HMHSE - 19

In the Great Prison of Youzhou, Hu Shiyi was indeed dutifully standing guard outside the underground dungeon’s gate.

The dungeon was deep and dark, like a hidden cage. There truly wasn’t a soul around—normally, even the jailers avoided such places.

As he stood guard, if not for the occasional terrifying sounds emanating from within, he might have thought he was the only person left in the prison.

Another spine-chilling noise echoed through the air. Hu Shiyi rubbed his face. Even a tall, burly man like him, hardened by military life, found it unnerving. What kind of monsters were locked up in there?

Just as his thoughts wandered, footsteps echoed down the corridor—one deliberate step after another, the familiar sound of boots striking the ground.

Shan Zong appeared from the shadows.

Hu Shiyi felt as though he had seen a long-lost relative and hurried over: “Boss, why are you here in person?”

He secretly hoped this meant he wouldn’t have to stand guard anymore.

Shan Zong glanced around: “I have business.”

Hu Shiyi immediately deflated, realizing he wasn’t being let off the hook.

Shan Zong had come because of the conversation at the governor’s residence.

Though he joked with Changsun Shen Rong earlier, her need to select prisoners for mining was now unavoidable. Having promised Zhao Jinlian, he needed to find suitable candidates for her.

He asked: “Are there still any strong men left in the prison?”

Hu Shiyi thought for a moment: “Judging by the situation, there aren’t any. If there were, they’ve probably been scared into submission.”

“Hmm,” Shan Zong muttered, running his hand along the hilt of his saber.

According to Changsun Shen Rong’s requirements, prisoners from the Great Prison were the most suitable. But now, considering the current state of the prison, he could only think of one place that might hold usable inmates.

He raised his gaze toward the towering black door of the underground dungeon.

Hu Shiyi still looked dejected when suddenly Shan Zong said: “Go call someone to open the door.”

He froze, unsure what he meant: “Which door?”

Shan Zong replied: “The underground dungeon.”

Hu Shiyi was shocked, glancing between him and the massive door, unable to believe his ears.

“Go,” Shan Zong commanded.

Only then did Hu Shiyi scurry out of the corridor.

A group of jailers soon followed behind him, one carrying an iron box in both hands.

Hu Shiyi opened the box, revealing a key nearly a foot long, made of an unknown material.

It took effort to pull it out with both hands.

“Boss, are you really opening it?” Hu Shiyi still sounded uncertain.

Since his arrival at the military compound, the underground dungeon’s door had never been opened.

Meals were delivered wrapped in lotus leaves, water sealed in clay jars, and shoved through small openings barely a palm wide. The prisoners fought among themselves for these supplies; no one knew what horrors lay inside.

Shan Zong’s voice was low: “Stop asking so many questions. Open it.”

Reluctantly, Hu Shiyi carried the key forward, and the jailers assisted.

As the creaking sound of the lock mechanism reverberated, Shan Zong stepped up to the door, drawing his saber: “Once I’m inside, close the door immediately.”

Hu Shiyi stared at him in disbelief: “You’re going in alone, Boss?”

In the dim light, all he could see was the shadow cast across Shan Zong’s brow: “Yes.”

The massive door groaned open slightly, dust raining down like a storm. The jailers instinctively stepped back, drawing their blades defensively.

Shan Zong tucked his robe into his waistband and slipped inside.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Only then did Hu Shiyi realize he hadn’t asked what the boss intended to do inside.

…

At the official residence, Shen Rong stood under the eaves, gazing up at the sky, wondering how much longer it would be until winter arrived.

Guangyuan passed by and paused to greet her: “Noblewoman, you visited the governor’s residence earlier but returned shortly after.”

Shen Rong glanced back at him, recalling the awkwardness of the governor and his wife. They had stayed longer than expected.

Before leaving, she and that man had exchanged sharp words once more.

On the surface, she simply said: “Nothing much, just checking on the governor’s condition.”

Guangyuan nodded and discreetly observed her before excusing himself.

He remembered seeing her leave with the master and confirmed they had gone together to the governor’s residence. But judging by her demeanor now, it seemed they hadn’t spent much time together afterward.

He couldn’t help but feel regretful—they had even shared a meal together.

Shen Rong gazed at the sky for a while longer, calculating when her brother would return to the capital. Before he brought reinforcements to take over, they absolutely had to excavate the difficult section of the mine.

She wondered if Shan Zong would be able to find suitable people for her.

Frowning momentarily, she called for Donglai: “Inform the military compound—I’m heading into the mountains to inspect.”

Upon hearing this, Zirui immediately began preparations.

As usual, Shen Rong changed into her Hu-style attire, donned her veil hat, and stepped out of the residence. Just as she mounted her horse, Donglai returned and whispered something to her.

Shen Rong glanced outward—the person accompanying Donglai was Zhang Wei.

This time, it wasn’t that Shan Zong refused to come. Donglai explained that he hadn’t seen him at all. No one at the military compound had seen him either—he wasn’t there today.

Shen Rong recalled that she hadn’t seen him since leaving the governor’s residence. Though he had canceled the patrol, surely he wasn’t deliberately avoiding her.

She climbed onto her horse, pondered briefly, and set off.

The journey from the city was uneventful, just like any other day, but today the soldiers accompanying her seemed a bit strange.

Through the veil of her hat, Shen Rong glanced left and right, sensing eyes on her.

As they neared the city gates, where the streets were quieter, she faintly heard a guard stationed below whisper: “Is that our commander’s ex-wife?”

She turned her head, and the guard quickly ducked back.

No wonder—it seemed the entire army knew.

Shen Rong shifted her gaze to Zhang Wei, who was also looking at her.

She asked: “What are you looking at?”

Zhang Wei flinched and hastily replied: “I’m watching your speed to keep up.”

Shen Rong gave a soft snort, thinking how naive he was. She flicked her whip and urged her horse forward.

Zhang Wei was startled. He hoped his careless words hadn’t offended the former mistress—if it did, he’d be in trouble.

But just as they were about to exit the city, Shen Rong suddenly reined in her horse.

Zhang Wei led the group to catch up, relieved—only to see her turn her horse back a few steps, stopping beneath the city wall. She lifted half her veil and pointed ahead: “Isn’t that your commander’s horse?”

Zhang Wei squinted. Near the city gate, the buildings adjacent to the wall housed the guards. One of them bore a sign with the character “醫” (medicine)—a free medical clinic for soldiers.

Outside its entrance stood a tall, sleek black horse with a patch of white mane. It was unmistakably Shan Zong’s mount.

“It is,” Zhang Wei confirmed, pointing to a nearby chestnut horse: “And that one belongs to Hu Shiyi.”

Shen Rong dismounted: “Let’s go check.”

She removed her veil hat and handed it, along with her riding crop, to Zirui. Then she entered the building ahead.

Inside was modestly furnished with simple chairs and tables. The smell of medicine filled the air.

Shen Rong covered her nose and noticed another room deeper inside. She moved toward it.

A curtain hung at the entrance to the inner room. As she approached, it was lifted, revealing the towering figure of a man.

Who else but Shan Zong?

She nearly bumped into him, stopping abruptly, and looked up: “What are you doing here?”

Shan Zong lowered his gaze: “I should ask you the same. Why are you here?”

Shen Rong didn’t mention his sudden disappearance, simply saying: “I happened to pass by.”

Shan Zong noticed Zhang Wei peeking from the doorway and casually picked up a porcelain teapot, pouring himself a cup of water.

The space was cramped. As he moved, Shen Rong had to follow suit, almost mirroring his movements.

Noticing this, he glanced at her and drained the cup in one gulp.

Standing beside him, Shen Rong noticed a tear in the shoulder of his Hu-style attire, likely clawed by something and smeared with dust.

She studied his face. His eyes were downcast, resembling his appearance after suppressing the riot in the Great Prison—perhaps even more weary.

She surveyed him: “Are you injured?”

“No,” Shan Zong set the cup down.

“Then what are you doing here?”

Shan Zong gestured toward the inner room. Before he could speak, a low hiss came from within: “Ow, gently, gently…”

Shen Rong softened her voice: “What happened to him?”

Inside, Hu Shiyi seemed oblivious to the commotion outside, still whimpering.

Shan Zong’s voice dropped, and he chuckled lightly: “He brought it upon himself.”

When Shan Zong emerged from the underground dungeon, the door opened, and Hu Shiyi foolishly tried to help at the entrance. Something struck him squarely, and he clutched his shoulder in pain. Fortunately, Shan Zong pulled him out.

By the time they arrived here, he was still wincing, though now it seemed better.

“So what about you?” Shen Rong tilted her chin toward his torn shoulder.

Shan Zong glanced at it dismissively: “It’s nothing.”

She studied his profile. His features were striking, especially in this rugged attire, exuding a dangerous aura.

Suddenly, she leaned closer, sniffing lightly.

Shan Zong felt her breath graze his neck. Turning his head, he met her gaze.

Her lashes were long, fluttering softly as her dark, bright eyes locked onto him. Up close, he could see his reflection in her pupils. Her lips nearly brushed his shoulder.

Unconsciously, Shan Zong tensed his shoulder, his gaze falling on her lips.

“What are you doing?” he murmured.

“You smell strange,” she said. The scent was hard to describe—perhaps blood mixed with something else. Instinct told her he had been in a fight.

Shan Zong’s voice grew softer: “Do you realize there are people around?”

Her eyes flickered: “Where?”

The curtain of the inner room was suddenly lifted, and someone emerged.

Turning her head, Shen Rong saw an elderly doctor in plain blue robes observing them silently before averting his gaze.

Shan Zong relaxed his shoulder, smirking faintly at her before turning to ask: “Are you done?”

“Yes,” the doctor replied and went back inside.

Hu Shiyi, clutching his shoulder, was helped out. A woman followed behind, assisting the doctor with his medicine box and acupuncture kit.

Hu Shiyi spotted Shen Rong outside, and Zhang Wei rushed in upon hearing the commotion.

“What happened to you?”

His face flushed red: “Why are you all here?”

So everyone had heard his earlier whimpers?

Shan Zong said: “Enough. Go rest if you’re injured.”

Hu Shiyi finally felt relieved—he wouldn’t have to guard that accursed underground dungeon.

The doctor waved his hand, and the woman set down the medicine box, handing over prepared remedies: “Drink this, then come back for another dose later.”

Hu Shiyi accepted it, rubbing his shoulder and trying to act tough: “It’s nothing serious. I don’t need the medicine.”

Zhang Wei scoffed: “Stop boasting.”

Shan Zong turned his head, noticing Shen Rong still standing there. He took a step outside.

With so many people squeezed into the small space, she had no choice but to follow.

Zhang Wei quickly made way for them.

Shen Rong slowly walked out, and Shan Zong followed closely behind, ducking as he exited.

The remaining people watched them leave.

After they were far enough away, the elderly doctor finally asked: “That was…?”

Hu Shiyi nodded: “Yes, that was her!”