Chapter 2

For the first time, Shao Qing felt strongly that a person could indeed have an aura. Even though he appeared down and out, Wei Jing carried an indescribable sense of oppression. Despite the many riffraff at Hongyu Pavilion, even within a foot of him, the space remained like a vacuum. He had thick, jet-black eyebrows that swept toward his temples, a sharply defined, hooked nose, and long, graceful eyelids that lifted ever so slightly—a remarkably handsome young man. Yet his closed eyes and narrowly pursed lips betrayed a cold, indifferent air that kept others at a distance.

Shao Qing thought it was perfectly natural; anyone in his position might well grow cynical. Pausing for a moment, she softly called, “Husband?”

This ordinary appellation that women use for their spouses nowadays was not something she called out lightly—she had steeled herself mentally before speaking so casually. Unfortunately, no one answered.

Wei Jing remained utterly motionless. A gust of wind stirred a lock of hair draping over his cheek, yet he ignored it completely, and the silent pavilion was filled only with torrential rain.

In the spacious pavilion, armed constables were intently watching the area. Feeling immense pressure, Shao Qing gritted her teeth and whispered, “Husband? You should eat something—haven’t you had hardly anything these past two days?”

She boldly reached out, intending to tug at his sleeve gently. But just as her hand made contact, the man opposite suddenly opened his eyes.

Hiss! How can one describe the look in his eyes? They were so cold, so icy—beneath a figurative layer of frost lay deep-seated vigilance as if he were a wolf king betrayed by his pack. Though he had fought his way through a battle to cling to life, now, grievously wounded and wandering the grasslands alone, he appeared vicious and predatory, bristling with hostility toward any creature that dared approach, ready to pounce and tear them apart at any moment.

It seemed as though his nose could even catch the scent of blood. Shao Qing’s heart pounded wildly, and the skin along her back prickled, each hair rising alarmingly at the palpable force.

For a fleeting moment, she hesitated—was it wise to pin all her hopes on such a dangerous man? Was it a mistake to trust the very person she believed held her only chance of escape?

But she had no better option. Quickly suppressing her doubts, Shao Qing tore off a small piece of steamed bun and brought it to his lips, saying, “You should eat a little. How will you have strength if you don’t?”

Her words came from the heart—after all, she had staked her hope for freedom on him. Still, Wei Jing did not budge. He stared at her with an impassive, distant look, as though the small piece of bun at his lips were utterly invisible.

Not even a twitch of his pupils—the man, holding that piece of steamed bun in his hand, waited there amid the drumming rain, and the atmosphere grew unbearably awkward.

Shao Qing neither advanced nor retreated. Her heart raced as she braced herself and softly added, “Husband, please don’t be like this.”

She struggled to recall her pitiful predicament—trapped on every side with no escape—and her heart ached as she murmured, “The way you are, you always wound those who care for you.”

Loving ones feel pain, while enemies take delight!

“Think about that hypocritical emperor who deceived you for twenty years! Think about your mother and imperial brother who have already passed into the realm of the dead! And then, consider the exalted Noble Consort and her son!”

At this, Wei Jing’s breathing deepened suddenly. With her eyes lowered, Shao Qing noticed that his long, slender hands—bound tightly by heavy shackles—had clutched into fists, the blue veins clearly visible.

Soon, his breathing returned to normal, and his clenched hands, hidden beneath his robe and shackles, went unnoticed by anyone except Shao Qing, who had perceived that fleeting change.

Yet, he slightly parted his thin lips and swallowed the small piece of steamed bun.

Shao Qing was overjoyed. She tore the bun into pieces one after another and fed every scrap to Wei Jing. Finally, she picked up a broken clay bowl from the ground—carefully avoiding the side with the larger chip—and gently pressed it against his lips.

He glanced at her and drank from it.

The clay bowl was very small and chipped; it could hold only about two mouthfuls of water. Shao Qing then took the bowl again, went to the outer side of the small pavilion, reached out, and fetched another bowlful.

As before, Wei Jing drank silently. When he finished, he gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.

That meant he would drink no more.

Shao Qing went along with it, gathering the broken bowl into her small bundle and finding a place to sit down. Having achieved the desired result, no more was needed; she ceased making contact with Wei Jing, merely wiping the water from her face and the wet sleeve, and sat quietly.

However, she chose a seat behind him so as not to catch his eye or appear overtly intimate.

Wei Jing closed his eyes once again, remaining motionless. The armed constables in the pavilion opposite—even those carrying knives—did not seem troubled by the couple’s brief display of closeness; the earlier incident had scarcely registered with them.

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The heavy rain had come on with tremendous force and left just as quickly. By the afternoon, the scorching, brilliant sun reappeared, and the constables immediately shouted orders to drive a group of fugitive prisoners onward.

With the heat intensifying, the air grew both sultry and humid. The earthen road beneath her feet, washed into a muddy mess by the rain, was dotted with puddles of various sizes and depths.

After her bout of high fever, Shao Qing’s mind still felt a bit dazed, and the blisters on her feet—now burst and damaged—soaked in the muddy water, causing searing pain, yet she persisted, taking careful, uneven steps. She stayed by Wei Jing’s side. When the constables paused to fetch and drink water, she would squeeze forward with her little chipped bowl—first gulping down two bowls herself, then drawing water and carefully offering it to him.

When night finally set in and the activity slowed, she was first to find a somewhat cleaner spot. After a brief tidy-up, she softly called Wei Jing over and then fed him, alternating between food and water. Though she hardly ever spoke, her care was constant and meticulous.

Wei Jing remained silent and as cold as ever—but at least he never rejected Shao Qing. Gradually, she no longer confined herself to sitting behind him; on occasion, she would sit by his side, and at night, when it came time to sleep, she mustered her courage and curled up next to him.

Shao Qing felt that Wei Jing was making some progress; if a chance to escape arose, he might very well be inclined to help her along.

However, the greatest obstacle now was the key—she had found no way to get close to the set of keys kept by Chief Chen.

Chief Chen was even more cautious than Shao Qing had expected. Whether he stepped aside to take care of personal needs or went to sleep at night, he always had five constables guarding him. The key was securely tied to his wrist with a rope, and he only laid down to sleep after covering his chest.

The subordinate officials brought provisions, steaming buns and coarse cakes once a day to serve as the sole food for the day. Chief Chen never allowed any of the prisoners to come near, completely shutting down any possibility of obtaining food through them.

Shao Qing felt rather uneasy, but she made every effort to suppress her agitation. She couldn’t be hasty or reckless—she had to remain composed, for opportunities favor those who are prepared.

That evening, although dusk had come a little earlier than usual, they noticed two waystations by the roadside, meaning there was no need to sleep in the wilderness. So, Chief Chen ordered the group to stop.

A packet of cold cakes, steamed that morning, was tossed over. Despite her heavy thoughts, Shao Qing was the first to reach out and grab a few.

When she returned to Wei Jing’s side, she couldn’t help but steal a furtive glance at Chief Chen. He stood with his hands on his hips about seven or eight paces away, his face stern as he glared at a group of prisoners gathered to take food. The subordinate officials were arranged in a tight circle, meticulously guarding the area from top to bottom, fearing that someone might stir up trouble amid the chaos.

Shao Qing dared not look further—her position was under strict surveillance. When her sight briefly swept over the key pouch at Chief Chen’s waist, she immediately looked away.

“The cakes are a bit dry—have some water to moisten them,” someone said.

Shao Qing then sat down right there; instead of tearing off a piece of cake, she lifted the earthen bowl that she had just used to fetch water, intending to bring it to Wei Jing’s lips.

“Sit to the side,” came Wei Jing’s first words. His voice was low and hoarse. He slightly lifted his chin to indicate that Shao Qing should not sit directly opposite him. With his peripheral vision, he glanced toward Chief Chen, briefly darting to the small cloth pouch Shao Qing had noticed earlier. His eyes were exceptionally sharp as he silently scanned the surroundings.

“Oh, oh.” Shao Qing was quite surprised—he had actually spoken to her and even made a gesture. Immediately, she stood and moved to sit on his left side in front of him.

Although Wei Jing’s scanning of the area was nothing more than a subtle movement of his eyeballs, Shao Qing, who was just inches away, noticed it. This slight departure from his usual demeanor caused her heart to beat a little faster, and she couldn’t help but turn her head to take another quick look.

This station pavilion was built midway up the mountain. From where they sat, one could see the winding earthen path below, and the unchanging, undulating expanse of deep green. The humid mountain wind blew, not offering any cool relief but instead making one break into a sweat.

They were seated right at the wind’s edge. Although there was a pillar at which Wei Jing could lean, it was hardly comfortable—the only notable detail being that Wei Jing had chosen that spot himself. Initially, Shao Qing had selected a more sheltered pillar inside the pavilion, but he silently sat on the other one. Though surprised, she said nothing and let it be.

All these subtle irregularities made Shao Qing’s skin prickle, yet when she glanced back, nothing unusual appeared, so she suppressed her unease. She picked her bowl up once more, letting Wei Jing take a sip of water first. Then, she broke off a small piece of bun and moved to offer it to his lips.

Everything proceeded as usual—except that Shao Qing had to lean over from the side to pass him the bun because of his tall, well-built stature. Just as she began to rise and lift her hand, she noticed Wei Jing’s pupils contract sharply.

In that instant, a flash of silvery-white, frigid light burst forth and raced like lightning. Wei Jing’s head jerked sharply to one side with a dull “thud” sound as a short arrow forged of fine iron grazed his throat and lodged deeply into the wooden pillar behind him.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye, too rapidly for ordinary Shao Qing to react. Even as the arrow’s tail continued to hum urgently, a dark figure had already leaped out from the dense forest, a gleaming cold blade in hand, thrusting directly toward Wei Jing’s heart.

Wei Jing quickly rose to his feet—his movement so forceful that he directly knocked Shao Qing to the ground. Bound in heavy iron shackles on both his hands and feet, with a finely crafted chain wrapped tightly around each collarbone, his upper body was rendered almost powerless and he moved slowly. Fortunately, he had prepared for this; he immediately retreated behind a pillar, narrowly dodging what could have been a fatal blow.

“Help, someone! Assassins! There are assassins!!”

Shao Qing finally understood why he had told her to sit on his left side. Ignoring her pain, she rolled across the ground using his momentum; once she managed to create some space, she immediately screamed at the top of her lungs.

In fact, she hadn’t even needed to shout—by that time, a group of constables had already drawn their knives with a swift whoosh and charged forward.

Shao Qing turned to look back and gasped: Oh my god, these black-clad assassins aren’t just one—they’re a whole group of thirty or forty!

Chief Chen was the fastest. He dashed over and swung his blade at the leader, forcing the latter to halt his attack on Wei Jing and sidestep to block.

The black-clad assassins and the constables soon became entangled in a chaotic melee. The clashing weapons rang out with a “ding ding, zheng zheng” as a spray of fresh blood burst forth; someone screamed in agony before collapsing dead on the ground. Meanwhile, the elderly, weak women and children among Shao Qing’s companions shrieked in terror and scattered into the woods. Her heart leaped with hope—the perfect opportunity to escape had arrived.

Shao Qing immediately stood up to join the fleeing crowd, but just then, two black-clad assassins leaped into the group of fugitives. With their blades rising and falling in a flurry, they unleashed a ruthless massacre.

These fugitives, too, were among the targets of the assassins. Like wolves among sheep, the killers hacked and slashed as if cutting through ripe fruit—fresh blood spattered everywhere, limbs were severed, and before her eyes, the scene turned into a vast expanse of red as seven or eight corpses fell lifelessly.

Before Shao Qing could even take a step, she was forcibly halted.

What should she do?!
Which escape plan was the best?!

Her mind raced like a flash of lightning, but no sooner had she begun to straighten than a huge shadow swept over her head.

Without a moment to spare, she instantly leaped backward.

At that moment, Chief Chen’s blood spattered, drenching Shao Qing’s head and face, and a corpse crashed heavily in front of her, sending clods of dirt flying.

“The key!!”

Shao Qing kept her peripheral gaze fixed on Wei Jing. Even though the assassins were exceedingly agile, the sheer number of constables managed to block most of them; only the leader slipped through—having dealt with Chief Chen’s counterattack—and turned to press his assault on Wei Jing. He circled a pavilion pillar to evade; though it was a risky maneuver, it enabled him to barely hold his ground.

Shao Qing pounced on Chief Chen without hesitation, yanking the key from his waist. Clenching her teeth, she dashed toward Wei Jing.