#177: Resolute (2)

Yet she seemed oblivious, as if unaware of the effect she was having on this man. She continued calmly, asking, “How did the fire start today? Has the palace uncovered any findings?”

Gu Juhan’s back muscles tensed slightly at her question, but he quickly regained his composure. His tone remained calm and smooth as he replied, “Nothing unusual. Spring days are dry and prone to fires. It seems a monk in the rear hall dozed off during noon prayers, failing to watch the candle flame, which unfortunately ignited a banner, causing this calamity.”

His response was impeccable—anyone hearing it would find no fault. Shen Xiling said nothing further, pausing before asking, “What about the officials from Liang? Are they all safe?”

Finally, she had asked this.

Gu Juhan had known all along what she truly wanted to ask—it was remarkable she had waited until now.

He sighed inwardly, delivering the prepared answer, “Rest assured, he has returned to the guest residence, unharmed. Ironically, when you rushed into the fire to find him, he had just left through a side door, narrowly missing you. Otherwise, you might have seen him again.”

His words were well-crafted, especially with the added touch of regret, making them sound genuine. After speaking, he awaited Shen Xiling’s reaction, expecting relief or some other response. Unexpectedly, she only chuckled softly.

This elicited an ominous premonition in Gu Juhan.

She continued tending to his wound, gentle and meticulous. He heard her say indifferently, “Your wound is a burn, not bleeding much. I wonder whose blood was on the floor of the lodging?”

Gu Juhan’s hand clenched tightly on his knee.

Her voice continued, “Did you kill him?”

Silence enveloped the room.

No one spoke; they both remained silent. Yet Shen Xiling maintained her methodical approach, slowly and carefully bandaging his wound with clean white gauze. Meanwhile, Gu Juhan’s mind was in turmoil, leaving him momentarily speechless.

After a long silence, he finally said, “Bloodstains? I didn’t see any—perhaps you were mistaken amidst the chaos.”

Mistaken?

How could she be mistaken about anything related to that person?

Shen Xiling smiled, continuing to wrap the gauze gently, round and round, like tree rings.

“Wenruo,” her tone was very gentle, tinged with a hint of sigh, “I thought you two were friends.”

These words were plain, yet they left a deep mark in Gu Juhan’s heart.

Wenruo.

She called him by his courtesy name again. Ever since she awoke from her dream, she had addressed him as “General,” maintaining a distant demeanor. But now, she used his style name, sounding as close as ever.

Friends?

Who was she referring to? Him and Qi Jingchen?

Gu Juhan gave a bitter smile.

How could she have such a notion? Was it because five years ago he had once helped Qi Jingchen?

He hadn’t helped him. Five years ago was merely a transaction—they both took what they needed. If possible, he would prefer Qi Jingchen dead. Without him, Liang would be defenseless, and within ten years, Wei could achieve unification.

They were certainly not friends. Apart from that brief cooperation five years ago, they had fought countless battles over these years, each trying to kill the other, leaving deep wounds—like the one on his left shoulder, nearly fatal, inflicted by General Pei Jian under Qi Jingchen.

With national interests at stake, how could they be friends?

Moreover, there was her between them.

She was indeed a contradictory person. Despite her devout belief in Buddhism, which should have made her enlightened, she remained obsessively attached to Qi Jingchen.

During lunch in the lodge, he had thought she decided to let him go. Who knew this fire would reveal her true feelings—she couldn’t possibly let go, even willing to die for him without hesitation or looking back.

He understood the depth of their bond—he had saved her life several times and personally raised her. Such a connection happens only once in a lifetime and can’t be replaced. He bore no resentment and found their attachment reasonable.

But... he didn’t expect her to be so ruthless towards him.

Just because of a pool of blood on the floor—without knowing whose blood it was or why it was there—she had already condemned him, convinced he harmed Qi Jingchen. Despite their five years together, she immediately placed him on the opposing side regarding that person.

At this moment, Gu Juhan felt somewhat powerless. His gaze cooled as he sat facing away from her, asking, “Are you certain I harmed him?”

Shen Xiling didn’t reply immediately, seemingly focused on bandaging. She was almost done, carefully tying a knot with the white gauze, neat and pretty.

She examined the knot briefly, seemingly satisfied, then moved her hands from Gu Juhan’s back, starting to tidy up scattered items on the table.

As she cleaned, her tone remained indifferent, “Previously, Jingqi mentioned to me that you’ve been coming home late recently. I didn’t think much of it then, but now it seems you were preparing for today’s Buddha Bathing Festival fire. That’s why His Majesty and the Empress Dowager appeared so late—to avoid suspicion, perhaps?”

Her tone grew colder, “The fire was merely a diversion. In reality, the palace sent someone to assassinate him, leaving those bloodstains. Afraid of detection, you arranged the fire to burn all evidence cleanly. If the south asks, you can simply say he perished in the fire, saving explanations.”

Gu Juhan remained silent.

Shen Xiling didn’t mind his silence, methodically folding the used cloth, continuing, “It’s understandable His Majesty wants him dead. Without him, Wei gains immense benefits. Five years ago, he visited Shangjing, yet His Majesty didn’t act. Why now?”

She seemed to ponder, then answered herself, “Not killing him then was likely due to fear of the southern forces. His Majesty knows killing him alone is easy, but the south would surely retaliate, leading to war. Now, His Majesty dares to kill him—is it because of some agreement with the south?”

Such earth-shattering matters, yet she spoke calmly. After finishing, she nodded, muttering, “It must be so. The Liang people want him dead; His Majesty merely took advantage of the situation.”

Her words were clear and logical, her emotions steady. Though discussing Qi Yin’s life and death, she showed no signs of emotional disturbance.

On the contrary, she was calmer than ever.

Gu Juhan, however, grew increasingly uneasy. He realized he’d rather see her angry or sad—even crying would make her feel familiar, unlike now, as if they were strangers.

Gu Juhan silently put his clothes back on, standing up and turning to face her. After a moment’s deliberation, he asked, “What do you intend to do?”

“What do you intend to do?”

This question revealed much, at least confirming her speculations weren’t baseless—Qi Yin indeed faced mortal danger, orchestrated by the Wei Emperor, involving the southern forces.

This was the worst scenario, yet Shen Xiling’s expression remained calm—terrifyingly so.

Standing before Gu Juhan, she appeared fragile and thin, her pale face accentuated by lack of makeup, yet her presence was remarkable, showing no weakness compared to him.

“Nothing special,” she even smiled at him, “If he dies, I’ll join him; if he lives, I’ll save him.”

Her tone was eerily calm, yet her words were heavy, deeply shaking Gu Juhan’s heart.

Death?

He didn’t doubt that if Qi Jingchen died, she wouldn’t survive alone. Five years ago, when she first married into his household, she kept scissors under her pillow. He knew her thoughts then—Qi Jingchen faced his most difficult time in Jiangzuo. She feared for his safety and prepared herself: upon hearing of his death, she would immediately end her life with those scissors.

That was who she was—resolutely loving Qi Jingchen.

But she said she would save him?

How could she save him?

This was Wei. Gu Juhan questioned whether even he could change the Emperor’s mind, let alone with the southern forces involved—it was too complex.

Qi Jingchen carried too many burdens. Who could save him? Who would even try?

He was destined to die.

Gu Juhan took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and when he opened them, his expression was more serious.

“Save him?” he asked, looking at Shen Xiling, “How will you save him?”

Upon finishing, he noticed Shen Xiling exhale in relief.

A layer of fine sweat covered her forehead, her complexion paler, yet her expression relaxed significantly.

Gu Juhan realized his mistake—his question inadvertently told Shen Xiling that Qi Yin was still alive.

He shouldn’t have let anyone know this.

Gu Juhan frowned.

Shen Xiling’s earlier question indeed tested him, and his response finally allowed her to breathe easier: Qi Yin, though indeed in peril, was still alive. Perhaps injured or secretly confined, but definitely alive.

That was enough.

As long as he lived, there was still hope.

Shen Xiling’s resolve strengthened.

Unfortunately, her body was too weak. After such emotional fluctuations, despite her resilient spirit, her body couldn’t hold on. Her legs gave way, and she collapsed straight to the ground.

Gu Juhan was startled, quickly catching her and helping her sit down.

Seeing her deathly pale face and increasing sweat, he became extremely worried. Hurriedly giving her some instructions, he rose to call for a doctor, saying, “Don’t think about anything else for now. I’ll fetch a doctor. Whatever happens can wait...”

Before he finished, she grabbed his sleeve.

She was so frail, her strength pitifully small, yet when she lightly held his sleeve, Gu Juhan felt unable to break free.

She looked at him with her finely-drawn eyes, asking, “...Where is he?”

Realizing her foolishness after asking, she gave a self-deprecating smile. Still, having asked, she waited for his answer, hoping he might soften and tell her his whereabouts.

Gu Juhan averted his eyes, remaining silent.

Understanding his unspoken refusal, she wasn’t disheartened. Releasing his sleeve, she gave a faint smile, saying, “I’m troubling you. No matter, I’ll find another way.”

Gu Juhan’s expression changed instantly upon hearing this, alertness rising in his heart. He asked, “What are you planning?”

Shen Xiling seemed tired, leaning against Gu Juhan’s large chair, her breathing labored.

She didn’t respond for a long time, making Gu Juhan more anxious. He crouched before her, meeting her gaze, repeating the same question.

Shen Xiling glanced at him, thought for a moment, then slowly retrieved two thin sheets of paper from her sleeve—the ones she had taken from her dressing table earlier—and handed them to Gu Juhan.

Her expression was calm as she said, “General, please take a look.”