CXD - 5

“?”

The person behind her remained calm and composed, his tone serene and unhurried, considering her request with genuine sincerity.

For a moment, Jiang Zhiyi doubted whether she had overestimated his audacity with the worst intentions. She calmly replayed the words in her mind.

“This princess has taken a fancy to you...”

“Me? This humble subject fears he cannot offer himself to the princess.”

...She should have assumed the worst about his audacity, as thick as city walls and wide enough for horses to gallop!

“I...” Jiang Zhiyi trembled as she pointed to the side, “I’m interested in your sword! Your sword!”

Again, there was a rustling sound behind her. Yuance put on his outer robe, fastened his leather belt, and slowly walked forward while adjusting his wrist guards: “Didn’t the princess just say this sword stinks?”

“Does it not allow criticism when it stinks?”

“It can be criticized,” Yuance walked to the desk and lifted the rosewood chair Jiang Zhiyi brought, “but I can also choose not to give the princess my sword.”

He kept calling himself “this subject.” Is this how a subject behaves?

Jiang Zhiyi bit her lip to suppress her irritation, turned back, and glanced at the sword again.

On the ebony sword stand, the precious sword was sealed in its scabbard. The sword scabbard shimmered with cold light, silver and blue colors interweaving fluidly. The hilt bore intricate tiger patterns, and the pommel was embedded with top-quality solid-colored Gobi black jade—it indeed looked like the finest piece among scrap metal.

Her dignity was lost, her pride hurt; she absolutely had to take this sword today.

Yuance sat in his own chair, picked up the teacup intended for Jiang Zhiyi, and watched her indifferently, seemingly waiting for her to slink away in embarrassment.

Jiang Zhiyi glared back at him, maintaining eye contact while gesturing behind her back to Jingzhe.

After an initial shock, Jingzhe quickly calmed down, stealthily took out an object from her sleeve, and slipped it into Jiang Zhiyi’s palm.

Then Jiang Zhiyi extended three fingers.

Two fingers.

One finger.

Jingzhe suddenly turned and pushed open the sword scabbard.

Jiang Zhiyi swiftly turned around, drew the braid across, and made a cut.

The teacup that Yuance had raised to his lips paused.

Jiang Zhiyi exhaled deeply upon seeing the two halves of the severed braid. In an angle invisible to those behind her, she handed the remnants to Jingzhe, shook her hand lightly, and nonchalantly turned back: “Now, this princess has no interest in your sword anymore.”

With that, she nodded to signal her departure, lowered her veil, and gracefully walked out of the tent.

“...”

Yuance held the teacup, glanced at the unsheathed sword, slowly shifted his gaze downward, and blinked slowly at the two strands of hair floating down through the air.

“The princess must not have noticed earlier, Young General Shen was completely awestruck by you!” Back in the city, at the entrance of the Yong’en Marquis Mansion, Jingzhe helped Jiang Zhiyi down from the carriage.

Jiang Zhiyi’s lips curved slightly as she sat on the mansion’s sedan chair, holding a hand warmer and leaning lazily back: “It seems I left too quickly. I should have stayed longer to truly appreciate the moment.”

Seeing Jiang Zhiyi rarely smiling, Jingzhe chatted joyfully with her as they went inside. Passing by Huifeng Courtyard, a dispirited figure suddenly appeared ahead.

Jiang Zhiyi’s smiling face immediately turned cold.

Fang Zongming seemed to have just come out from Lady Zhong’s quarters, his hands tucked into his cloak, walking dejectedly. Upon seeing Jiang Zhiyi’s sedan chair, his legs tangled awkwardly, making his already sickly pale face even more gray. He completely lost the confident demeanor he had displayed yesterday when he looked at her like something already in his grasp.

Sitting higher in the sedan chair, Jiang Zhiyi shot a cold glance down at him, which seemed to scare him.

Fang Zongming nervously looked around, didn’t even greet her, and fled hastily into a nearby path.

The sedan chair continued forward. After passing Huifeng Courtyard, Jingzhe whispered: “Princess, seeing Master Fang coming out of Lady’s courtyard like this, they likely guessed it was you who took the sachet.”

Jiang Zhiyi tugged the corner of her mouth: “With their limited abilities, let them guess then.”

Jingzhe laughed along: “Now that the prescription is broken, and the evidence is in your hands, and the letter you wrote to Lord Marquis has been sent, Master Fang will see you like a rat seeing a cat. Now it’s their turn to lose sleep and appetite. Princess, just think about tonight’s dinner.”

“If that ghostly military camp didn’t freeze anyone to death, let’s have mutton soup hot pot tonight, prepare some fresh fish, paired with dew-cooled juice,” Jiang Zhiyi tapped her fingertips thoughtfully, “Oh right, invite the chef from the newly opened restaurant in Changxing Lane. They say even His Majesty praised their dishes.”

“Shall we hire some musicians and dancers to add some fun?”

“Very well,” Jiang Zhiyi waved her sleeve enthusiastically, “Arrange everything.”

While Jiang Zhiyi enjoyed peaceful days, Huifeng Courtyard seemed to be plagued by misfortune.

For several consecutive days, servants passing by the courtyard tiptoed quietly, fearing to incur Lady’s wrath.

It was heard that Master Fang had caught a cold and fallen ill. Doctors were called one after another, even imperial physicians came to examine him. Medicines flowed in like water, but Master Fang’s high fever persisted without improvement.

Lady wept every day, lamenting that her son had been born frail, destined for a short life. She wondered what sins she committed in her past life, that Heaven would punish her and their Fang family so cruelly.

The entire Yong’en Marquis Mansion was immersed in sorrow, as if mourning banners would soon be set up and white silk hung. Only Yaoguang Pavilion stood isolated, filled nightly with music, dancers, and opera troupes—new groups arriving as others left, creating a unique vibrancy.

“The servants outside are gossiping, saying Lady is extremely angry these days. With Master Fang in such a state, not only did you not visit, but you also arranged lively performances, as if wishing Master Fang would pass sooner…”

—This afternoon, Jingzhe spoke of the happenings in the mansion to Jiang Zhiyi.

Jiang Zhiyi lounged idly on the divan in the warm pavilion, gently stroking the cat in her lap: “Even though Lady is so angry, why doesn’t she come to confront me?”

“How dare they?” Jingzhe smiled momentarily before becoming serious again, “Master Fang clearly isn’t suffering from a cold. It’s obvious he realized his scheme was exposed, became guilty and scared out of his wits. Drinking herbal medicine won’t help. Since Lady is so superstitious about witchcraft, perhaps inviting a great shaman to call back his soul would be better! If he really can’t pull through, it’s their own fault!”

Some word must have caught her ear, because Jiang Zhiyi lost interest in others’ affairs, sat upright, and asked: “Talking about food makes me hungry. I told Guyu to buy some pastries. Why hasn’t she returned yet?”

On the street in Changxing Lane, Guyu held two food boxes in each hand, turning to walk left when an old, one-eyed Taoist followed suit. As she changed direction to the right, the old man blocked her again, preventing her from boarding the carriage.

“Master, I’ve told you, I don’t predict fortunes or cast hexagrams. If you keep blocking me, I’ll call for help!” Guyu angrily scolded.

“Young lady,” the old Taoist held up his divination flag in one hand and stroked his long beard with the other, “I don’t ask for money. I merely see that your brow is darkened, indicating impending disaster. I kindly warn you!”

“If you continue to block me now, I’ll truly be in trouble!” Guyu glanced at the sky, growing more anxious. She quickly sidestepped and headed toward the carriage.

“Miss, I see someone in your household is blessed by the Three Pure Ones, having survived a calamity, but they haven’t personally gone to burn incense and repay the favor at the deity’s altar. They might suffer divine retribution!” the old Taoist shouted from behind.

“Where does this江湖騙子 (swindler) come from? I’m the only one left in my household, so I’m not afraid of your curses!” Guyu glared back at him, about to lift the curtain and board the carriage when she suddenly froze.

“Truly only you? Miss, think carefully again...”

“Trouble!” Guyu remembered something, urgently jumped onto the carriage, and instructed the coachman, “Hurry, hurry back to the mansion!”

Early morning the next day, outskirts of the capital.

The sky was just beginning to lighten, the cold mist not yet fully dissipated. Inside the rumbling carriage, Jiang Zhiyi was catching up on sleep on the small couch.

Yesterday, when Guyu returned from the streets and relayed the old Taoist’s words, Jiang Zhiyi recalled that after breaking the spell, she hadn’t donated oil money at Taiqing Temple. Reflecting on it, she somewhat disregarded the Three Pure Ones.

But wouldn’t divine retribution be too harsh for that?

Thinking this, she lost interest in revelry. Last night, being idle, Jiang Zhiyi took out the book Yiyi Zhuan again, enduring the torment of the “Shen Yuance” character within, and carefully examined what the female protagonist did after consulting the oracle at the temple.

Upon finishing, she decided to follow suit and make an early trip to Taiqing Temple to fulfill this ritual properly.

However, lately, she had grown accustomed to sleeping until late morning. Suddenly waking up early felt unusual, and she fell asleep as soon as she boarded the carriage.

Seeing the person on the small couch frowning tightly, forehead drenched in sweat, apparently dreaming something unsettling, Jingzhe prepared a damp towel and approached.

Before she could wipe her forehead, Jiang Zhiyi suddenly opened her eyes wide: “... Brother Ce!”

Jingzhe was startled, about to ask if Jiang Zhiyi had a nightmare, but before she could speak—

“??? “

What, what brother?

Jiang Zhiyi gasped a few times, staring blankly at the roof of the carriage, blinking dazedly before abruptly sitting up.

“My lady?”

“Where am I...” Jiang Zhiyi looked around bewildered.

“On the way to Taiqing Temple, my lady. Did you dream of... Young General Shen?”

Jiang Zhiyi’s expression slowly turned from confusion to shock, disbelief, and reluctance: “... What did I just call out?”

“You called out ‘Brother Ce’...”

Jiang Zhiyi snapped alert, raising her hand to stop her, taking a deep breath, and stiffly pointing at the teacup.

Jingzhe hurriedly handed her the tea.

Jiang Zhiyi took it and began rinsing her mouth.

Spit, spit, spit!

All thanks to the protagonist of Yiyi Zhuan , whose story mirrored hers so closely, and the male protagonist modeled after Shen Yuance. She had read it too many times, almost brainwashed into believing it, and just now dreamed she became Yiyi from the storybook—her mind full of nothing but her lover, calling out “Brother Ce” incessantly, spewing cheesy lines.

In her dream, she waited bitterly for three years, finally awaiting her lover’s return from the border, only to find him unrecognizing, as if he had completely forgotten her...

Jiang Zhiyi raised her hand, astonished as she touched her moistened eyes.

The heartbreak and despair of abandonment in the dream felt too real, with scenes identical to the day she saw Shen Yuance’s triumphant return at the teahouse.

Reflecting on this, she found herself unable to distinguish between reality and dreams...

Jiang Zhiyi shook her dizzy head, stopping the reflection, and asked Jingzhe: “After I finished reading yesterday, where did you put that storybook?”

“Worried it might cause trouble easily, I locked it in the book chest for safekeeping.”

“Burn it as soon as we get back, burn it to ashes, completely obliterate it!”

“I’ll remember.”

Jiang Zhiyi rubbed her throbbing temples, feeling dizzy from the dream, resting against a cushion for a while before asking: “Where are we now?”

“We still have a ways to go before reaching Taiqing Temple...”

Before her words faded, a shrill horse neigh pierced the air. The carriage came to an abrupt halt, and Jiang Zhiyi screamed as she lurched forward.

Jingzhe barely managed to steady her, urgently asking outside: “What happened!”

“A tripping rope! Bandits! Protect the carriage!”

Outside, guards drew their swords, and the clanging of blades erupted into chaos.

“...Under the emperor’s nose, in the suburban area, how could bandits appear?” Jingzhe peeked out through a crack in the curtain, seeing gangs of bandits wielding large knives swarming towards them, encircling the carriage in an instant.

Inside the carriage, furnishings were scattered, utensils shattered everywhere. Jiang Zhiyi panted, still shaken.

Before she could gather her wits, a dull “clang” sounded—a large knife flew and hacked at the carriage wheel. The wheel sank, and the carriage tilted heavily.

Jiang Zhiyi was thrown against the carriage wall, her head hitting it solidly with a “thud.”

“My lady! We can’t stay in the carriage. We must get out!”

Dizzy from the spinning world, Jiang Zhiyi winced painfully, watching Jingzhe’s lips move but hearing no words. Dazed, she was pulled out of the carriage.

The ground beneath her feet was uneven mountain paths, surrounded by desolate yellow wilderness.

Surrounded by guards, Jiang Zhiyi felt like a drifting lily pad, as if heaven and earth had flipped upside down, everyone around her swaying with double images.

Her head felt heavy, her feet like stepping on cotton, her ears stuffed as if with cloth. The sounds of fighting nearby, though close, seemed distant like over a mountain.

Swords and blades flashed overhead. Jiang Zhiyi, pulled by Jingzhe, dodged left and right, vaguely hearing Jingzhe shouting beside her ear, something about a slope, something about running over.

Jiang Zhiyi squinted, following where Jingzhe pointed, and saw a high slope.

Golden sunlight spilled over the mountaintop, illuminating the layered forest, melting the frost on the withered grass.

Through the tall grass, a figure atop a horse seemed to be silently observing the slaughter below.

His presence and demeanor didn’t resemble a bandit.

Yet, his gaze, falling coldly upon them, was utterly indifferent, as if looking at a group of ants.

As the surrounding guards fell one by one, the encirclement tightened. Jiang Zhiyi, dazed, stared at the figure, suddenly shoved hard by Jingzhe.

“My lady, behind the slope is... hurry, seek help...!”

Jiang Zhiyi, her head spinning, finally grasped the message after a sluggish moment, stumbling up the slope.

The mountain paths and trees before her eyes swayed continuously, the morning glow casting a surreal halo around the distant dark-robed youth on horseback, making him seem ethereal as if in a dream.

The footsteps chasing behind grew closer. Jiang Zhiyi pressed her racing heart, gasping for breath as she called upward: “Help... help...”

The young man on horseback turned his head.

His handsome features perfectly overlapped with the face from her recent dream.

Jiang Zhiyi finally realized, Jingzhe meant—the slope led to the Xiance Army’s camp.

“Shen, Shen Yuance...” Cold wind rushed into her throat, choking her lungs, making her vision blur with golden stars. Jiang Zhiyi struggled upwards, her head growing heavier, her steps increasingly unstable. Reaching the mounted figure, her knees gave way, and she collapsed to the ground.

Enduring the pain, Jiang Zhiyi looked up, wanting to say something but couldn’t utter a sound. Gazing at the dark robe inches away, she laboriously raised her hand, clutching a corner of the garment as if grabbing a lifeline.

The rider furrowed his brows, lowering his lashes. His aloof gaze landed briefly on her head. His distinct fingers lightly pinched the fabric, slowly pulling it back.

The pale hand fell back into the mud.

At the same time, the pursuing bandits arrived.

Jiang Zhiyi’s heart sank into despair, recalling her earlier dream. Collapsed on the ground, she frantically turned back, seeing the bloody large knife. Her vision darkened, and she fainted.

Before losing consciousness, only one thought remained in her mind—

If she died here today, she would never forgive Shen Yuance even in death...!