Not far away, a dozen warhorses galloped from the end of the official road, kicking up a cloud of swirling dust.
The cavalrywomen on the horses were all armored, with iron helmets, iron armor, neck guards, and shoulder guards.
The armor plates gleamed with a dull metallic sheen, clinking softly with the rhythm of the horses’ movement.
They held long spears, tips pointing forward, lined up in a row. The red tassels on the spears fluttered in the wind, crimson as blood.
Seeing this, the black-clad people immediately lost their composure.
Although they outnumbered the newcomers, these dozen or so were armored cavalry—long spears, iron armor, warhorses—this was the configuration of a regular army, weapons meant for breaking enemy formations on the battlefield.
Fighting such a unit head-on on open ground? Were they courting death?
Moreover, their leader already had both arms severed. Blood was still gushing from the stumps, and she could barely stand steady.
Qin Junyue quickly helped Tang Xuan beside her to her feet, brushing the dust off her clothes.
Tang Xuan’s clothes were covered in mud and bloodstains, and the wound on her back was still oozing blood.
“Prince Xin, please rise quickly. You must not do this.”
“I was entrusted by Young Master Song and Minister Qi to come and fetch you.”
Supported by Qin Junyue, Tang Xuan’s legs were still weak. She leaned against Qin Junyue like a small tree bent by the wind.
She looked up at the cavalry. These were the imperial court’s troops, here to rescue her.
The black-clad woman with severed arms stood in the distance. Blood still flowed from her stumps, her lips trembled, and her teeth were clenched so hard they made a grinding sound.
Her gaze fell on Qin Junyue, then on the cavalry, cursing her bad luck internally.
Where did this woman come from? Why hadn’t she heard any news about her? Were those people in the capital all useless?
“Retreat!” She shot Qin Junyue a fierce glare and roared.
Hearing this, the black-clad people turned and fled, dropping their swords and knives all over the ground.
Qin Junyue’s face turned cold, her phoenix eyes narrowing as she waved her hand.
“Kill them! Leave none alive.”
The dozen cavalrywomen simultaneously tightened their reins and charged forward.
The sound of hooves was like thunder, the dust flying up like smoke.
They gave chase, first bending their bows and shooting arrows. Where bowstrings twanged, arrows pierced the air.
As they closed in, the cavalrywomen hung their long spears on their saddles, drew the long sabers at their waists, and slashed left and right, each cut drawing blood.
One black-clad person raised a sword to block but was cleaved in half, sword and all.
Another turned to run but was overtaken by a warhorse. A saber swipe took off half her head. The corpse ran forward two more steps before collapsing face-first.
Most of the black-clad people were either trampled by the warhorses or lost their heads.
The official road was littered with corpses, everywhere was blood, and everywhere were discarded weapons and masks.
Tang Xuan had never witnessed such a scene. Still shaken, she leaned against Qin Junyue, her body trembling.
Watching the imperial cavalry gallop freely in the twilight, she gradually regained her senses.
Everything felt like a dream.
“Thank you,” Tang Xuan’s voice was hoarse.
“Truly, thank you.”
She grasped Qin Junyue’s arm.
“You are my savior, Tang Xuan’s savior.”
“I will definitely put in a good word for you, have my elder sister, the Emperor, grant you…”
The words from that letter instantly flashed through Qin Junyue’s mind.
‘If you truly save Prince Xin’s life this time, remember the way of subject and sovereign. Do not overstep your bounds.’
Saving the Emperor’s life might not necessarily lead to a good outcome.
There have been many meritorious officials. How many met a good end?
Qin Junyue hastily dropped to one knee, bowing her head, her voice filled with trepidation.
“Prince Xin is a prince of our Great Qian Dynasty. This is the duty of a subject, a matter within my responsibility. How could I possibly accept thanks?”
Tang Xuan was taken aback.
She looked at Qin Junyue kneeling on the ground, at this woman who just moments ago was brimming with killing intent, now appearing meek and submissive, and murmured,
“Yes, yes…”
By then, the battle was over.
The official road was strewn with corpses, both black-clad people and retainers.
The black-clad woman with severed arms lay in the grass by the roadside, an arrow piercing her chest, her pupils already unfocused.
After resisting a few times, she had been stabbed through the chest by a spear and fell from her horse.
Qin Junyue walked over, looked down at that face, stared at it for a good while, confirming she was dead, then turned away.
‘Good thing she’s dead. That night, that black-clad person saw me outside the wedding chamber. She had to die.’
“Check them over a few more times,” she said to the cavalrywoman beside her.
She couldn’t let a single person survive to return to the capital and report.
“You said Minister Qi and… Young Master Song arranged for you to rescue me?” Tang Xuan’s voice came from behind, filled with confusion.
She knew Minister Qi—the Minister of War, a second-grade senior official, a heavyweight in the court.
But who was Young Master Song? She searched her mind over and over but couldn’t find that name.
She had read a few books with the pen name “Young Master Song,” but she thought they were written by some reclusive scholar.
Hearing the three words “Young Master Song,” a strange sense of pride welled up in Qin Junyue’s heart.
That pride rose from her chest, surged up her throat, reached the corners of her mouth, turning into a smile she couldn’t suppress.
Although Song Ning wasn’t her husband, a trace of her essence blood flowed within him.
It was hers.
It was her blood flowing in his veins, her aura taking root deep in his bones and blood, the secret between her and him that would never fade.
A smile on her lips, Qin Junyue led a nearby horse over.
“Please, Prince Xin, return to the capital with me,” she helped Tang Xuan onto the horse. “I will explain slowly on the way.”
Tang Xuan nodded, sitting on the horse, taking a deep breath. She never thought she would return from the brink of death.
“Hyah!”
The horses’ hooves kicked up dust, and the group disappeared into the twilight.
Crows flew up from the branches, circled a few times against the gray sky, then settled back down.
……
Afternoon.
Song Ning woke himself up.
He sat up abruptly, covered in sweat, his chest heaving as he gasped for air, waking up feeling hot and agitated.
He had dreamed of that night again, the wedding night. He touched his trousers.
Song Ning sighed, pulled the quilt over himself, leaned against the headboard, lifted his face, and looked toward the ceiling.
Although he couldn’t see anything, he still looked.
Men in this world recovered quite quickly, far beyond his imagination.
In life, who doesn’t have desires?
Before, he could still endure it.
Endure, and it would pass. After all, he couldn’t see.
He’d wake up in the morning, change out of the soiled clothes, ball them up, and have Xia Ling take them for washing.
Days passed like this, one after another, peacefully enough.
But now? Qi Chuyao ignored him. They lived separately from the second day of their marriage, hardly even showing their faces.
What was he? Living in widowhood?
Thinking of Qi Chuyao made Song Ning grind his teeth in anger.
That mouth wasn’t like that on the wedding night. Turning hostile the next day and acting like a stranger? She really knew how to switch faces, didn’t she?
Saying things like “You live your life, I’ll live mine. We won’t disturb each other.”
You should have said so earlier! If you wanted to live separately, you shouldn’t have come that night at all.
You came, the night passed, loyalty was expressed to you, and now you say we live separately?
Song Ning laughed again in frustration.
Forget it, why bother with her?
These days had passed, and he didn’t know how Qin Junyue was doing on her side.
She went to handle the matter, it should be fine.
Song Ning pricked up his ears to listen. The courtyard was very quiet, no sound of Xia Ling chattering, no sound of Xia Shuang practicing swordsmanship.
It must be afternoon. Xia Ling was probably embroidering in the next room, Xia Shuang might be spacing out in some corner.
At this time, no one would come in.
Song Ning threw off the quilt, groped his way to sit up, bent over, and his fingers touched the small chest by the bed.
It was his clothes chest, made of red sandalwood, not large.
He felt the edge of the lid, opened it, reached his fingers inside, and touched the neatly folded clothes.
He balled up the clothes, stuffed them in to hide the evidence, then groped for a clean pair of trousers.
“Brother.”
A soft, gentle call came from outside the courtyard.
Song Ning’s hand trembled. Before he could even put on the trousers, he hurriedly shrank back under the covers, his heart pounding like a drum.
‘No way, why is Song Youyi here now? What a coincidence?’
Footsteps drew nearer.
“Brother, are you awake?” The voice was already at the door.
“Awa… awake,” Song Ning replied.
The door was pushed open.
Song Youyi stood in the doorway, dressed in a white gown, plain as a white flower.
Her long hair was loosely tied up, a small white flower pinned at her temple, making her face appear even paler, even more beautiful.
Her lips lacked color, the corners of her eyes slightly drooping, carrying a sickly weariness, but her eyes were very bright.
In her arms, she held a bundle, wrapped in moon-white cloth, bulging.
“Brother, your clothes must be worn out, right?” Song Youyi’s voice was soft, carrying a smile. “I brought you new clothes.”
She gently sniffed the air, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly.
“Brother,” she called, her voice sickly sweet.
“Give me your old clothes.”
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.