Song Ning’s expression turned extremely grim.
“Brother, what’s wrong?”
Song Youyi asked cautiously, her voice trembling slightly.
She stood beside Song Ning, her gaze fixed on his face, an indescribable unease welling up in her heart.
She could now piece together what was happening: their mother and Auntie Qi were fighting someone—fighting for their lives in the dead of night.
Song Ning stood up, his fingers probing the air until they found Xia Shuang’s arm, then patted it gently.
“There are too many of them. We can’t hold them off completely; we can only split up to buy time.”
“But what if they send a group here? We’ll be done for. Let’s retreat and hide somewhere.”
With so many enemies and no one to protect them, it was too dangerous here. They needed to hide again.
He reached out, and Xia Shuang quickly moved to support his arm.
Song Ning tilted his head, “looking” in Xia Shuang’s direction.
“We need a faster way to get to safety.”
We’re racing against time. Are you planning to walk me there slowly?
Xia Shuang froze, blinked, bit her red lips, and nodded firmly with her usual expressionless face.
She released Song Ning’s arm, bent down, slid one arm under his armpit and the other under his knees, and lifted him up in one motion.
Song Ning swayed slightly in her arms, instinctively reaching out to wrap his arms around her neck.
Xia Shuang’s warmth seeped through the thin fabric, soft and carrying a faint fragrance.
“You…”
Song Youyi pointed at Xia Shuang, her mouth agape, a shocked expression spreading across her face.
Xia Shuang said nothing. She bent down, crouched in front of Song Youyi, and turned her back to her, signaling her to climb on.
Song Youyi hesitated for a moment, glanced at Song Ning, then gritted her teeth and climbed onto her back.
Xia Shuang stood up, holding Song Ning’s thighs with one hand and securing Song Youyi with the other, stabilizing both of them on her body. She took a deep breath and kicked off the wall.
The tips of her toes pressed against the wall, and her body sprang into the air.
Her skirt fluttered noisily in the night wind, her long hair streaming behind her.
Like a streak of azure lightning, she shot from the ground to the top of the wall.
Song Ning felt a sudden weightlessness, his body light as if about to fly. His fingers instinctively tightened, clutching Xia Shuang’s neck.
His face pressed against the hollow of her shoulder; he could feel the pulse at her neck and the softness of her skin, a faint, pleasant scent.
Song Youyi clung to Xia Shuang’s back, eyes closed, biting her lower lip, afraid to look down. She could feel the wind roaring past her ears.
Xia Shuang ran soundlessly across the rooftops, her eyes scanning the darkness for a hiding spot.
Finally, she found a place in a dark corner.
“Young Master, it’s safe here,” she whispered, her voice rough.
Song Ning reached out, felt the air, found Xia Shuang’s shoulder, and patted it gently.
“I trust you.”
Song Youyi lay flat on the eaves, gasping for breath. Her face was even paler than before, and her lips had lost all color.
And sure enough, before long, a group of people arrived.
Footsteps came from the alley entrance, chaotic and disorderly. Torchlight flickered in the darkness.
They stopped in front of the Song Mansion, talking all at once.
“Lord Wei said to catch that blind young master. Whoever catches him will be heavily rewarded!”
“We’re not just catching him—we’re going to loot this place too. The Song Mansion is a wealthy household. Even grabbing a few things will make us rich.”
“Let’s go, go in and see what’s valuable. Take it all!”
This was a good assignment—facing a blind man with no weapons was far better than fighting on the front lines.
Torchlight flickered across the gate of the Song Mansion.
Song Youyi covered her mouth, her eyes wide. She leaned close to Song Ning’s ear.
“Brother, people really are here.”
Song Ning tilted his head, listening, his brows slightly furrowed.
“Just as I thought. We’ll stay hidden.”
Xia Shuang glanced at the group. Her eyes swept across their faces one by one. She counted—about ten people.
Scattered soldiers carrying swords, no armor, no formation.
Her hand rested on the long sword at her waist. Her thumb pushed the guard open slightly, revealing a sliver of cold, gleaming blade. Her cool, pretty face took on a serious expression.
“Young Master, they are very weak.”
“I can handle them.”
Song Ning was surprised. He turned sideways, “looking” in her direction, skeptical.
“Really? Have you Entered the Ranks?”
To be honest, although Xia Shuang had been practicing swordsmanship every day—starting before dawn, rain or shine, without fail—Song Ning had never really paid attention to her skill.
He couldn’t see the flash of her blade, the movements of her body, the leaves she sliced through, or the dust kicked up by her sword wind.
He only knew that she practiced in the courtyard every day, and he could hear the sound of the sword cutting the air.
But to him, that sound was just background noise—like the birds, the cicadas, the rustling of leaves in the wind—part of the everyday life in the courtyard.
Song Ning simply assumed she couldn’t be that strong.
Xia Shuang shook her head, her voice dull.
“No.”
“Then you’re still a mortal. Don’t do anything reckless. Stay hidden,” Song Ning said softly.
“What are you doing? How can a mortal fight multiple opponents? That’s no different from Qi Chuyao. We can’t take risks.”
Xia Shuang’s lips drooped. Her usually cool, pretty face showed a sulky expression, like a child who’d been wrongly accused, underestimated.
She pouted, and for once, her words came out smoothly.
“I’m very strong.”
The group was already kicking at the gate of the Song Mansion, cursing loudly.
Song Youyi whispered, “Brother, they’re about to enter the mansion.”
“Let them loot—that’s not the problem. But there are servants’ children still inside, and…”
There weren’t just the three of them in the Song Mansion.
There were the children of the domestic servants, a few family members who hadn’t been able to evacuate, and other defenseless old people, women, and children.
If those bandits found them, she didn’t dare imagine what would happen.
Song Ning frowned, tilted his head, “looked” in Xia Shuang’s direction, and spoke lowly.
“Are you sure you can do it? Don’t be reckless.”
Hearing this, Xia Shuang knew Song Ning was allowing her to act.
Her eyes lit up. She nodded firmly, then leaped up.
The tips of her toes pushed off, and her body soared into the air. Her silhouette carved a graceful arc in the moonlight.
Her azure robes flapped noisily in the night wind, her long hair streaming behind her. Her fingers gripped the hilt, and her thumb pushed open the guard.
Cling!
The long sword slid from its sheath, cold and bright as snow.
Song Ning couldn’t see this, but Song Youyi could.
Xia Shuang’s figure froze in the moonlight, her waist twisted, her arm extended, the tip of the sword pointing straight ahead. Her cool, pretty face showed no expression.
At that moment, she looked like a sword immortal descending to the mortal world.
Song Youyi covered her mouth, her eyes wide, the azure silhouette and the cold gleaming sword reflected in her pupils.
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