His gaze wavered. How desperately he wanted to simply continue as things naturally would. Among the young nobles of Xianyang, countless men kept beautiful wives and favored concubines. Many already had bedchamber maids by the age of fourteen, and it was hardly uncommon for respectable young women to be forced into their inner courts. Once they grew tired of them, giving them away or exchanging them with others was considered little more than an amusing anecdote.
In such a chaotic age, women, especially beautiful women without powerful families to rely upon, had always found that the greater their beauty, the crueler their fate.
Only a layer of clothing still separated them. His rough fingertips brushed over the smooth, snowy skin at the small of her back through the fabric, drawing another fearful shiver from her. The man let out a reluctant sigh of longing before finally releasing her.
Before letting her go, however, he untied a white jade pendant carved from mutton-fat jade and hung it around her neck. “Remember what you said. Let this jade pendant serve as your token.”
Perhaps because his desire still had nowhere to go, his robes hung in disarray and his tone was especially harsh. “There’s only one bed in here. Get down to the lower cabin and sleep. Don’t keep wandering around in front of me.”
As though granted a royal pardon, Zhao Shu did not even stop to worry about the sash he had torn apart. Repeatedly saying, “Yes,” she reached blindly into a chest, grabbed two random garments and a hairpin without looking, stepped over Lady Zheng’s apricot-colored dress lying on the floor, and fled the room as though escaping for her life.
By the time she descended the wooden staircase, night had completely fallen. For some reason, not a single lantern had been lit on the deck.
Holding her breath, she hurriedly reapplied the disguise she had fortunately remembered to bring with her as she descended the steps. She quickly redid her disheveled hair. Reaching the final stair in the darkness, she accidentally stepped into empty space. Her ankle slipped into the gap between the wooden steps, and her upper body slammed hard onto the deck.
A searing pain shot through her left ankle. Twisting it slightly, she judged it to be nothing more than a scrape. Without even bothering to look, she silently gathered the clothes she had dropped and hurried toward the stern.
At some point, the boat had already left the lake and entered a much broader river.
The river water was dark as ink beneath the newly risen moon.
Although the servants sleeping in the lower cabin were all eunuchs, she still had no desire to let anyone see her in such a state.
By the faint moonlight, Zhao Shu barely managed to choose the shorter of the two robes she had grabbed at random. As she reached to remove the ruined dress she was wearing, her fingers brushed against the torn sash and the burning bruises at her lower back where he had held her. Her breathing faltered. After choking back her emotions again and again, the lingering fear finally overwhelmed her, and she quietly began to sob.
She became drunk quickly, but sobered just as fast. She had only drunk two cups of light wine. Now, with the river breeze clearing her mind completely, the humiliation she had just suffered returned vividly, accompanied by the infuriating expression on his face, as though he believed he had already shown her extraordinary patience and consideration.
Man is the knife; I am the fish upon the chopping block.
Having lived as Young Master Shu for so many years, she had rescued more than one girl in the pleasure quarters who had been abused by powerful men. There were many things she was not entirely ignorant of.
But hearing him strip away every pretense and lay the matter so plainly before her had struck her as devastatingly as the day something happened to Qi Ying.
Merchants bargained over prices. Rare goods, however, were never so easily valued.
She wiped away her tears and angrily threw the torn dress into the river.
Looking out over the pitch-black waters whose depths could not be seen, Zhao Shu reminded herself that she must not cry. Her eldest uncle had not yet arrived. Even if both Zhou and Zhao truly abandoned her, her mother had secretly left her a small mountain fief.
She was not… truly not… reduced to the point of waiting for someone to bid on her worth.
Besides, the Great Imperial Preceptor had already admitted long ago that the medicine slave created to prolong her father’s life required the antidote for the rest of his life. Until death came, there would never be true freedom.
She refused to believe that a man who had not even inherited the throne yet could somehow persuade the Great Imperial Preceptor to create a medicine that did not exist in this world.
Thinking this, she forced herself to calm down despite her trembling brows, staring quietly into the distance. Only after her emotions had settled slightly did she feel something soft and furry brushing against her foot. Looking down, she saw the large wild rabbit that had earlier been forgotten on the deck. She crouched down, gathered it into her lap, pursed her lips, and finally burst into tears.
“Waaah… Bunny… the man who saved you is a shameless scoundrel. Next time you see him, remember to bite him for me.”
Burying her face in the rabbit’s back, she comforted herself while wiping all her tears and snot into its thick, warm fur as though venting her frustration.
The great wild rabbit remained blissfully unaware. Delighted by her affection, it rubbed its split lips against her and repeatedly sniffed at her neck.
The girl and rabbit remained huddled together when suddenly something struck the top of her head.
The force was not strong. It landed precisely against the jade hairpin in her bun, just enough to ensure she noticed without actually hurting her.
The object bounced several times across the deck with soft tok-tok sounds before rolling to a stop. Still sniffling, Zhao Shu turned her tear-blurred eyes toward it. Not far from her feet lay a square wooden block.
It had been this object that had struck her. Even in the dim light, she could make out its finely carved patterns. It also appeared to have a long cloth tassel attached to one end.
She hiccupped from crying. In that instant, an inexplicable sense of understanding washed over her heart. Without even pausing to think, she deliberately tossed the rabbit toward the object. Then, as she hurried over under the pretense of catching it, she crouched down and quietly slipped the wooden block and its attached tassel into her robes.
Her heart pounded violently. In that split second, instead of examining the object immediately, she hugged the rabbit and casually leaned against the railing as though simply admiring the scenery.
The moment she looked down, a startled gasp nearly escaped her throat.
Clinging to the outside wall of the ship… was a man dressed entirely in black.
The river was swift and freezing, and the boat was moving quickly. The man’s lips had already turned an icy pale from soaking in the water, yet his tiger-like eyes remained as sharp and ruthless as ever.
“D… Da Yi, you…” Her lips silently formed half his name. Afraid someone aboard might notice, she immediately shut her mouth again and simply stared at him in alarm.
Da Yi was the captain of the palace guards in Handan, the man who normally served as Zhao Wangian’s personal bodyguard. A master warrior capable of drawing an eighty-shi bow, he had once been nothing more than a refugee from northern Zhao. The person who had recognized his talent, promoted him step by step, and ultimately entrusted him with such responsibility was none other than Zhao Wang’s adopted son, the man Zhao Shu had called elder brother for more than ten years: Zhao Ruhui.
The man in black signaled her with a calming gesture, telling her not to act rashly. Then, mouthing the words, “Lord Jinyang has already entered Qin,” he waved for her to step back and not interfere.
Zhao Shu had known Da Yi for many years. Although she trusted his abilities, she could not help worrying about the swift current of the river. There was nothing she could do, however, so she hugged the rabbit lantern, feigned that nothing had happened, and slowly walked toward the other side.
Finding no one around, she was just about to use the moonlight to open the square wax-sealed wooden block when her ears twitched. Faintly, she thought she heard movement coming from the river.
The sound came from the opposite direction of where Da Yi was hiding. Too many startling things had already happened today. A sense of foreboding stirred within her, and she hurried toward the other end, all the while peering into the dark, icy waters.
Between the two pleasure boats, she could vaguely make out something struggling in the water.
By the faint flickering reflection cast upon the river by the rabbit lantern, her eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness. As she strained to see more clearly, a human hand suddenly shot up through the splashing water!
Looking more closely…
It was a young girl who had fallen into the river!
At some point, both pleasure boats had become eerily deserted. There was not a single person to be found who could offer help.
Judging by her frantic thrashing, the girl was already drowning. Every second counted, and there was no time to call for help. Zhao Shu instantly cast aside every other thought. Her expression turned resolute as she tied her sash securely, tossed aside the rabbit lantern, climbed over the railing, and with a loud splash leaped into the freezing river.
The moment she surfaced, she involuntarily sucked in a sharp breath. The icy water was so cold that she nearly blacked out from the shock.
Hearing Da Yi swimming up behind her, she forced herself to suppress the grimace on her face and turned to signal him to stay back. Da Yi merely lifted his eyelids, glanced at her indifferently, then silently floated back against the side of the boat.
Zhao Shu was an excellent swimmer, though she had not been in the water for many years. After taking a moment to adjust to the frigid, rushing current, she drew in a deep breath, fixed her direction, plunged her head beneath the surface, and desperately swam toward the struggling figure.
After exerting every ounce of strength to lift the girl above the water, Zhao Shu was about to tow her back using a lifesaving back-carry when she was shocked to discover that both boats had drifted much farther away.
After a moment’s thought, she steadied herself and first stripped off the girl’s heavy, waterlogged outer palace robe.
As she worked, her strength steadily ebbed away. Looking back, Zhao Shu could clearly see that both boats were moving farther and farther away at a speed visible to the naked eye.
She cursed under her breath. A fierce struggle raged within her. The girl in her arms clearly could not swim at all, while on the other side was Da Yi, who almost certainly would not stand by and watch her die.
She could not allow them to expose themselves or risk their lives for her. She ought to let go and swim back alone.
She hesitated, trying twice to loosen her grip, but each time she failed. Finally, letting out a low cry toward the vast, shadowy expanse of the river, she kept one arm firmly across the girl’s neck, supporting her securely beneath the armpit against her own chest, and without another thought swam with the current toward the Imperial Grandson’s boat.
Even with the current helping her, as expected, there was no way her strokes could match the speed of the pleasure boat. Every time she thought she was about to catch up, the boat would pull just a little farther ahead.
Her strength was slipping away with every stroke, yet she stubbornly maintained her rigid hold on the girl, refusing to let go.
That scene also caught Ying Wuji’s eye.
The mute attendants had remained below deck under his orders. He himself had only happened to hear the strange, shrill cries of a wild rabbit, which prompted him to push open the window and look outside.
At first, the man’s gaze was cold and disdainful. He thought bitterly that this woman truly was his nemesis. Fortunately, today’s scheme had merely been an act of personal revenge and not something of greater importance.
He watched with detached amusement as she dragged the girl through the water after the boat. Seeing her fall farther and farther behind as exhaustion overtook her, he could not help sneering, mocking her for overestimating herself, almost as though he were watching a performance, waiting for Zhao Shu to abandon the girl.
But moments later, as the boat picked up speed and it became obvious that both of them would soon be swallowed by the river, she still refused to let go. His sneer froze. His fingers dug so hard into the window frame that they bit deep into the wood. At last, with an exasperated sigh, he swiftly leaped down, rapped twice on the hull below as a secret signal to those inside, and without another moment’s delay dove headfirst into the river like a fish.
After Ying Wuji carried the drowning girl onto the deck and signaled the mute attendants to save her, he turned and stood by the rail, coldly watching Zhao Shu struggle desperately behind them, inch by inch trying to keep up.
His clothes were soaked through, yet he stood there with an air of complete ease. He clearly had strength to spare, but simply watched her swim on her own and did not even order the boat to drop anchor or stop.
By the time Zhao Shu, having exhausted every last bit of strength she possessed, was finally pulled aboard by one of the mute attendants, she collapsed beside the deck, trembling violently as she coughed and retched up water and river weeds.
Only then did Ying Wuji stroll over. Kneeling on one knee before her, he looked down at her pitiful state with a smile that never reached his eyes.
Still coughing, Zhao Shu glared at him as though he were some kind of monster. She had barely begun to back away when the man let out a peculiar chuckle and said with courteous politeness, “I truly must thank you, Hostage Zhao. Otherwise, I might not have reached my younger sister in time to save her.”
***
Her soaking wet hair clung across half her face. Supporting herself on trembling arms, Zhao Shu turned her head, her round almond-shaped eyes filled with the expression of someone who had just seen a ghost.
The person she had nearly sacrificed her own life to save was Princess Weiyang!
The very same Princess Weiyang who was domineering and cruel, the one who, driven by nothing more than vague jealousy and resentment, had schemed to send Yingying to Changming Palace!
As Zhao Shu struggled to sit up against the side of the boat, Ying Wuji, having finished mocking her, calmly walked away. Standing not far off, water dripping from his body while the cold wind blew around him unnoticed, he silently watched the two mute attendants tending to Weiyang.
The moment the young princess coughed up a mouthful of water and regained consciousness, Ying Wuji immediately bent down to help her. On his handsome face, cold as carved ice, were unmistakable traces of both worry and anger. He scolded, “Weren’t you supposed to be in the palace studying court etiquette while preparing for your marriage? Why did you come all the way to Zhongnan? You nearly lost your life!”
Having only just regained consciousness, Weiyang looked utterly bewildered and could only let him reprimand her.
But when Zhao Shu witnessed this scene, recalling every fragmented detail she had observed throughout the night, everything suddenly clicked into place. Her mind became startlingly clear. She looked up in astonishment at the brother and sister before her, who appeared so close and affectionate, and an icy chill crept down her spine.
Just then, the man’s emerald eyes swept toward her. Feeling guilty, Zhao Shu quickly lowered her gaze and bowed her head. Under his probing stare, she unconsciously clenched her teeth in nervousness, while outwardly putting on the appearance of a frail young woman shivering from the cold.
“The river current was swift. Come to think of it… Huan’er, had Hostage Zhao not been the first to discover you, I might not have reached you in time either. When we see Mother, you must make sure she rewards Hostage Zhao for her merit.”
His words were sincere and helpless, every bit the image of a devoted elder brother deeply concerned for his younger sister. Yet in the look he directed at Zhao Shu was a trace of mockery and contempt that only she could perceive.
It was as though he were silently telling her: Duchess Yong has already abandoned you once, yet you still choose to place your hopes on them. How foolishly self-important.
Having accidentally saved this person and, in the process, seemingly uncovered yet another one of Ying Wuji’s secrets, Zhao Shu wanted nothing more than to stay out of the affair. Touching the sash still tied around her waist, she intended to return below deck to warm herself.
She had barely risen halfway when Princess Weiyang, Ying Huan, suddenly stumbled toward her while clutching onto one of the mute attendants.
Before anyone could react, the young princess burst into tears and threw her arms around Zhao Shu’s waist. Then, turning back toward Ying Wuji, she said something astonishing. “Brother, I don’t know who pushed me into the water! When I was struggling and about to drown, it was him who risked his life to pull me through those first moments. Brother, tell Mother for me, I won’t marry the Crown Prince of Yan! I’d rather die than marry him! If you insist, then send my corpse to Yanjing instead!”
The moment Ying Huan mentioned that someone had pushed her, Zhao Shu knew her own suspicions had been entirely correct. Her expression remained indifferent. She had no wish to become entangled in this matter and merely offered a few polite words before preparing to take her leave.
Having brushed against death itself, Ying Huan no longer looked at Zhao Shu with the same arrogance as before. Seeing Zhao Shu deliberately avoid involvement, she did not insist on keeping her.
Just then, the other boat, the one adorned with rabbit lanterns, drifted alongside. Having recovered some of her vitality, Ying Huan walked over to stand beside Ying Wuji. She watched as more than a dozen servants crossed over the plank one after another. Among them, only Jiaoyue climbed up from the river, her clothes still soaked through.
Immediately, Ying Huan pointed furiously at Jiaoyue, her eyes reddening with anger. “Brother, these servants have never been obedient. They must have resented me for a long time! Other than that girl Jiaoyue, there’s no need to investigate any further. I’ll simply sentence the rest of them to be drowned right here! As for the boatman and the cook, I don’t want to keep them either. They’re all detestable!”
Ying Huan refused to investigate because she herself had never been involved in political affairs. Yet the Princess’s residence employed many terrifying methods of extracting confessions. She feared that if an interrogation began, these people would accuse others indiscriminately in a desperate attempt to save themselves, ultimately damaging her own reputation instead.
So, except for Jiaoyue, everyone would be executed. Later, she could simply request a new batch of more obedient servants from the Inner Palace.
It was such an incredibly simple and brutally direct solution that even Ying Wuji was momentarily taken aback.
He knew Weiyang trusted him. He simply had never imagined she would trust him to such an extent.
Weiyang was now the only daughter of Duchess Yong. In the future, she was destined to inherit a fief in western Chu. Although the territory itself was not large, it was easy to defend and difficult to attack, making it a strategic stronghold between Qin and Chu.
Originally, he had gone to great lengths to persuade Mi Yan to marry Weiyang off to Yan. Since Yan lay far from Qin, he would be able to seize control of that territory in the process. Furthermore, because Mi Yan had neither sons nor daughters of her own, he could continue drawing upon the uncertain bond of their so-called “mother and son” relationship to borrow her influence for a while longer.
Instead, Weiyang stubbornly refused to marry. She had even foolishly run away from home and secretly followed him here, hoping he would persuade their mother to change her mind.
Faced with such a disobedient adopted younger sister, Ying Wuji had conceived the idea on the spur of the moment. He had simply decided to send her to the underworld instead.
Unfortunately, Zhao Shu had unexpectedly ruined his plan.
Ying Wuji was cautious to the extreme. Once an opportunity like this had passed, he had no objection to lying low and waiting patiently for another chance in the future.
In the brief instant he was considering his next move, the mute attendants had already boarded Weiyang’s pleasure boat, drawn their swords, and driven all the fleeing servants, boatmen, and cooks together.
Excluding the two death guards belonging to the Princess’s household, sixteen people remained. They knelt in unison before Ying Wuji and Weiyang. Before long, desperate cries filled the riverside, mournful and piercing like the wails of restless ghosts.
The rabbit lanterns still hung playfully along the sides of the boat, their warm light gently flickering. Yet these people would soon sink into the icy river and disappear into endless darkness.
Amid the endless weeping, Weiyang impatiently smoothed her wet, disheveled hair, urging everyone to finish the executions quickly while biting her lip in distress, wondering how she could persuade her mother to cancel the marriage. Beside her, illuminated by the scattered lantern light, Ying Wuji listened to the screams rising one after another. Unconsciously, he shed the gentle and refined facade he usually wore, standing there with nothing but cold indifference upon his face.
The mute attendants worked in perfect coordination. One swung the sword while the other confirmed each death before casting the bodies into the river. In mere moments, six corpses had already been thrown into the water.
When they came to the seventh victim, however, it was an elderly cook accompanied by a young child.
“Princess, spare us!” the old woman cried. She was already over sixty years old, yet even with a sword pressed to her throat, she managed to force out a coherent plea through her trembling. “This old woman was never one of Your Highness’s household servants. I only came aboard because my cooking was good enough to earn a living, and I brought my grandson with me. If Your Highness suspects me, then kill me if you must… but my grandson is only nine years old. He would never have tried to harm you…”
Before the sword could fall, Zhao Shu could no longer bear to listen. She had already reached the cabin, yet she immediately turned back and rushed out again. Without hesitation, she kicked the mute attendant’s sword from his hand. After weighing her words one last time, she was just about to ask Weiyang to stop. Before she could even open her mouth, four short screams rang out simultaneously. A spray of scalding blood burst into the air. A sharp pain flashed through Zhao Shu’s eyes. When she blinked them open again, all she could see was crimson.
Half of her face was drenched in blood. Even her right eye had been splattered red. She parted her lips slightly and stood frozen before slowly turning to look at Ying Wuji. His sword had been impossibly fast. Had there not still been a single bead of blood clinging to its tip, she would scarcely have believed it was truly he who had struck just now.
Ying Wuji did not even spare her a glance. He merely signaled silently to the two mute attendants with his eyes. Before Zhao Shu could utter even a single word of protest, the remaining people had all become corpses as well.
Only the nine-year-old boy was left alive. He lay on the deck, sobbing as he shook the body of his grandmother, who had already breathed her last.
“I had originally intended to spare both you and your grandmother,” Ying Wuji said with a feigned sigh. As he stepped through the blood covering the deck, he drew a half-length dagger from his waist and placed it into the boy’s hand. Gently patting the child on the head, he coaxed him softly, “Good boy, go on. What’s the use of crying? You should avenge your grandmother instead.”
Still too stunned to react, Zhao Shu stood frozen, watching as the little boy truly accepted the dagger from his hand.
His grandmother had clearly raised him well. Though only nine years old, he was sturdy and well-built, hardly any smaller than boys of twelve or thirteen.
She had not yet wiped the blood from her right eye. From where she stood, everything at the bow of the boat appeared as a chaotic blur, half crimson, half swallowed by darkness.
The instant the boy charged toward her with the dagger, Zhao Shu immediately sensed something was wrong. This was nothing like the movements of an ordinary nine-year-old. He had undoubtedly undergone harsh training.
Knowing there was no time to explain herself, she focused her attention, preparing to defend herself. But then the boy suddenly lashed out with a flying kick that sent her stumbling aside. Raising the dagger high, he rushed straight toward Weiyang, shouting, “You vicious woman! Have you forgotten all those you’ve harmed before? Give me back the lives of my father, my brothers, and my elder sister!”
…
The moment the boy’s head fell to the deck, his bloodshot eyes still wide with unwillingness, Zhao Shu looked toward the calm, indifferent man standing nearby, and a surge of fury rose within her.
The deaths of sixteen innocent people struck her with painful clarity, forcing her to think through everything that had happened.
Only after this grim performance came to its end did she finally understand. That boy had likely been trained for years. His entire life had existed for a single purpose, to die alongside Weiyang tonight.
Yet by sheer accident she had saved Weiyang’s life, and it was Weiyang herself who had blindly ordered everyone else executed. In other words, almost all of these people had died because of her.
Her heart trembled violently. Looking up, her blood-reddened vision met the man’s cold, shadowed gaze, as though he had already seen through everything she had just realized.
Unable to care about anything else, nausea overwhelmed her. She shoved away the handkerchief Weiyang offered her, reached up and tore the jade token from around her neck with all her strength, then strode the last two steps toward Ying Wuji and hurled the keepsake he had given her heavily onto the blood-soaked deck.
The jade pendant shattered into several pieces. Ying Wuji narrowed his eyes and let out a mocking laugh as he watched her lower her head and disappear into the cabin below.
The deck was left in utter disarray. Some of the mute attendants busied themselves cleaning up the aftermath, while others prepared hot ginger water to serve their masters. After everything that had happened, the pleasure boat abandoned its leisurely return and headed directly back toward Xianyang.
…
The main cabin on the second deck had been occupied by Weiyang. She sat absentmindedly stroking the broken jade pendant that Jiaoyue had retrieved from the deck and carefully washed clean, a rare frown settling upon her face.
“Ah Yue, come take a look. Do you think this jade pendant really used to belong to Ying Wuyou?”
Jiaoyue examined it for a while before nodding in agreement.
The moment she heard the answer, the little princess seemed to wilt. She dramatically collapsed face-first onto the table as though she had died on the spot.
Ordinarily, Jiaoyue would have gone over to comfort her and ask what was wrong. But tonight, she herself had kicked her mistress into the river. No matter how composed she appeared outwardly, she still felt uneasy.
“We won’t reach the city until dawn. Once we’re back, the Madam will certainly summon you. This servant will prepare your bed. Your Highness should retire early.”
After inspecting the jade pendant, Jiaoyue tried to distract her thoughts.
But Weiyang merely watched her quietly as she busied herself around the cabin. She watched for such a long time that Jiaoyue began to feel uncomfortable. Then the little princess suddenly blurted out, “Ah Yue, from now on… I won’t hit you anymore.”
“Huh?” Jiaoyue turned around in astonishment before immediately dropping to her knees again. “It’s all because this servant’s swimming skills were poor. Your Highness had every right to punish me.”
Instead of leaving her kneeling, Ying Huan took her by the arm and helped her to her feet. Wearing an expression Jiaoyue had never seen before, she hesitated before saying, “Ah Yue… why do I feel like Brother…”
Her reluctance to finish the sentence caused cold sweat to bead on Jiaoyue’s back.
“…actually likes men too!” The instant those words left her mouth, Jiaoyue quietly relaxed. Meanwhile, Ying Huan continued rambling, “And another thing… don’t you think Hostage Zhao seems to really dislike me? Although… I think he dislikes Brother even more. Ah Yue, don’t you think so too? Never mind. I’ve decided. I’m going to become good friends with that Zhao hostage.”
Seeing Jiaoyue staring blankly at her, Ying Huan smiled brightly. She suddenly pulled Jiaoyue close and whispered into her ear.
“When I visited the western market last time, I heard a merchant from Dashi mention something called the Love Gu. They say it’s a pair of yin and yang gu. They’re made by soaking all kinds of aphrodisiac herbs together for a hundred days. If two people each consume one, then even mortal enemies with the deepest hatred will become inseparable lovers, clinging to each other day and night. Ah, ptooey! As if I have any deep hatred with him…”
“Princess, rumors like that are hardly reliable.”
“I don’t care! Ah Yue, before the Yan envoys arrive, you must find this Love Gu for me. I refuse to believe there’s anything in this world that money can’t buy!”
