Chapter Thirteen: A Visitor in the Dead of Night

Even the leader, though usually bold and skilled, turned pale at this moment. He was, after all, a mere mortal—how could he not fear death?

“Speak. Who are you? Why did you kidnap the Princess?” The voice behind him rang out cold and merciless.

With a sigh of relief, Yang Lian, covered in sweat and blood, could no longer keep himself upright. He collapsed headlong to the ground. Princess Huairou was startled by the sight, crawled over, and anxiously lifted Yang Lian’s head. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?” Her face had lost all color.

On the other side, the leader suddenly sneered. With a sharp motion, he bit through a poison capsule hidden in his mouth, though he betrayed nothing. He might not want to die, but as an assassin, he had long been prepared for it. When he didn’t answer, the questioner pressed his blade half an inch deeper, drawing blood. “Will you speak or not?”

“It’s pointless now. He’s already resolved to die,” Yang Lian said with difficulty.

Though his voice was weak and faint, it brought joy to Princess Huairou—Yang Lian was unharmed, and that was all that mattered.

While the newcomer was still surprised, the leader gave a short, grim laugh and fell face-first to the ground. Looking closely, his face had turned blue, and white froth trickled from the corners of his mouth—he was beyond saving.

The man sighed and stepped forward. “Are you Princess Huairou?”

The princess nodded, then suddenly remembered something and said, “Quick, take him back at once—save him at all costs. He is my lifesaver.”

“At your command, Your Highness. I, Chen Keyan, will obey.” With that, he hurried out of the thicket. Moments later, he returned with several men, who hastily assembled simple stretchers to carry Princess Huairou and Yang Lian. After traveling less than two miles, a carriage appeared, and the princess was escorted inside to rest.

Now that the danger had passed, Princess Huairou’s usual willfulness surfaced. She ordered Chen Keyan to bring Yang Lian into the carriage.

Chen Keyan hesitated greatly. On one hand, he knew her reputation for being headstrong—disobeying her as a mere local constable would spell trouble. On the other, her station was so lofty that to allow a strange man inside, even one who had just saved her life, would be a breach of propriety and could tarnish her reputation.

“Chen Keyan, if you refuse me again, I’ll have my father strip you of your office the moment we return!” The princess snapped.

Chen Keyan was tormented with worry, but after much consideration, he personally carried Yang Lian inside, remaining at the door to keep watch, anxious that something might go wrong. And as fate would have it, the princess, unusually attentive to her benefactor, gazed at Yang Lian in a daze, gently stroking his face from time to time with her delicate hand.

Chen Keyan was alarmed at every turn. To distract her, he coughed and asked, “Your Highness, who is this man?”

“I only know his name is Yang Lian. As for his origins, I’m not sure,” she replied, lost in thought. Then, as if recalling something, she added, “But whoever he is, he’s a good man.” If Yang Lian were to hear such praise from the princess in the future, one can only imagine his expression.

Observing her demeanor, Chen Keyan felt a pang of unease. He had been young once, and he recognized the look of awakening affection on her face. How fortunate Yang Lian must be—to win the favor of the King of Qi’s most beloved daughter, the emperor’s favorite princess! Such luck must be the result of good deeds accumulated over several lifetimes.

Chen Keyan decided he must curry favor with Yang Lian; perhaps his own promotion was near at hand.

After more than half an hour, the carriage reached the Joyful Inn, which was still under investigation and sealed off. Chen Keyan, with his guards, hurried Yang Lian back to the best room and summoned the finest physician in Henglin Town. Princess Huairou refused to leave his side. Yet after so much turmoil, exhaustion overtook her. She stared blankly at Yang Lian, who lay on the bed, the doctor busy at his side, and soon dozed off, her head lolling.

Chen Keyan quickly called for Wang Qu, the innkeeper, to fetch the maids and the princess’s own attendants to take her away to rest. Yet she was a light sleeper—at the slightest touch, she awoke and immediately asked, “How is Brother Yang?” Even her address had changed.

The doctor approached. “Your Highness needn’t worry. He merely fainted from exhaustion.”

“But he’s covered in blood,” the princess said.

“Those are minor wounds. With a few days’ rest, he’ll be perfectly fine,” the physician assured her.

Finally, her mind was at ease. Her maid approached and whispered, “Since Master Yang is out of danger, would Your Highness not prefer to rest as well?”

The princess nodded. She had yet to change out of her torn and soiled gown, which, though dirty, exposed a pair of alluring legs—quite improper for a princess. She was also drenched in sweat and carried an unpleasant odor, making a bath most necessary.

Supported by her maids, she left the room. The portly innkeeper, Wang Qu, hurried over, eager to please. “Your Highness, the hot water is ready.”

“Hmph.” The princess, recalling her impression of the fat innkeeper, merely snorted disdainfully and swept away like a proud peacock.

Yang Lian remained unconscious. Nearby, clad in armor, Chen Keyan fixed his gaze on him, racking his memory. This man bore the same name as the former crown prince of the previous dynasty—could they be one and the same? After a long, intent stare, Chen Keyan concluded it was pure coincidence. With so many people in the world, what was so strange about a shared name? Besides, aside from that scar, Yang Lian looked nothing like the old crown prince.

Moreover, if he truly were the former prince, he would never have risked rescuing the princess today. Her status was unique; as a hero, Yang Lian would surely be summoned by the King of Qi, which would be tantamount to delivering himself into the tiger’s jaws. Furthermore, Chen Keyan suspected Princess Huairou had feelings for Yang Lian. Given her impulsive nature, who knew what might happen? He was resolved—his own path to advancement as a collateral member of the Chen family lay here.

Yang Lian had no inkling of the cascade of consequences his rescue would unleash, or that he had won the allegiance of Henglin Town’s constable. Had he known, he would likely have burst out laughing.

He slept deeply and sweetly, waking to find it was already late at night. Struggling to open his eyes, he saw the window was ajar, a cool breeze carrying silver moonlight into the room. He propped himself up, feeling as if his whole body were falling apart, muscles aching terribly.

His stomach rumbled with hunger. Just then, a shadow flickered past the window, and in an instant, a masked figure slipped into the room, moving swiftly. The intruder chopped the maid watching over Yang Lian on the neck, knocking her out, then approached the bed.

“You’ve come,” Yang Lian said calmly.

The masked figure paused, clearly surprised by his words. After a brief silence, the voice that answered was as melodious as an oriole’s, and unmistakably female—much to Yang Lian’s surprise. “Aren’t you afraid?”

“Why should I be?” Yang Lian countered.

“It’s the dead of night, a stranger breaks in—are you not the least bit concerned?” she asked.

“Concerned?” Yang Lian smiled, slowly sitting up. “With the boundless autumn moon and a gentle breeze, shouldn’t it be you, as a woman, who has more to fear?”

The masked woman’s eyes curved into crescents, her long lashes fluttering like butterflies. Was this really the same timid man?

Last night, she had thought Yang Lian had fled, only to learn he had gone to rescue Princess Huairou. Not only had he succeeded, but judging by the princess’s anxious concern, he had exceeded expectations.

“Are you the one who booked my room?” Yang Lian asked again.

A flicker of surprise flashed in her eyes. She had hidden herself well, yet Yang Lian had deduced the truth. But she was frank by nature; since he had guessed, she saw no need to deny it and laughed. “Yes, it was me.”

“Do you know me, miss?” he pressed.

She frowned. “You ask too many questions.”

“A kindness, no matter how small, deserves gratitude,” Yang Lian said. “You booked me a room, so I owe you a debt. As I have neither money nor means, you may take me as your reward.”

“Are you courting death?” The masked woman’s brows arched as she drew her blade. “You dare speak so shamelessly to me—are you not afraid of death?”

“To die beneath the peonies is to die as a romantic,” Yang Lian replied coolly, glancing at her forehead. Though her lower face was hidden, what the moon revealed was exquisite—fine skin, elegant brows, eyes as dark as autumn water. Even unseen, he was certain she was no less beautiful than Princess Huairou.

“Scoundrel! Where are you looking?” she snapped, angered by his audacity and the way his gaze lingered. She pressed her sword to his throat. “I’ll kill you!”

“Put it away—you won’t, and you can’t,” Yang Lian said, his eyes narrowing, utterly unafraid.

“If you don’t believe me, try me!” she retorted, voice edged with fury.

“Don’t be rash—steel has no eyes. Stay calm,” Yang Lian murmured gently in reassurance.

He was confident she would not harm him. Had she wanted to kill him, she would have done so upon entering, not bothered to knock out the guards. Why add unnecessary trouble?

She was skilled, but perhaps inexperienced—or perhaps he was too important to her mission. Either way, Yang Lian was certain she would not kill him.

If she was the one who booked the room, then the dart must have been hers as well. He had been startled then, and he meant to reclaim his composure.

Besides, Yang Lian detested being manipulated. Why should anyone else dictate his fate—even if their intentions were kind?

The masked woman was driven to distraction by Yang Lian’s insolence. She thrust her sword forward, hissing, “If that’s so, I’ll kill you!”

Yang Lian simply chuckled. He knew she was only blustering; had she truly meant to strike, she would have done so already. Such words were only spoken by those who would not act.

“Are you really so heartless, little lady?” Yang Lian assumed a look of utter desolation, as if he might weep at any moment.