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Qingzhu was also terrified. In the dead of night, he frantically searched for a doctor, pounding on the clinic’s door like a madman. The doctor who answered was extremely annoyed, scolding them for disturbing his sleep and insisting on driving them away. It wasn’t until Bai Song, losing patience, unsheathed his sword that the doctor reluctantly agreed to examine Qi Ying.
Little did the doctor know, the man before him was once the legitimate son of Jiangzuo’s first family, a renowned powerbroker in turbulent times. Under normal circumstances, this doctor would never have had the chance to treat him.
It was from this rural doctor that Shen Xiling first learned just how serious Qi Ying’s condition was.
He had always been a man burdened with immense responsibilities—his family, his court, endless pressures all resting on his shoulders alone. Shen Xiling remembered from childhood how he rarely slept, spending nearly every night working late in the study, burning the midnight oil, rising early and retiring late, day after day, year after year.
How could he truly be fine?
He was human, flesh and blood, capable of pain, fatigue, and breaking under pressure. Now, he had collapsed, and all those years of accumulated exhaustion had transformed into ailments tormenting him. His body had grown weak to the extreme.
The doctor even remarked, “This gentleman has fallen ill from overwork, a condition too deep-rooted to reverse. From now on, he must avoid strain and worry; otherwise… it does not bode well for longevity.”
Does not bode well for longevity…
At that moment, Shen Xiling felt as though her entire world was collapsing.
It was as if all her support had been suddenly ripped away, leaving her with nothing. Her fear and anguish far surpassed what she had felt five years ago when she was sent away to marry, and it felt as though she had returned to that snowy day in Jiankang ten years ago—just as helpless, just as bleak.
But she knew she couldn’t be like she was ten years ago.
Back then, she was weak and powerless, able only to despair and wait for someone else to save her—but now, she had to rely on herself.
She had to save him.
Even if everyone around him sought to exploit and harm him.
Even if everyone wielded knives to carve at his flesh.
She would stand in front of him, just as he had protected her in the past, shielding him firmly and unwaveringly.
With such resolve anchoring her heart, Shen Xiling maintained remarkable calm. Beside her, Qingzhu was already crying uncontrollably, and even Bai Song, usually stoic, couldn’t hide his shock and panic. Yet Shen Xiling appeared composed and steady.
She thanked the doctor, requested a prescription, and fetched the medicine. Then she carried the unconscious Qi Ying back to the carriage and found an inn to stay at. Along the way, she knocked on the door of a bank and withdrew several banknotes to carry with her.
He needed rest, at the very least, to drink a bowl of medicine properly.
They finally found lodging in a dilapidated, unremarkable inn in the depths of Qingyuan City. Bai Song carried Qi Ying up to a second-floor room, where Shen Xiling stayed by his side to care for him, while Qingzhu went downstairs to prepare the medicine.
Not long after, Qingzhu rushed upstairs, his face pale with anxiety, gasping for breath. He explained that the doctor at the clinic must have been half-asleep and had forgotten to include one ingredient in the prescription. He now needed to return to the clinic to fetch the missing herb.
At that time, Bai Song was not in the inn—he had gone out to scout and guard against danger. Shen Xiling, needing to stay by Qi Ying’s side, couldn’t leave, so the task naturally fell to Qingzhu.
Ever since Shen Xiling had lashed out at Qingzhu once during Qi Ying’s withdrawal episode, their relationship had grown slightly awkward. Of course, Shen Xiling knew Qingzhu wouldn’t harbor resentment over such a minor quarrel—he was simply a bit stubborn and hadn’t fully returned to his usual self.
Now, with Qi Ying gravely ill, everyone was weighed down by sorrow. Qingzhu, in particular, had just cried his eyes out, and his eyes were still red and swollen. Wanting to comfort him, Shen Xiling suppressed her own grief and forced a smile, teasing him lightly: “Shall I go instead? Will you even find your way?”
Hearing this, Qingzhu immediately perked up, his face flushing red, seemingly indignant at being called out for his poor sense of direction. But he also understood Shen Xiling’s goodwill and gave her a somewhat awkward smile before stubbornly replying, “Of course I’ll go! I… I can definitely find my way! I’ll be back in the time it takes to burn one stick of incense!”
With those words, the bond they had shared since childhood became clearer: the lanterns of the Lantern Festival, the flowers of Fenghe Garden, the corridors of the main house—all those small moments when she had guided him came flooding back to both of them.
They exchanged a smile, and the lingering tension between them vanished completely.
For the first time, Qingzhu gave Shen Xiling a genuine smile, like a true old friend. He glanced at the unconscious Qi Ying lying on the bed, lowered his head, and said, “Then I’ll leave Master in your care. I’ll be back soon.”
Shen Xiling nodded at him, saying, “Don’t worry.”
True to his word, Qingzhu didn’t get lost that day and returned within the time it took to burn one stick of incense.
But when he returned, everything had changed.
Before Qingzhu came back, Qi Ying had briefly regained consciousness, though his body was still burning with fever and his mind remained hazy, caught between dream and reality.
But even that brief moment was enough to bring Shen Xiling immense relief. She sat by his bedside, holding his hand tightly, when she heard him mumbling something in a delirious voice.
Shen Xiling couldn’t make out his words and leaned closer to listen intently. She faintly caught some fragmented phrases:
“A brush… give me a brush…”
A brush?
What did he need a brush for?
Was he planning to write a letter? Or…
Before Shen Xiling could puzzle it out, Bai Song burst into the room.
He didn’t even bother knocking, pushing the door open forcefully and striding in. With great urgency, he shouted to Shen Xiling, “Pursuers are here! We need to leave, now!”
In the ten years they had known each other, Shen Xiling had never seen Bai Song look so frantic. The scar between his brows seemed even fiercer, transforming him from his usual calm demeanor into something more akin to a demon.
Without another word, Bai Song hoisted Qi Ying onto his back. Shen Xiling didn’t ask questions, only following him out of the narrow doorway without hesitation.
They were staying in a small room on the second floor. As soon as they stepped out into the corridor, they saw a large group of masked black-clad men storming into the inn, each wielding swords and exuding menace. The innkeeper, seeing this scene, quickly cowered under a table, while the intruders ignored everyone else, heading straight for the stairs.
Bai Song cursed under his breath, quickly scanning the area. Speaking rapidly, he said, “Escape through the back door! I’ll hold them off here!”
With that, he immediately handed Qi Ying to Shen Xiling and drew his sword to confront the group of assassins who had already reached the second floor!
Swords clashed, blood splattered, shadows danced.
The once-peaceful inn instantly turned into a bloody battlefield.
At that moment, Qi Ying was unconscious, and Shen Xiling, so slight and frail, struggled to carry such a tall man. Just as she was panicking, Qingzhu returned through the back door. Seeing the situation, he immediately understood the gravity of it and, together with Shen Xiling, helped lift Qi Ying and hurried toward the back exit.
By now, Bai Song was engaged with five or six assassins. Though highly skilled, even he was sustaining injuries. When Shen Xiling and Qingzhu glanced back, they saw a deep gash on his back, blood flowing freely from the wound.
Yet, he acted as if he felt no pain, single-handedly holding the assassins at bay, preventing them from approaching.
Without turning his head, Bai Song shouted to Shen Xiling and Qingzhu, “Go!”
Just one word, yet it carried so much resolve, so much loyalty.
Shen Xiling and Qingzhu both knew there was no time for hesitation. Clenching their teeth, they stopped looking back and focused all their strength on carrying Qi Ying toward the back door.
The path from the second floor down the stairs to the back door was only a few steps, but in that moment, it felt impossibly long. Every clash of swords, every thud of a body hitting the ground, every cry of pain behind them felt like slow torture. They dared not look back, nor could they afford to.
The inn was now in complete chaos. Guests awakened by the commotion opened their doors to see the bloody scene and were terrified out of their wits. Amid the confusion, they scattered in all directions. Finally, Shen Xiling and Qingzhu managed to reach the door with Qi Ying.
Qingzhu pushed the door open, and the warm summer night breeze rushed in. By now, tears were streaming down his face, yet he kept his eyes fixed forward, not daring to look back.
Facing away from Bai Song, he whispered almost inaudibly:
“…Come back alive.”
The inn’s backyard was already filled with noise.
Guests were fleeing in all directions, and the horses in the stables were spooked, pawing anxiously at the ground and neighing loudly, their cries particularly piercing in the night.
In such a desperate escape, there was no time to use a carriage. Shen Xiling and Qingzhu quickly led two horses out of the stable. Qingzhu mounted one with Qi Ying, while Shen Xiling took the other. By this time, sounds from the front courtyard indicated that a new wave of assassins had arrived and were heading toward the backyard.
Shen Xiling thought quickly. While Qingzhu helped Qi Ying onto the horse, she swiftly untied the ropes of the remaining horses in the backyard. Steeling herself, she grabbed an iron shovel from the corner of the stable and struck one of the horses, startling it into a frenzied gallop. The horse bolted out of the stable, knocking over bamboo poles and water buckets, causing the other horses to panic and scatter wildly, plunging the narrow yard into chaos.
In the blink of an eye, the pursuers from the front courtyard arrived but were thrown into disarray by the stampeding horses. By then, Qingzhu had finally mounted his horse. Seeing this, Shen Xiling immediately climbed onto hers. Both kicked their horses hard, and the steeds, spurred by pain, galloped toward the inn’s exit.
As a child, Shen Xiling had been terrified of riding. Whenever Qi Ying tried to teach her, she would do everything possible to avoid it. Even when he forced her onto the saddle, she would cling to him, refusing to let go unless he personally held the reins. For the past five years, she hadn’t ridden at all, nearly forgetting how.
Yet, in this life-or-death moment, her fear inexplicably vanished. Her horse ran at full speed, the wind roaring in her ears, but she felt no trace of fear. She only wished to go faster, faster still, to bring him to safety, to spare him from further danger.
However, the pursuers were only momentarily delayed. They quickly mounted their horses and gave chase. The sound of hoofbeats grew louder behind them, almost as if thunder were rumbling right beside her ears.
Struggling against the wind, Shen Xiling glanced back briefly. The fierce gusts nearly blinded her, but even in that fleeting moment, she saw the black-clad men drawing their bows. The arrowheads gleamed with a chilling light, poised to pierce the night and strike them.
Man is the butcher’s knife… I am the fish on the chopping block.
Qi Ying’s body was already teetering on the brink of collapse. How could he endure any more injuries? Without a second thought, Shen Xiling reached for the reins to slow her horse—she intended to shield Qi Ying, even if it meant taking an arrow meant for him.
Even just one. Even if it spared him the slightest bit of harm.
But before she could act, she heard Qingzhu shout sharply beside her, “Don’t stop!”
Startled, Shen Xiling immediately turned her head toward Qingzhu.
He was seated behind Qi Ying, his back facing the assassins’ arrows. If they released their bowstrings, he would surely be hit first, and certainly before Qi Ying.
He was using his own body as a shield for Qi Ying.
But how could Shen Xiling allow Qingzhu to face this alone? Setting aside their bond, she still had to position herself behind them. If Qingzhu were struck, no one would be left to control the horse, and Qi Ying would still be trapped.
As if reading her thoughts, Qingzhu furiously whipped the horse while shouting hoarsely, “I’m just a servant, but you’re the one meant to spend your life with Master! If you die, what will become of him?!”
His words were soaked in blood, each syllable clear and distinct, echoing through the night air.
Shen Xiling heard his roar but showed no intention of obeying.
It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the logic. She simply never believed her life was more precious than anyone else’s. Besides, Qingzhu had been by Qi Ying’s side far longer than she had. She knew that if Qingzhu died, Qi Ying would grieve just as deeply.
To take it further…
…this was her lover. She would protect him with her life, never entrusting that duty to anyone else.
For my entire life, I’ve been sheltered by him, ever since we first met ten years ago.
Now, let me protect him, just this once.
The night wind howled, the hoofbeats thundered, and the sound of bowstrings being drawn reached their ears. Arrows pierced the air, flying toward them. Qingzhu saw Shen Xiling give him a faint smile before her horse retreated. In the blink of an eye, she disappeared from his sight.
“No—!”
Arrows rained down!
Blades sliced through the air!
The horse screamed in agony!
Whose blood… was spilled all over the ground?
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