Chapter 11

Shortly after noon, sunlight drenched everything in pale brightness, but the Li residence remained solemn and silent.

Outside the East hall, Madam Lin stood with Fang Qiaoniang beneath the porch. Recalling Madam Qian’s stabbing and the fury it provoked in Li Wang, Fang Qiaoniang felt alternately chilled and overheated, her lips drained of all color.

Upon learning that Madam Qian had only suffered a shallow cut, Madam Lin’s demeanor grew calm and collected.

Back when Shangdang City fell, it was said the streets turned into a living hell. Though Madam Lin hadn’t witnessed it herself, when she came to seek refuge with Li Wang, she glimpsed remnants of the horror. The common folk cursed Xie Fei without exception.

Later, when the Li family reclaimed Shangdang County, the region took on the Li name. The people gained farmland, had enough to eat, and lived in peace. Over time, they stopped mentioning Xie Fei altogether.

Even when they heard that the new Young Madam of the Li household bore the Xie surname—as long as she wasn’t Xie Fei’s daughter—they had no desire to blame her. People live for survival; who has the energy to harbor eternal hate?

But there are always those trapped in the past. The old woman—having lost her husband, children, and grandchildren in that battle—went mad. Upon learning the Young Madam’s surname was Xie, her hatred found a new target.

After discovering the Xie family’s travel plans, the old woman infiltrated the women’s temple and lay in wait for her moment to strike, leading to today’s events.

Xie Yaoyao’s whereabouts were now unknown. The more Fang Qiaoniang thought about it, the more terrified she became. Shivering, she whispered, “Mother… we should admit our part…”

Madam Lin pinched her arm, silencing her.

The Xie girl’s fate was likely sealed. That mad old woman—obsessed with her lost family—would never expose the others. Besides, Madam Lin had only passed along one bit of information. If the Xie girl met a tragic end, she had fate and her surname to blame.
…

Inside, the physician finished bandaging Madam Qian’s wound. It was a slash to the palm, inflicted when she, in a moment of panic and desperation, tried to wrest the knife back as Yaoyao was being dragged away.

Thankfully, the injury wasn’t severe. Still, Li Wang sat stiff-faced. In all his years, he had never let Madam Qian suffer so much as a scratch.

Madam Qian still remembered how Nanny Zheng had shielded her during the attack and ended up wounded herself, so she asked Li Wang, “Is Nanny Zheng alright?”

Li Wang replied, “She’s fine.”

Madam Qian then asked, “And what about Xie girl?”

Li Wang let out a cold laugh. “Li Shan went to look for her. It’s his wife, so he’ll rescue her himself. If he can’t even manage that, then maybe we should just give up Bingzhou altogether and go back to the countryside to till the land!”

That was the real source of Li Wang’s fury—someone dared to attack women under the Li family’s jurisdiction. Aside from Luoyang, he couldn’t think of anyone bold enough to commit such a crime. Still, he ordered an investigation. Any delay would cost them the advantage, so they needed to capture the Daoist nun who abducted Yaoyao as quickly as possible.

After regaining consciousness, Yaoyao quietly began calculating her situation. The Daoist nun wasn’t in a hurry to travel and deliberately avoided main roads. Every so often, she’d get down from the cart to erase a segment of wheel tracks—even faking some with decoy wheel marks.

So when Yaoyao was back on the cart, she discreetly tossed small bundles of knotted straw onto the path to mark their trail.

Their route veered deeper and deeper into the mountains. The forest was too dense for a cart, so the nun decided to abandon it and take Yaoyao on foot.

Only then did Yaoyao feign a groggy awakening, blinking and asking in dazed confusion, “Where are we? Where are you taking me?”

The nun said, “Finally awake.”

She tried to gag Yaoyao with a cloth, but Yaoyao, eyes brimming with tears, whispered, “Kind auntie, I was raised to behave with propriety—I won’t shout or make a scene.”

Moved by her pitiful expression, the nun replied, “If you don’t scream, I won’t make it hard on you.”

Intending to carry her, the nun stepped forward. But Yaoyao said gently, “Would you allow me to walk on my own? My hands are tied—I couldn’t overpower you even if I tried.”

“And this mountain path is so rough. Carrying me would only weigh you down. I couldn’t bear to cause you any trouble.”

Her tone was soft and sincere, seemingly thoughtful of the nun’s comfort. The nun was quickly swayed.

Seeing how delicate and frail she appeared, the nun assumed she posed no threat. She warned sternly, “Don’t try anything clever—if you do, it takes just one hand to strangle you.”

Yaoyao shivered. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes red-rimmed, and a single tear slid down her cheek—a sight so heartbreaking that even the nun exclaimed in awe. How could anyone have the heart to put a price on such beauty?

Though she served as a Daoist priestess at the women’s sanctuary of Tianyang Temple, this nun also dabbled in illicit trades. Her network was tangled, connected with all kinds of shady characters. She knew exactly what that crazed old woman wanted and had even lured her to the women’s sanctuary.

Why? First, because Tianyang Temple monopolized the incense offerings and refused to share with the women’s hall. She harbored deep resentment and hoped that offending the Li family would bring Tianyang’s downfall. Second, she’d recently received a bounty—ten taels of silver for killing Miss Xie.

Just as she was fretting about finding Miss Xie, the opportunity had presented itself. She’d called it divine providence. Yet when the moment to kill Yaoyao came, the nun hesitated. In all her years in the flesh trade, having seen hundreds—if not thousands—of women, none came close to Miss Xie’s beauty.

Such a face could easily fetch ten taels of gold—perhaps even a hundred, if offered to someone high-ranking.

Compared to that, a measly ten taels of silver for murder seemed worthless. Since offending the Li family was inevitable, why not aim higher?

She planned to hide with Yaoyao in the mountains, wait until the Li family presumed her dead, and then sneak her out of Bingzhou.

Yaoyao, sensing this shift, knew she couldn’t just let herself be dragged farther into the hills.

After walking a while, she spotted a broken branch and stomped on it hard. “Ah…”

The nun turned around, and Yaoyao’s eyes shimmered with tears. “I—I twisted my ankle.”

“Miserable luck,” muttered the nun. A lame beauty wouldn’t sell for as much. She felt Yaoyao’s ankle through her shoe and sock—it didn’t seem serious—and urged her, “Keep moving. There’s medicine in the mountains.”

Yaoyao’s pace slowed even more. Just as the nun’s patience was running thin, Yaoyao blushed and said, “I need to relieve myself.”

The nun said, “Do it here.”

Though surrounded by trees, it was still very exposed. Yaoyao’s discomfort was genuine—she’d never relieved herself outdoors before.
She pleaded, “Kind auntie, could you find me a low bush? I’m unfamiliar with this area—if I run, I’d only end up eaten by wild animals. You’re all I can rely on.”

The nun grew suspicious, but Yaoyao’s tone was earnest, and she’d behaved so submissively up to now. As long as the rope stayed secure, what trouble could she really cause?

Reluctantly, she agreed.

A hundred paces away was a grassy slope. Yaoyao stepped onto it, but didn’t move further—instead, she gazed at the nun with watery eyes. The nun cursed and turned her head, saying, “Hurry up!”

Still holding the rope, the nun didn’t expect what came next. Yaoyao bit her lip, then suddenly hurled herself forward, tumbling down the slope.
She rolled with such force that the nun was nearly dragged down too. Instinctively, she let go and could only watch as Yaoyao tumbled away, screaming, “You trying to die?!”

“General, there’s straw over here!”

Du Ming picked up a small bundle of knotted straw from the ground and handed it to Li Shan. Without hesitation, Li Shan dismounted and looked toward the mountains. “Search the mountain.”

It wasn’t easy to ride horses in the hills. The dense group of soldiers streamed into the forest like ink spreading through water, fanning out in all directions. The unit Li Shan led was his own elite guard—whatever tricks the Daoist woman might know, they were even more skilled.

“Footprints here!”

One soldier pointed to the ground. Li Shan crouched down and measured with his hand—the shoe print was shorter than his palm span. It couldn’t belong to the burly Daoist woman. It was Xie Yaoyao’s.

The print was deep, the soil beneath still fresh. They couldn’t be far.

Li Shan clenched his jaw, wiped the footprint away, and then waved his hand. The troops quieted their movements and continued to search forward.

Suddenly, a soldier nearby shouted, “Who goes there? Stop!”

The Daoist nun, hiding in the shrubbery while searching for Yaoyao, had heard movement and tried to sneak away—but failed. She cursed under her breath in frustration. Since she’d been discovered, she snapped open the bagua-patterned umbrella she wore and shouted, “Don’t come any closer! One step more and I’ll kill the Young Madam!”

She spoke with full confidence, as though she truly had the General’s wife held hostage behind the umbrella.

From a distance, the soldiers couldn’t be sure. And since they needed her alive, they couldn’t risk blindly firing. Nothing could be seen behind the umbrella—if they killed her outright, they might lose any chance of saving the hostage.

The soldiers hesitated. The nun used the pause to back away slowly under the umbrella’s cover.

Li Shan arrived just in time to witness this scene. His gaze darkened. He raised his hand to the archer beside him, who quickly presented a bow.

This wasn’t his usual weapon, but Li Shan gently tested the drawstring twice.

Twang. Twang.

The sound was faint, but in the nun’s ears it was thunderous—like a death knell. Panic gripped her. She shrieked again, “Don’t move or I’ll—!”

Li Shan cut her off: “Bluffing.”

With a sharp hiss, an arrow whistled through the air, piercing the umbrella’s fabric and frame. The umbrella collapsed—and behind it, as suspected, there was only the nun.

She screamed in pain—the arrow had struck her palm with such force that it pinned her straight to the ground, the shaft buried into the dirt.

Li Shan lowered the bow. The soldiers rushed forward, binding her limbs tightly to prevent her from taking her own life.

Du Ming asked, “Where is the Young Madam?”

The nun snapped, “She rolled down the slope herself—dead from the fall!”

Li Shan’s gaze darkened. Du Ming struck her across the face without hesitation. Ignoring the nun from that point on, Li Shan strode toward the edge of the cliff.

Given how many markers Xie Yaoyao had left behind, she was likely hiding.

The soldiers spread out to search. Seeing there was nothing nearby that could offer proper concealment, Li Shan swiftly moved past the area, heading deeper into the overgrown grass. He stepped carefully over tufts of uneven terrain. After a while, he noticed a patch of grass bent as if something had pressed it down. He dropped to one knee and parted the thicket—only to have a foot clad in white silk socks kick straight at his chest. Li Shan reacted instantly, grabbing hold of the foot.

Yaoyao’s hands were bound, her upper body sprawled on the ground, her feet the only part free—and she kicked with all her strength.

Li Shan said calmly, “Stop kicking—it’s me.”

At the sound of this voice, both unfamiliar and familiar, Yaoyao froze. She looked up. Her clothes were covered in bits of grass, her hair in complete disarray. Her face was so pale it seemed almost translucent. A strand of hair clung to her cheek, making her look both heartbreakingly beautiful and fragile in her distress.

Li Shan narrowed his eyes slightly.

Her lashes trembled, blinking twice to hide the wetness in her gaze. Her voice came out soft as a whisper: “My foot…”

Only then did Li Shan realize—he was still gripping it.

Her shoe had vanished somewhere, and he could feel her toes curling subtly inside the silk sock, trying to withdraw. Her sole rested gently in his palm, not even spanning the full width of his hand.