A’Zuo frowned: “What does the Princess mean by this?”

I picked up the book with the needle embedded in it from the table and waved it in front of A’Zuo and A’You, asking: “If someone were to use this type of poisoned needle weapon against you in secret, could you avoid it?”

The two exchanged knowing glances and said in unison: “Difficult.”

I placed the book back on the table: “You are shadow guards trained for many years by the Bright Mirror Bureau, with superior qinggong, yet even you couldn’t avoid it?”

A’You frowned: “To avoid concealed weapons, in bright places one uses eyes, in dark places one uses ears. Even the sound of a needle tip hitting the ground is hard to distinguish, let alone…”

A’Zuo said: “However, because the needle body is so small, even if struck, it must penetrate the heart meridian to cause rapid death. If one truly wanted to use it in darkness, some light would be necessary to aim the poisoned needle.”

I pondered briefly, then extinguished the lamp in the room and turned my head toward the window. Moonlight fell into the room, and I could still make out the silhouettes of A’Zuo and A’You. I stepped forward and closed the window, plunging the room into complete darkness.

When I reopened the window, moonlight illuminated A’Zuo and A’You’s faces, and the confusion in their expressions showed a trace of clarity.

I said lightly: “It’s late into the night. We should retire early.”

Upon hearing this, A’Zuo and A’You retreated to their hidden positions, one inside and one outside. I felt no drowsiness and sat on the bed with my arms around my knees, quietly contemplating.

The painted boat had sunk to the river bottom, and the Ministry of Justice and capital magistrate’s office had confirmed that the corpse floating by the shore was me. Under circumstances that should have been thoroughly investigated, the Prince Consort was immediately placed under house arrest upon appearing—clearly someone had set a trap in advance. For the Chief Minister of the Cabinet to take charge was natural, but for the Assistant Minister Li Guojiu, with the Princess dead and the Crown Prince unconscious, the internal factions would surely be in chaos, with the Lingnan faction and Jianghuai party inevitably clashing. Killing me would not only bring no benefit to the two Chief Ministers, but could even shake their own positions of power…

Given all these circumstances, the identity of the mastermind behind the scenes was about to be revealed…

And I had appeared at the Imperial Academy in full view just when the opponent thought their sinister plot was about to succeed. Their spy planted among the students would immediately report back.

For this mastermind, what was within easy reach would be destroyed by my appearance.

If I were in his position, I would find it impossible to understand why I would appear alone at the Imperial Academy. Princess Xiangyi was no pushover—having escaped death several times, he would be wary of deception and proceed cautiously.

But could he afford to be cautious?

Once dawn came and I returned to the palace to resume my regency, all his schemes would be in vain. It was impossible he wouldn’t panic.

If I were him, I would spare no effort to eliminate this future threat.

Indeed, upon hearing the “devastating news” about Lu Lingjun, I had lost my judgment and now found myself in an extremely dangerous situation.

Lu Lingjun was merely a minor student at the Imperial Academy—there was no reason for him to be assassinated at this time. The most likely possibility was that it was because of this Princess.

How detestable that Brother Lu was so smooth-talking and unreliable that it was impossible to extract anything crucial from him.

The only thing I knew was that someone lurked within the Imperial Academy, ready to strike at us at any moment.

I couldn’t ensure whether the two shadow guards crouched on the roof could protect me completely, nor could I guarantee that my deductions so far were free of errors.

However.

I glanced sideways at the dim moonlight filtering into the sleeping quarters and let out a long breath.

However, whether in the open or shadows, regardless of numbers of opponents, those steeped in court intrigue only had deeper schemes. The affairs of this world were inherently changeable—if one only made decisions with certainty, how could one achieve unexpected victory?

Thinking of this, I heard the sound of a door bolt slowly moving.

Though extremely faint, when it entered my ears, it made my entire body tense. I propped myself up on the edge of the bed and lay flat.

The intruder moved extremely slowly, without even the slightest creaking sound from the door. In just a glimpse, a shadow suddenly darted through the gap they had opened, their movement so agile it made no sound at all. Without pausing for even a moment, white light flashed—a gleaming blade was striking toward my location. This series of actions was executed without any hesitation. I silently cursed, rolled over, and yanked hard on the rope I had already gripped in my palm.

The window suddenly slammed shut, plunging the room into darkness, and that strike hit empty air.

The rope was naturally something I had pre-tied to the window. Since A’Zuo and A’You were shadow guards, familiar with identifying people by sound in darkness, when faced with sudden loss of light, their actions would surely differ from ordinary people.

Tricks were still tricks—at crucial moments I still had to rely on A’Zuo and A’You. At this moment, apart from fighting sounds, I could discern nothing. I didn’t know if they could subdue the assassin working together. I crouched by the bed, vaguely hearing the “hiss” of a blade cutting through flesh and skin, my heart sinking. Then I heard the “clang” of a blade falling to the ground, and only then did I breathe a sigh of relief.

So in a chaotic situation that only martial arts masters could understand while this Princess remained completely clueless, A’You cried out “Careful, Princess!” A black shadow flashed forward and pressed down on me. Unable to avoid it, that person’s form suddenly stiffened, let out a muffled groan, and collapsed motionless on top of me.

So… captured? Just like that?

My eyebrow twitched. Just as I was about to ask what had happened, I saw someone crash through the window with a bang, the force so great it smashed a hole in the window frame.

Light poured back into the room. A’You stood by the window, his sharp gaze sweeping over: “The assassin escaped. This may be a diversion. This subordinate should remain to protect the Princess.”

I couldn’t think clearly for a moment.

So the one sprawled on top of me now was A’Zuo?

I struggled to extricate myself and immediately saw the dense array of small needles covering A’Zuo’s back—a shocking sight.

“This is… the Torrential Pear Blossom Needles?”

A’You approached: “We originally thought that in darkness it would be impossible to use poisoned needles against the Princess, and we had a chance of victory in close combat. We didn’t expect the villain to use such a vicious concealed weapon. If A’Zuo hadn’t sacrificed himself to shield the Princess, I fear disaster would have been unavoidable. Princess, this place is truly not safe to remain…”

“What ‘truly’ what,” I said with trembling hands, “The urgent matter is first figuring out what to do about A’Zuo…”

A’You frowned: “Him?”

I nodded.

A’You’s face showed complete indifference: “Why not first throw his corpse onto the roof? The Bright Mirror Bureau will naturally send someone to clean up later.”

“…”

I stared blankly at A’Zuo’s pale profile, unable to believe that someone who had been alive and energetic just moments before had suddenly died, died so silently. After all, he had died to save this Princess—how could he not even leave a single dying word…

“…Your Highness need not grieve for this subordinate…” A’Zuo’s eyes, which had been closed for so long, suddenly opened, looking at me with a gaze that was steady, weak, and desolately sorrowful: “Such a death is the destiny of shadow guards. To save the Princess’s life, even death brings honor—I die without regret…”

I: “…”

A flash of reluctance crossed A’Zuo’s eyes: “The Princess must not blame herself…”

I turned to ask A’You: “…Did the assassin forget to poison the needles…”

A’Zuo: “…”

A’You pondered for a moment: “A’Zuo, did you wear the silk vest today?”

I was startled: “What silk vest?”

A’You explained: “A vest woven from silk and gold thread that can protect against swords and concealed weapons. It’s A’Zuo’s family heirloom.”

Upon hearing this, A’Zuo first stiffened all over, then suddenly sat up straight and felt around his body: “I did wear it. I completely forgot.”

I: “…”

A’You: “…”

So the tragic heroic appearance of collapsing on the bed after being struck by needles was purely self-suggestion?

I hazily wondered if I should request that the Bright Mirror Bureau replace these shadow guards.

Speaking of which, since the assassin possessed such a vicious weapon as the Torrential Pear Blossom Needles, why did they only use one or two needles when assassinating Lu Lingjun?

“In your opinion, could it be… uh, never mind.”

In the blink of an eye, the two shadow guards who had just been lingering nearby had vanished again. When I turned around, the elusive Lu Lingjun had somehow pushed through the door and entered, urgently grasping my shoulders: “Brother Bai, what happened here?”

I said: “As you can see, someone tried to kill me.”

Lu Lingjun circled around me from top to bottom, left to right, and seeing I was unharmed, asked: “Where’s the assassin?”

“Long gone…”

I fell silent.

In the chaos earlier, I had indeed heard the sound of someone being cut by a blade, yet A’Zuo and A’You were unharmed. Could it be…

I reached for the lamp, immediately brightening the room, and only then could I clearly see drops of blood on the floor forming a trail leading to the window.

Lu Lingjun and I stared at each other stiffly. He was first to leap out the window while I looked around woodenly, but saw no trace of a blade. When Lu Lingjun returned to urge me on, I stepped onto the platform and jumped out the window, following the blood trail as we walked and stopped.

At this time, the night was deep. We rounded corners, passed through corridors, and stopped in front of the innermost room of the dormitory building—

Second Update

This vacant room was usually uninhabited, though occasionally students who feared disturbing others’ sleep by studying late in their own rooms would move here to review their books. At this moment, no sounds could be heard outside the door, but through the door panels, one could vaguely see oil lamp flames flickering inside.

I cast a puzzled glance at Lu Lingjun. He cautiously extended his arm to shield me behind him. Just as he was about to push open the door, he first stepped in something wet.

My heart lurched. Looking down, I saw a pool of blood slowly seeping out from inside the room, its dark red color appearing eerie and shocking in the weak light.

Lu Lingjun hesitated no longer and forcefully kicked open the door. The door swung open with a crash, finally revealing the scene inside.

I don’t know what words to use to describe the bloody red sight before my eyes—those three familiar figures: one lying motionless on his side on the bed, blood continuously flowing from a knife wound on his neck; one lying face-down on the table with eyes open, still gripping an ink-stained brush, blood dripping steadily from the brush tip to the floor; and one collapsed on the ground in a crawling position, his hand clawing forward leaving bloody scratches, seemingly trying desperately to lift his head to see who had come.

Li Wen, Du Fei, Su Qiao.

Lu Lingjun helped up Su Qiao, who had collapsed on the ground. He had been stabbed twice and seemed to be the only survivor in the room, though barely breathing. Seeing us, his eyes brightened slightly. With trembling hands pointing behind him, regardless of the blood constantly seeping from his mouth, he said: “Save… save people…”

My vision blurred as I forced myself to move, checking Li Wen and Du Fei’s neck pulses one after the other, but felt nothing. I could only shake my head woodenly at Lu Lingjun. He pressed several of Su Qiao’s acupoints, trying to stop the bleeding, but blood flowed like a spring, soaking both their sleeves and fronts thoroughly. I wanted to call for help, to summon a doctor, and staggered toward the door, but heard Lu Lingjun softly say “No need.” When I turned back, Su Qiao’s eyes were open, staring vacantly ahead as if he still wanted to say something, but his breathing had stopped and he could no longer speak.

Later, when I occasionally recalled that moment, I always felt that under such circumstances, perhaps there should have been a downpour to thoroughly drench me, and finally collapsing in tears in the rain with three days and nights of severe illness might have made things much simpler. Unfortunately, heaven didn’t cooperate—that night was clear and calm, with gentle winds and still waters. The surroundings were so quiet as if nothing had happened at all, until I walked out of the room and heard Lu Lingjun’s wailing inside, until students gradually discovered the carnage, until the Ministry of Justice immediately sealed the scene and searched every corner of the Imperial Academy—all of this made me wonder if such a night was too peaceful, so peaceful that the chaos permeating my heart settled like sediment, and the tangled knots somehow loosened.

After wandering aimlessly for a while, I covered my forehead and looked around, then casually called into the air: “A’Zuo.”

A’Zuo appeared before me from some direction: “What are the Princess’s instructions?”

I asked him: “If I don’t call out, it seems impossible to detect where you’re hiding, but sometimes when I walk around randomly like this, how can there be hiding places everywhere that allow you to follow while staying hidden?”

A’Zuo probably thought my mind was damaged, asking such irrelevant questions so calmly at such a time. However, shadow guards had no right to question orders, so he just twitched his mouth and answered: “Either disguise ourselves and blend into crowds, or choose a suitable spot to ensure the Princess remains within visible range. We cannot guarantee complete safety, so the Princess should also be careful. It would be better to return to the palace early…”

I interrupted: “You and A’You go handle some matters for me. Once finished, we can return to the palace.”

After speaking, A’You drifted over from another location. Now I could see clearly that she had emerged from a large tree by the eaves. She stared at me anxiously, then lowered her eyes: “With danger lurking everywhere and assassins possibly striking again at any moment, A’Zuo and I absolutely cannot leave the Princess’s side.”

I looked up at that tree: “Is it good for hiding people? I’d like to go up and sit for a while.”

A’You said urgently: “Your Highness…” A’Zuo was about to persuade me further when I stopped wasting words with them and said sternly: “Follow orders.”

I sent A’Zuo and A’You away. After soldiers searched the Imperial Academy and found no trace of the assassin, I sat alone on the high tree branch, looking down at the Imperial Academy from my elevated position under the moonlight. Over there, the government office’s torches cast the dormitory area in a dim golden glow, while here, the living and dead appearances of Li, Du, and Su kept cycling through my mind. I couldn’t describe my feelings—some truths were emerging, but I dared not think deeply. I closed my eyes and counted, feeling the night breeze blow past, my autumn clothes thin and cold.

I think I must have dozed off.

When I opened my eyes, the Imperial Academy had returned to complete tranquility. I looked down at the tree trunk, pondering how to get down. With this glance, I saw a figure in blue robes.

The owner of the blue shadow took out a jade flute from his sleeve and slowly played a melody as gentle as silk threads, permeated with sorrowful beauty.

It was Nie Ran again.

I sighed softly.

As the Acting Director temporarily holding the Rector’s position, it was one thing to wander around during leisure time, but why could he still be so leisurely even after people had died? On second thought, never mind—as the Princess Regent who couldn’t govern the country properly and had managed to fake death quite adequately, climbing trees to sleep in the middle of the night after playing dead, what position did I have to mock others?

I quietly watched Nie Ran’s silhouette, suddenly remembering that day in front of the house in Niu Family Village when I had spoken some words in anger. At that time, Xu Fang had recovered his memory and also stood with hands behind his back watching the setting sun, saying: “Growing up in a wealthy family, desires are like fierce fire, power and influence like flames. If one doesn’t carry some cool temperament, these flames will either burn others or consume oneself.”

The Xu Fang of that time… was speaking about himself, wasn’t he?

I sighed again, and this time inadvertently sighed aloud. Nie Ran lowered his sleeves and turned around, looking up at me.

I had nowhere to hide and could only meet his slightly surprised gaze.

Nie Ran didn’t ask questions, merely maintained his posture of looking up at me. Feeling somewhat awkward, I raised my hand and said: “Director Nie, could you help me down?”

Nie Ran leaped up and brought me down from the tree with a bound. Before I could praise his qinggong, he said: “You found quite a good hiding place. If people discovered the dead Princess Xiangyi at the scene of the Imperial Academy murder case, it would inevitably cause a bloody storm.”

I brushed the leaves off my clothes: “A substitute—what waves could that make?”

Nie Ran said: “Before anyone exposes you, what difference is there between you and the real Princess?”

I continued his line of thought: “Director Nie means that there will come a day when my identity is revealed?”

Nie Ran looked at me with a stern face and remained silent.

I shrugged self-deprecatingly: “So the bloody storm isn’t avoided, but simply hasn’t arrived yet?”

Seeing my attitude, Nie Ran said: “I thought you would grieve for Li Wen, Du Fei, and the others.”

I said: “I thought you would be busy handling their funeral arrangements.”

Nie Ran’s form stiffened: “I didn’t expect you to be so heartless.”

I touched my nose: “It seems Director Nie has been hanging around me whether there’s business or not, and accidentally got infected.”

Nie Ran’s face alternated between pale and flushed, his eyes confused. I was too lazy to banter with him and was about to walk around him when he suddenly grabbed my arm, gripping it painfully: “What exactly are you thinking? What do you plan to do? Someone wants you dead, people have died because of you, yet you remain so stubborn? Willingly letting yourself be used?”

After speaking, he froze in place. I was also stunned. After a long moment, I recovered and tilted my head to look at him: “So you knew all along. You know Li, Du, and Su died because of me, and you also know I’m trapped here, yet you pretend ignorance and keep silent?”

Nie Ran remained silent. Knowing I couldn’t break free, I smiled: “So it’s the mantis stalking the cicada while the oriole waits behind. Since you have your plans, just play your oriole. Why bother provoking a small cicada like me? There’s no need for direct confrontation yet—why not continue watching from the sidelines and reaping the fisherman’s profit?”

Nie Ran stared at me in shock, unable to speak.

I asked with a smiling expression: “Are you suddenly thinking it would be more prudent to kill me? Otherwise, if someday the small cicada becomes a mighty eagle, you sparrows won’t be able to handle the consequences?”

The already quiet night became even more silent. Nie Ran lowered his voice: “Exactly how much do you know?”

I sighed wearily: “If I said I was just spouting nonsense just now, but you revealed such an expression due to guilt, would you be extremely vexed? Director Nie, Young Master Nie, do you deliberately speak ambiguous, incomprehensible words to confuse and mislead? If you have any remaining rationality, please continue lying low and don’t advance your conspiracies prematurely. Let each side compete fairly for their desired interests without causing unnecessary complications, alright?”

Nie Ran: “…”

I touched my dry eyes, feeling truly stifled: “I’ve been sleepless for nearly three days. I never anticipated that Li Wen, Du Fei, Su Qiao, they… they…”

The next moment, my body involuntarily leaned forward, and Nie Ran suddenly pulled me into his embrace: “You need say no more.”

I was stunned. This lean, this instant, overlapped perfectly with the phantom of Xu Fang’s embrace from that day.

Strange tone, familiar embrace, strange location, inexplicable peace of mind.

This time, I truly didn’t know how to put it into words.

Thunder suddenly broke the quiet night, pulling me back from my daze.

I stepped back, only to hear him say: “I simply don’t want to see you come to harm. After all, you…”

After all what? After all, I had loved him?

Rain began falling from the sky. He ultimately said nothing more, only removed his robe and covered my head with it, then released his grip, allowing raindrops to fall on him as he walked away.

I wanted to stand in this atmosphere a while longer, but since Nie Ran’s cloth robe wasn’t waterproof, I had to run all the way back to the dormitory. Only while running did I remember Lu Lingjun’s existence—I wondered if he was alright?

But he wasn’t in his room. I noticed the wooden cabinet that usually held the raincoat was empty, and my heart couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Hearing the rain outside growing heavier, I wondered where he could have gone after leaving the Imperial Academy at such a critical moment.

My hand paused mid-way to rubbing my brow as I suddenly remembered a place.

The Imperial Academy had a quiet spot by the water—grassy green slopes beside a flowing river, surrounded by neither tiles nor wood, appearing somewhat desolate. Most students didn’t like going there, but Lu Lingjun and his friends enjoyed running there to do as they pleased, like secretly roasting meat. I knew a thing or two about this.

When I arrived, the shower was gradually lessening, dark clouds drifted away, and the crescent moon emerged again.

Lu Lingjun stood at the top of the slope, his dark silhouette motionless for a long time. I didn’t know what he was thinking.

I walked to his side with my umbrella, seeing his raincoat soaked through, water dripping steadily: “Brother Lu, the rain has nearly stopped.”

Lu Lingjun turned to look at me, removed his raincoat, and leaned his head over to squeeze under the worn umbrella with me.

I: “…”

Lu Lingjun asked: “Where did you go? I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“Me? I… went to clear my head.”

Lu Lingjun made an “oh” sound, then softly called my name: “Brother Bai.”

“Mm?”

“Brother Bai.”

“… Mm.”

“I feel terrible.”

I nodded: “So do I.”

Lu Lingjun said: “Actually… my friendship with them wasn’t particularly deep. Actually… Li Wen really was quite a boring fellow. Actually… Du Fei was petty like a woman. Actually… Su Qiao was truly very long-winded…”

I nodded again: “I know.”

“But I’m very sad. Those… those future days we never paid attention to—can they only become memories now?”

Lu Lingjun paused, his voice unusually gentle: “Brother Bai, do you maintain wariness toward me and not consider me a true friend because you know nothing about me?”

“Do people need to investigate each other’s backgrounds one by one to make friends? I shook my head: “It’s just that if one can bare their true heart, the friendship would naturally deepen… Thinking about it this way, I don’t seem to have any particularly close friends… Brother Lu, do you?”

Lu Lingjun, contrary to his usual nature, no longer showed his former spirit: “Brother Bai, when I was very small, I liked a little girl…”

I interrupted his reminiscence: “How small… was very small?”

Lu Lingjun stepped back half a step and explained: “I was just gesturing my childhood height with my hands… about ten years old…”

“And then?”

“Then, I made an agreement with her, and I never saw her again after that.”

“… Mm.”

“Later I grew up, met many people and experienced many things, but I never forgot the agreement I made with her. Perhaps she had long forgotten my existence, but I always held onto a thread of hope to see her again, so I came to Bianliang.”

“Unfortunately, it seems… I came a bit late. In any case, I didn’t encounter her.”

“I was very disappointed. Honestly, I have no great interest in official career. For me, being constrained in the Imperial Academy is by no means a pleasant matter… until I met someone. He… was very interesting. At least, I enjoyed being with him, listening to him speak. For a time, I almost suspected I had the cut-sleeve preference… Once by chance, I discovered he was actually a girl. I was truly both shocked and delighted at the time…”

“Brother Bai, hearing this, you should know who that ‘he’ I’m referring to is, right?”

My thoughts were myriad. I reached out to pat his shoulder and said frankly: “Actually, as soon as you mentioned it, I knew you were talking about me.”

The eastern sky was faintly turning blue—dawn was about to break. Lu Lingjun asked out of nowhere: “Brother Bai, tell me, in worldly affections, is friendship more important, or love?”

I laughed dryly: “Forgive my dullness, but I didn’t hear which one was friendship and which was love between that little girl and that ‘he.’ Aren’t they both love? Brother Lu… if you’re a playboy, just boldly admit it. Men being fickle isn’t shameful…”

Lu Lingjun suddenly waved his sleeves, even his tone becoming desolate: “Brother Bai, can you please listen to me seriously! These words—after tonight, I fear… I’ll never have another chance to tell you…”

I didn’t ask why he said this. After a long while, I answered: “Which is more important between friendship and love isn’t the point. The point is, Brother Lu, you’ve already made your decision long ago, haven’t you?”

Lu Lingjun and I stood facing each other like this. His eyes revealed too much—he couldn’t hide it at all. He reached out to embrace me, resting his chin on my shoulder, whispering: “Brother Bai, I choose you…”

Then I heard a sharp sound.

Accompanied by piercing pain. As if in an instant, something precious had shattered.

I hesitantly looked down and saw a dagger thrust into my abdomen, and the one gripping the dagger was Lu Lingjun.

I looked up in confusion at those beautiful eyes that held no emotion or color, cold as frost: “… I choose to abandon you.”