Chapter 23

Long Street at Night

In the blink of an eye, Xie Sui’an flipped herself onto the roof. Once she gathered her bearings, she realized that familiar voice she’d heard seemed to belong to Nan Yi. 

Xie Sui’an quickly deduced that something inside had changed. She didn’t have time to dwell on how Nan Yi managed to sneak into the banquet or what had transpired within. For Nan Yi to choose such a risky way to “flush out the snake,” there must be significant danger. Without hesitation, Xie Sui’an immediately left. 

Inside the room, Qusha was furious, realizing their plans had gone awry. He angrily shouted at Nan Yi, “Where did you come from, you wretch? Spouting nonsense like that!” 

“I… I just thought I saw a shadow…” 

Nan Yi continued to act, her voice trembling, soft and pitiful, like a thin thread about to snap. Every word and breath she uttered brushed against Xie Que Shan’s neck like warm wisps of air. 

Xie Que Shan suddenly felt irritated. There was no need for her to pick up everything so quickly—not even the seductive airs of a courtesan, which she seemed to have learned to about seventy to eighty percent accuracy. 

His face darkened, and with no regard for decorum, he shoved her off him. 

“Troublesome fool—scram.” 

Nan Yi was shoved to the ground, though not harshly enough to hurt her. She was puzzled. Was he really letting her go so easily? But since he said so, there was no reason to stay. She quickly got up and was about to leave when she caught sight of something unexpected—near Xie Zhu, the female performer by his side had a peculiar expression. She seemed to be slipping something into Xie Zhu’s hand. No one else noticed, as everyone’s attention was still on Nan Yi. 

That performer—it was a Candlelight Division spy! 

Nan Yi instantly realized what was about to happen. She wanted to flee the scene quickly, but just as she was about to step out of the room, a rush of fresh air greeted her nose as she opened the door—and then a startled cry sounded from behind her. 

At some point, the ropes binding Xie Zhu’s hands had been loosened. Taking advantage of the distraction, he suddenly leaped out the window. 

Nan Yi turned back, equally shocked. 

She had thought Xie Sui’an had retreated, but the spy inside wasn’t ready to give up and had attempted to continue the rescue. It turned out the performer had only freed Xie Zhu’s hands, allowing him to stage this dramatic act of defiance. 

By leaping out of the Flower Dawn Pavilion window in front of everyone, Xie Zhu was sending a clear message to the entire city of Li Du Fu: he had not defected to the Qi. This public declaration made the Qi’s attempts to fabricate his betrayal collapse entirely. 

The room erupted into chaos. The performers screamed and wailed, their cries echoing loudly. The spy deliberately led the commotion as the crowd surged outward. Nan Yi took the opportunity to slip out of the room. 

Qusha, however, paid no attention to the panicked women. He leaned out the window, his face a storm of fury. 

At that height, Xie Zhu wouldn’t die from the fall. And with Qi soldiers stationed right outside the pavilion, escape was impossible. Still, the nearby streets were packed with spectators, and the growing murmurs of the crowd made it clear that the public had witnessed the entire scene. 

“Useless fools! Get rid of those nosy commoners! Clear this street immediately!” 

The Qi soldiers in the room rushed downstairs to carry out the orders. 

Xie Que Shan remained seated, unmoving, as if carved from stone. He cast Qusha a sideways glance and remarked coolly, “Qusha, you’ve botched this.” 

His tone carried an air of mocking indifference. 

Qusha clenched his jaw, his anger barely contained. “Damn it! I underestimated Xie Zhu—he does have some backbone!” 

“No matter. The one playing the ‘good cop’ will arrive shortly.” 

“What do you mean by that, Xie Que Shan?!” Qusha snapped, his fury erupting into a shout. 

Xie Que Shan didn’t answer. He calmly drained the wine from his cup and stood, preparing to leave. But as soon as he opened the door, the matron of the Flower Dawn Pavilion appeared, flustered and pale-faced. 

“My lord, my lord… I just discovered a performer unconscious in the woodshed! Her clothes have been swapped…” 

The news was like pouring oil on a fire. Qusha was already enraged. He kicked over the chair in front of him, the lacquered wood splintering under the force of his blow. Gritting his teeth, he snarled, “That wench hasn’t escaped the pavilion yet!” 

“Seal off the Flower Dawn Pavilion. Search for her,” Xie Que Shan ordered calmly. 

Nan Yi had thought she was safe as long as she left the room. However, just as she reached the rear courtyard, the Qi soldiers locked down the entire pavilion. 

Escaping over the walls was no longer an option. If she couldn’t make it back to Snow-Watching Hill, and instead fell into Qusha’s hands… The mere thought made Nan Yi’s blood run cold. With Qusha’s vendetta against her, the consequences would be unimaginable. 

So that was why Xie Que Shan had toyed with her so mercilessly—he had calculated that this would be a one-way trip for her. 

The sound of Qi soldiers marching in formation echoed through the corridors of the pavilion. Desperation took hold as Nan Yi’s eyes darted around the courtyard. She noticed a parked carriage nearby. 

… 

The carriage belonged to Xie Que Shan. 

It wasn’t his responsibility to lead the search, so he planned to return to Snow-Watching Hill. When he lifted the felt curtain of the carriage, the glow of the hanging lanterns spilled inside, illuminating a crouched figure—a young woman. 

She had removed her tasseled veil, and her face, caked in heavy makeup, bore a kind of garish boldness. 

He Ping was shocked and was about to speak, but Xie Que Shan stopped him. 

Nan Yi stared back at Xie Que Shan, her gaze filled with resolve. She took a deep breath, then abruptly dropped to her knees with a thud. 

“My life belongs to you, my lord. I’m willing to serve you. Whatever you command me to do, I will do.” 

Nan Yi was the very picture of an opportunistic fence-sitter. 

When Xie Que Shan had asked her to spy on Xie Sui’an before, she had refused. But now, with her life on the line, she had no choice but to feign loyalty and sell herself out. If she had to gamble, she might as well bet on him. 

Xie Que Shan said nothing. He stepped into the carriage, using the footstool, and entered. 

The curtain fell, leaving only the two of them in the cramped space. 

Xie Que Shan sat down, and Nan Yi shuffled closer on her knees, her wide eyes fixed on him with exaggerated docility. 

“As sincere as that?” Xie Que Shan raised a brow. 

“Absolutely! If not, may I be struck by lightning!” Nan Yi swore immediately. After all, she had made so many vows of this sort that if they truly held weight, she could power a god’s tribulation herself. Another oath of “sincerity” was hardly worth fretting over. 

“You must understand, once you make a promise to me, it cannot be mere words.” 

Nan Yi was speechless. She knew lightning wouldn’t truly strike her, so she dared to make rash vows. But she also understood that if Xie Que Shan ever found out she betrayed him, he would absolutely kill her without hesitation. 

Outside, the footsteps of the Qi soldiers grew closer and closer. 

Xie Que Shan leaned back leisurely, closing his eyes to rest while tapping his fingers lightly on his knee in a slow, deliberate rhythm. 

“If you can’t figure it out, then go outside and think it over.” 

Nan Yi finally understood what Xie Que Shan meant when he said, “Running away doesn’t always work.” 

Now she was like a bird with clipped wings—escape was impossible. She could only cling tightly to Xie Que Shan’s tiny boat in the stormy sea. If she let go, she’d be swallowed by the raging waves. 

But it wasn’t up to her. If she wanted to board his boat, she needed his permission. Her life or death hinged entirely on Xie Que Shan’s whim. 

Was there no way for her to gain even a sliver of control? 

In that instant, a bold idea sprang to Nan Yi’s mind. 

“If you force me out, I’ll go straight to Hu Sha and tell him it was you who sent me to Hua Zhao Pavilion. That you didn’t want your precious sister to be in danger, but couldn’t show up yourself.” Her voice quickened with urgency as she continued, finally tearing down the pretense between them. “I’ll tell him it was you who released me in Tiger Kneeling Mountain, and you who instructed me to disrupt Xie Heng’s funeral. Which side you’re really on will depend on how Hu Sha sees it. Either I’m your person, alive or dead, or we both go down together.” 

Xie Que Shan opened his eyes, locking his gaze on Nan Yi. 

After saying all that, Nan Yi felt parched and her entire body trembled—not from cold, but from a heat rising within, as though she’d poured every ounce of courage into her reckless words. 

She wasn’t completely sure of her gamble. 

For instance, Xie Que Shan might simply draw his sword, kill her on the spot, and toss her from the carriage before she could utter another word. 

But she had to take the risk, banking on the faint possibility that she still held some value as a “toy” in his arena. 

After a long silence, Xie Que Shan finally spoke, his voice steady: “He Ping, back to Wang Xue Wu.” 

The carriage began to move. The light filtering through the thin curtains dimmed as they left Hua Zhao Pavilion and entered the streets. The wheels rolled over the stone-paved roads, causing the cabin to gently sway with the motion. 

Nan Yi knew she had narrowly escaped death. She let out a long breath, her body finally relaxing. 

“Why did you come to Hua Zhao Pavilion tonight?” 

Not daring to push her luck, Nan Yi answered honestly, “Sixth Lady said she was going to rescue Third Uncle. But last night, I overheard your conversation outside your room about setting a trap. I was worried she’d be in danger, so I wanted to warn her.” 

“How did you know Little Six was going to Hua Zhao Pavilion?” 

“A servant saw her.” 

“Does anyone else know about this?” 

Nan Yi froze. She hadn’t thought about that. If the servant had loose lips, then many people in Wang Xue Wu could know. She had already suspected there was a Qi spy in Wang Xue Wu, which would explain how Xie Sui An’s movements were leaked, leading to the ambush at Hua Zhao Pavilion. 

“I... don’t know.” 

“Keep an eye on Little Six. Report her movements to me.” This time, it wasn’t a suggestion—it was an order. 

“You won’t hurt Sixth Lady, will you?” 

“She’s my own sister.” 

Hearing this, Nan Yi felt a spark of joy. So he wasn’t completely devoid of humanity! Thinking back, she realized his tacit approval might have allowed her to warn Xie Sui An earlier. 

“But if she gets too entangled with the Candle Bureau and stands in my way, I won’t have a choice.” 

His voice was chillingly cold, like a bucket of icy water pouring over her, extinguishing any illusions she had. 

Nan Yi fell silent. After a long pause, something suddenly occurred to her. She asked, “So that day in the snow, did I choose the character ‘life’?” 

“No.” 

“Then what did the character mean?” 

“‘Death.’ The death of kings and lords.” 

“I chose wrong, yet you still let me go. So, among those characters, was ‘life’ even an option?” 

“No.” 

“You’re terrifying...” Nan Yi muttered. “I never should have stolen your pouch.” 

“Remember this: In Wang Xue Wu, you are the Young Madam, the head of the rear courtyard. Every word and action will be scrutinized. Get rid of your petty thieving habits.” 

“I understand,” Nan Yi replied sincerely. She realized that when he wasn’t planning to kill her, most of what he said was actually for her own good. 

After that, he said nothing more. In the cramped, silent cabin, they could hear each other’s breathing clearly. 

Normally, Nan Yi didn’t dare look directly at Xie Que Shan, but now, for some reason, she found herself staring at him. She watched the shifting light and shadow on his face as the carriage moved. 

The carriage rolled forward, and the night-covered long street stretched out ahead like a surging river, the crowded houses on either side resembling inky mountains. They sat together on this small, fragile boat, both draped in the moon’s cold light. 

They were honest yet guarded, sharing the boat but not leaning on each other, flowing with the current toward an unknown destination. 

Then, the boat came to a halt. 

Nan Yi lurched forward from the sudden stop, nearly hitting the cabin wall. Before she could collide, however, a broad hand caught her. 

He had reached out to shield her, their eyes briefly meeting before he withdrew his hand, his expression reverting to indifference as if nothing had happened. 

“Young Master, we’ve arrived at Wang Xue Wu,” He Ping called from outside. 

He lifted the curtain, revealing the carriage now parked in Wang Xue Wu’s rear courtyard. 

Nan Yi’s lips moved, almost forming words of thanks, but she swallowed them back. She prepared to stand, only to feel Xie Que Shan press her back down. Confused, she looked up, only for a thick cloak to be tossed over her head. 

Without a word, Xie Que Shan left the carriage, his strides long and purposeful. 

Nan Yi glanced at the cloak, then at her garish outfit. She immediately understood. Dressed like this, walking through Wang Xue Wu would surely draw sneers and criticism from the upright noblewomen. She quickly wrapped herself in the cloak. 

By the time she stepped down from the carriage, Xie Que Shan and He Ping were already walking down the covered corridor toward Jing Feng Residence. 

Watching Xie Que Shan’s figure disappear around the corner, an indescribable feeling rippled through Nan Yi’s heart.

The carriage had stopped, and they had returned to their respective places, but the river still surged forward. It was as if she were still on that solitary boat.