Chapter 2: The Little Medicine Box

Shen Zhaozhao slapped the letter of repudiation onto the bridal bed.

Zhan Nanxing’s gaze was complicated as he looked at the letter.

Thick-skinned, Shen Zhaozhao gave a cheeky grin, so long as he didn’t throw her out, that was enough.

She was all in.

Cupping her face in her hands, she crouched beside him and tilted her head up to gaze at him:

“Husband dislikes me so much—surely it must be my fault.”

“I shouldn’t stay and make Husband hate me even more, but—”

“I’ve left my heart here with you.”

Shen Zhaozhao did her utmost to maintain an infatuated and adoring gaze.

A long while passed.

“Miss Shen, wasn’t there someone else in your heart?” Zhan Nanxing finally averted his probing gaze.

This young lady of the Shen family had thrown a full-blown tantrum upon hearing of their betrothal—crying, shouting, and even threatening to hang herself.

She’d rather die than marry him.

All for the sake of her beloved.

“So it was because of him that Husband grew to detest me like this?”

Shen Zhaozhao covered her mouth, her eyes rimmed with red.

“It’s not like the rumors say—I wasn’t in love with someone else. It was just… a close friend of mine. She always asked me to deliver letters to that person on her behalf…”

Shen Zhaozhao trailed off, hesitant.

If she kept fabricating, the more she said, the more likely she’d slip up.

“It’s my fault for letting Husband misunderstand.” Shen Zhaozhao’s eyes were red, but she clung to him shamelessly.

Zhan Nanxing turned back to look at her.

Shen Zhaozhao immediately put on a shy expression—deeply enamored yet too timid to meet his gaze.

Zhan Nanxing turned his eyes away in distaste.

His instincts told him this woman was faking it.

As a military general who had faced death countless times on the battlefield, he was young, but his instincts had never been wrong.

Especially when it came to those infatuated gazes—he had seen far too many of them.

Back when the Zhan family still held the glory of being founding heroes of the realm.

Back when his grandfather had been granted the title of Grand General Who Guards the Nation.

Back when they returned triumphantly to the capital again and again, riding high on horseback, brimming with pride and honor.

And yet—only now, after this defeat, did he see gazes that feared him like the plague.

“Get out.”

Zhan Nanxing’s handsome face was frosted over with icy disdain.

This woman must have ulterior motives—there was no other reason she would insist on staying.

He gave a light cough, lay down, and turned his back to her, unwilling to see that deceitful face any longer.

Ignored, Shen Zhaozhao was politely but firmly escorted out by the young servant Zhan Ping.

Right now, she was just a delicate and helpless maiden of the inner chambers—some things had to be done behind closed doors.

The long night stretched on.

Two shadowy figures scaled the walls of the General’s Residence, heading straight for the bridal chamber.

Outside the Courtyard, there was a faint *click*—a soft sound breaking the stillness. Then, half a head peeked over the top of the wall.

From that vantage point, the entire Courtyard lay clearly in sight. The figure turned and signaled to his companion.

The companion let out a soft chuckle, speaking with disdain:

“The Zhan family has fallen so low they don’t even have a single guard left. Just go in and bring me that brat’s head.”

“Finish it early and we can still make it to the brothel for some tunes.”

As he spoke, he gave a strong flick of his wrist, and the man on the wall leapt nimbly over and into the Courtyard.

The one left at the gate yawned, idly waiting for his companion to come back out with Zhan Nanxing’s head.

This task was far too easy.

But after waiting for quite a while, there was no sound at all from inside the walls. The man on watch began to feel that something was off—but then again, Zhan Nanxing was a cripple now, hardly worth worrying about.

He rubbed his chin, eyes drifting toward the large red lantern at the gate with the character for *Double Happiness* painted on it. A lecherous grin spread across his face.

Oh right.

Tonight was Zhan Nanxing’s wedding night.

The thought of a delicate young bride, veiled in red, as beautiful as a flower, waiting inside the Courtyard made his whole body heat up with lust.

“Damn bastard,” the man in black spat, irritated. “Bet he’s too busy rolling around with that little beauty to remember I’m out here waiting.”

He stepped back a few paces, then kicked off the ground and vaulted over the wall.

The Courtyard was empty.

He walked straight to the door of the chamber, lifted his hand, and gave it a push. It didn’t budge.

Frowning, he pressed harder—still no movement.

A jolt of unease crept through his chest.

“Hey.”

A delicate hand landed lightly on his shoulder, followed by a gentle, feminine voice behind him. “Did you come in looking for that man just now?”

The man in black spun around sharply, eyes alert as he stared at the woman before him, dressed in a full bridal ensemble.

Bathed in moonlight, her willow-like brows curved gently, her eyes shimmered like spring water, her straight nose and soft breath exuded a subtle fragrance.

Seeing it was a woman, the man in black lowered his guard—she must be Zhan Nanxing’s newlywed bride.

“That’s right, little lady,” he chuckled lewdly, reaching out to touch Shen Zhaozhao’s smooth, jade-like cheek.

Shen Zhaozhao also reached out—her hand landed on his neck.

A ripple of pleasure surged through the man.

So the little lady was willing. This job really was the full package—easy money, and a bit of stolen sweetness…

*Crack.*

The man’s grin was still frozen on his face when he heard a brittle snap from his own neck. The woman’s smile blurred in his vision.

The last trace of disbelief flickered through his eyes.

And then—his instincts disappeared forever.

“Oof, so heavy,” Shen Zhaozhao grunted softly as she dragged the corpse into a side room in the Courtyard.

Inside, another man in black already lay dead.

Shen Zhaozhao stripped the newly killed man bare, searching his clothes. She found a few bits of silver, but no token or badge that could reveal his identity.

She had no intention of digging too deep for Zhan Nanxing’s sake.

As long as Zhan Nanxing didn’t die, that was enough.

As for the corpses—now that was a bit of a problem. Killing was easy, but burying bodies? That was a pain. And digging a pit in the Courtyard in the dead of night? Not ideal.

Suddenly, an idea struck her.

The scene shifted.

She was now in a strange space—rows of empty shelves stretched before her. On the very first shelf sat a small, pale green medicine box.

Its exterior was worn and tattered, utterly unremarkable.

Yet this was the same little medicine box that had accompanied her on countless missions, had helped her save countless lives—and it had somehow come with her here!

Without hesitation, she opened it.

The box was nearly empty. No common medicines in sight—only a single brown glass bottle, its label marked: *Corpse-Dissolving Fluid*.

Shen Zhaozhao hugged the medicine box and kissed it hard.

Just when she needed it most—someone had brought her a pillow for her nap.

With a thought, she returned to the side room, still holding the medicine box and the bottle of Corpse-Dissolving Fluid.

To make things easier, Shen Zhaozhao stacked the two bodies together. As she shifted them, something caught her eye—a strange tattoo on the assassin’s back. The design was unusual. She rolled the other body over to check.

The same tattoo was inked there as well.

Shen Zhaozhao stayed cautious. She took paper and brush, carefully sketching a copy of the tattoo before sprinkling the Corpse-Dissolving Fluid over the bodies.

With a sharp *hiss*, the liquid sizzled on contact, the corpses beginning to smoke and rot away, releasing a pungent, acrid stench. Shen Zhaozhao quickly backed out of the side room with the little medicine box in her arms and shut the door behind her.

By dawn, no one would know that a murder had taken place in this courtyard.

In the main room, red candles wept wax tears.

When Shen Zhaozhao slipped back in, Zhan Nanxing still lay with his back to her—it was impossible to tell if he was asleep.

After a long, busy night, Shen Zhaozhao confirmed that Zhan Nanxing was still alive, finally letting out a breath of relief. She sat down at the Eight Immortals table in the room, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion.

*Thunk—*

Her forehead hit the table softly, and she fell asleep.

In her dream—

Shen Zhaozhao was offering tea to her mother-in-law.

A young servant stumbled in frantically, shouting that an imperial decree had arrived.

The entire Zhan family rushed to the main hall to kneel and receive the edict.

Zhan Manor was to be raided. The entire household was to be exiled to the northern frontier.

A man on horseback raised his whip and pointed at Zhan Nanxing, who sat in his wooden wheelchair, demanding why he did not kneel.

Zhan Nanxing lifted his head, eyes fierce and unruly.

The horseman laughed triumphantly—and struck the elderly Madam Zhan across the back with his whip.

Zhan Nanxing’s eyes reddened with fury. Dragging his crippled leg, he drew a dagger from his sleeve and lunged forward.

But wounded and weak, he only managed to slash the man’s leg before being forced to the ground by soldiers—and was executed on the spot.

Soon after, a second imperial edict arrived.

The Zhan family was charged with treason, with attempting to assassinate a court official, and defying imperial authority. The sentence was changed from exile to execution.

The entire Zhan family, Shen Zhaozhao included, was taken to the Meridian Gate.

As the executioner’s blade fell, Shen Zhaozhao once again saw that stone monument.

But this time, the inscription had changed.

**\[Zhan Nanxing died attempting to assassinate an official during the manor’s seizure. The Zhan family defied imperial decree and was executed in full at the Meridian Gate.]**

Shen Zhaozhao jolted awake, bolting upright like a fish out of water, heart pounding from the nightmare.