cast a cold glance at Dong Chengfeng and lowered the curtain.

After receiving Third Master Xie’s letter, the master had immediately ordered him to depart. His mission, besides driving, was to protect Miss Yan well—not allowing her to lose even a single hair.

Daring to laugh at Miss Yan—his skin was itching.

After laughing enough, Dong Chengfeng picked up the teacup from the small table and drained it in one gulp. “Who gave you the name Yan Sanhe?”

Yan Sanhe was startled by his question.

“Not pleasant to hear. Not pleasant at all.”

Dong Chengfeng tapped his finger on the teacup, signaling Yan Sanhe to pour him another cup.

This time, it was Yan Sanhe’s turn to look at him incredulously.

Only two people were in the carriage.

Two people, two auras.

From the instant Dong Chengfeng opened his eyes and saw her, she’d felt his entire body tense to the extreme.

But after laughing heartily, he seemed to transform into a different person, suddenly relaxing.

Was it because hearing he was a dead man made him feel completely safe?

“An elder named me. Pleasant or not, I must accept it.”

Yan Sanhe poured tea for him, speaking as if making small talk. “By the way, what’s your alias at Prince Han’s residence?”

“Dong Xiao.”

Dong Chengfeng picked up the teacup, casually asking: “How is that name?”

Yan Sanhe shook her head. “Chengfeng is better.”

“Better how?”

“Flows off the tongue.”

Dong Chengfeng froze, his gaze at her instantly becoming unfocused.

Damn, whose tone of speech was that like?

His?

Or hers?

(This morning I received a call from home—my father suffered a stroke and was hospitalized. It happened suddenly and caught us off guard. Today’s update is normal. The next few days I can only maintain one update. When the situation improves, we’ll return to normal. I’m asking for your understanding.)