Chapter 37

Just then, as if sensing Yun Shuang’s gaze, Jiang Xiao—who had been speaking with Magistrate Ding—suddenly looked up, his dark eyes locking directly onto hers.

Their eyes met, and Yun Shuang’s heart involuntarily stirred. She couldn’t help but feel that something in this man’s gaze had changed—it had grown noticeably gentler than before. She was standing at a diagonal angle from him and, after some thought, was about to walk over—when suddenly, from behind the guesthouse door, a flash of silver revealed the twisted, vicious face of Chang Zijun lurking in the shadows. Her heart jolted. Instinctively, she shouted, “General Jiang, look out!”

Almost the instant she spoke, Chang Zijun launched forward like an arrow, silently attacking Jiang Xiao.

Jiang Xiao spun around, swiftly drawing the blade from his waist and slashing forward.

Blood splattered instantly. Chang Zijun let out a scream and staggered back, clutching his wounded shoulder, roaring, “Attack! The Luo family’s done for! If we injure Jiang Xiao, His Majesty will reward us handsomely!”

Before he finished speaking, countless black-clad figures sprang from all directions, surrounding the guesthouse entrance.

Yun Shuang, who hadn’t yet managed to leave, was trapped inside as well. Her chest tightened. She spun around to face the rushing wave of black-clad attackers, her mind racing. Though she’d once been a criminal investigator and knew some basic combat moves, this body had never been trained—and she’d only just recovered from a serious illness. There was no way she could take on so many assailants. And she had no weapon. Even if she did, it wouldn’t matter—she only knew how to use a gun.

Before she could think of an escape plan, the attackers charged with furious cries. In the next breath, a searing heat enveloped her wrist—a powerful tug yanked her forward, and she crashed hard into a broad, burning-hot chest. Her veiled hat flew off from the impact. Her nose felt like it had been broken.

Before the sharp pain subsided, a familiar metallic scent flooded her senses—blood. Jiang Xiao had pulled her tightly into his arms. With every motion, her body jostled and collided with his, and in the corner of her vision, she could see the glint of blades, the flash of swords, and a haze of thick, dark crimson. In her ears, the clash of weapons and cries of agony rang out constantly.

As Yan Fang fought, he bellowed, “You brats have no idea how high the heavens are—charging straight at our General! You probably won’t even know how you died!”

Yun Shuang couldn’t see clearly what was happening outside. In the corner of her vision, shadows darted about chaotically—friend or foe, it was impossible to tell. Her heart couldn’t help but grow anxious. She remembered: Jiang Xiao had only brought Yan Fang and two junior soldiers with him this time, while the enemy had far more people. What if they couldn’t hold out?

But before worry could spiral further, the man holding her suddenly paused. His grip around her shoulder loosened slightly, though screams and clashing steel still echoed all around. She couldn’t tell if this was a tactical pause or if things had truly settled. With no clear answer, she stayed still, quietly nestled in his embrace.

Then Yan Fang’s loud, teasing voice rang out: “Miss Yun, seeing how you stared at those corpses without blinking, I thought maybe you’d been born the wrong gender. But now—turns out you’re just a regular woman after all, hah!”

Yun Shuang stiffened. Flustered, she shoved the man in front of her away. Looking up, she saw him gazing down, as though he’d been watching her the entire time. Watching her act foolishly—like a silly little fawn curled up in his arms.

Looking beyond, black-clad attackers were sprawled across the ground. Only a few remained, and the two junior soldiers were more than capable of handling them.

Frustration flared in Yun Shuang’s chest. She said expressionlessly, “Now that the situation’s under control, General Jiang—why didn’t you say something?”

And you were still holding me!

Jiang Xiao paused, his voice low. “I thought… you were scared.”

A moment ago, she had clung to him tightly—slender, fair hands gripping his collar like she feared he’d cast her off. Even when he stopped moving, she stayed frozen in place.

Jiang Xiao had meant to let her go. But for some reason, he hadn’t. One arm wrapped around her slim shoulder, the other clutching his blood-soaked blade. He glanced down at the dark crown of her hair. For the first time, he didn’t know what to do. He only knew: the woman in his arms felt unimaginably soft. So soft, it was as though she had no bones at all. If he pressed her too gently, she might fall apart.

Yun Shuang: “!!!”

Scared? What nonsense! She was just worried that moving around too much might get in his way!

The man had just saved her—she couldn’t very well snap at him. So she clenched her teeth silently and said, “Then thank you, General Jiang.”

But when she thought about it more, this whole mess had happened because of him in the first place. So that thank-you came out rather reluctantly.

Yan Fang, oblivious as ever, suddenly leaned over, mouth agape. “No way, Miss Yun—did you cry because you were scared?”

The woman in front of him had red-rimmed eyes, a misty gaze, and a delicate little nose that was flushed pink—like she’d just cried her heart out. It was unexpectedly endearing.

Yun Shuang: “…” She couldn’t hold it in anymore. Gritting her teeth, she snapped, “I did NOT cry! Your General’s chest is as hard as a rock! I nearly broke my nose slamming into him!”

Her tone was brimming with exasperation—there was no hiding it.

Jiang Xiao: “…” His brow twitched slightly, his fingers stirred—he suddenly had the odd urge to reach out and touch her little red nose.

Just then, the two junior soldiers finished off the rest of the black-clad enemies. Without mercy, they tightly bound the battered Chang Zijun and threw him down at Jiang Xiao’s feet. They saluted. “General, the area appears to be clear—no ambushes.”

Jiang Xiao pulled himself out of his thoughts and turned a cold gaze to Chang Zijun. “When did you defect to Jinmeng Kingdom?”

By now, Chang Zijun had nothing left to lose. He laughed bitterly, then shouted with fury, “A spy from Jinmeng found me half a year ago. Said I’d waste away in the Luo family, so why not pledge myself to their King? If I help him invade Da Qi, I’ll be rewarded with unimaginable glory! I won’t be the overlooked, unappreciated Chang Zijun anymore—I’ll stand above everyone!”

“But who would’ve thought… who would’ve thought…”

Who would’ve thought that Luo Dafu—who underestimated him all his life—would pull a stunt like this in the end? If it hadn’t been for that cursed will, after Luo Xueqing and Fan Youliang were taken down, he could’ve seized greater power in the Luo family. Then he would’ve worked on removing Li Youcai and Chen Hao too, and the entire Luo estate would be his. He could’ve served the King even better!

This was his first mission after defecting to Jinmeng—and he botched it. He knew it now: he was finished. Even if he fled to Jinmeng, they wouldn’t trust him. Just like the Luo family never had.

Yun Shuang frowned slightly. She had sensed something was off about Chang Zijun from the beginning.

Yang Yuan had claimed he and Luo Xueqing were as close as siblings. Yet, yesterday at the Luo residence, his every word had tried to excuse Fan Youliang. Even when that clearly suspicious handkerchief was found in Fan Youliang’s room, he still insisted Fan Youliang was completely innocent. That kind of attitude made one doubt whether he truly wanted to find the missing Luo Xueqing. She had never expected that he was actually a spy for Jinmeng.

But Jiang Xiao was clearly used to dealing with this kind of treachery. Without emotion, he sheathed his blade and said coldly, “Take him back to the garrison.”

Before the words had fully left his mouth, a sudden drumbeat rang out from beyond the city walls—deep and rhythmic, though distant. The pattern was tight but stretched, breaking now and resuming later. Amid the blood and corpses scattered all around, the sound carried an indescribable sense of foreboding.