CXD - 62

Take her… to do what?

Jiang Zhiyi almost thought she had misheard, but before she could ask, Yuan Ce had already pulled her back the way they came.

The person in front of her held her hand with one hand and wielded a narrow-bladed saber about a foot long in the other. With a swift horizontal swipe, another painted-face assassin collapsed at their feet.

Jiang Zhiyi let out a scream and leapt over the body, taking the biggest step she had ever taken in her life.

Yuan Ce laughed loudly and charged forward again, his saber slicing through the air like a pen dancing across paper, its movements fluid and precise. The flashes of steel resembled swirling snowflakes, dazzling to the eyes.

She had never seen anyone who, when ambushed, didn’t retreat but instead charged forward. She truly had encountered a madman…

Panting in panic, Jiang Zhiyi was pulled along by Yuan Ce as they raced ahead, dodging left and right while cutting down every assassin in their path.

Watching as each assassin fell one after another, and seeing Yuan Ce effortlessly dispatch them while still finding time to help her over obstacles, Jiang Zhiyi wasn’t sure if she had grown numb or felt reassured, but gradually, she forgot her fear.

Looking down at the hand tightly gripping hers and hearing the pounding of her heart in her chest, she strangely began to feel as though this wasn’t an assassination attempt but rather a reckless elopement.

Amidst the chaos of the streets, the lanterns shone brightly, and the gentle spring breeze brushed against her cheeks, lifting their hair as they ran. He led her through surging crowds, past rows of shops, under the starry sky, as if running toward a horizon without end…

Gazing at his exhilarated profile, Jiang Zhiyi shook her head vigorously, dispelling these strange thoughts.

After countless assassins fell, the street finally grew quiet.

San Qi stepped over the bodies, sword in hand, and bowed: “Young General, aside from one survivor, all others have been dealt with.”

Jiang Zhiyi, still catching her breath, stopped alongside Yuan Ce. Just as she was steadying her breathing, she looked up and saw the blood dripping from San Qi’s sword. Her vision blurred, and her already weak legs buckled.

Yuan Ce shifted to block her view and tightened his grip on her hand: “When you’re with the young mistress, try to be more refined when killing.”

Only then did Jiang Zhiyi recall that during their escape, she hadn’t seen a single drop of blood—before the assassins could even bleed, this madman had already pulled her toward the next target. Now, upon closer inspection, the blade in Yuan Ce’s hand was so fast it barely left any traces of red.

… So this was what it meant to kill “refinedly.”

San Qi lowered his head: “Young General, your lesson is well taken. If not for your timely arrival tonight, the assassins I failed to stop would have…” He hesitated. “I deserve ten thousand deaths!”

“Unfortunately,” Yuan Ce glanced sideways at Jiang Zhiyi, “there was a man accompanying the young mistress. I came to catch her and bring her home.”

Jiang Zhiyi: “… “

Pei Zi Song had only come to pick up his sister… Now, while she was still catching her breath, Yuan Ce was mocking her relentlessly.

Jiang Zhiyi glared at him, steadied her breathing, and turned to San Qi: “Don’t blame yourself. If it weren’t for you holding them off at the front, those assassins wouldn’t have come at us one by one. If they had all attacked at once…”

“The outcome would have been the same.” Yuan Ce cut her off decisively.

Jiang Zhiyi faltered, licked her dry lips, and tried to say something, but suddenly something felt off. She glanced down and realized Yuan Ce was still firmly holding her hand, and she was gripping his in return.

Quickly releasing his hand, Jiang Zhiyi’s gaze flickered as she looked at Yuan Ce, then rubbed the fine sweat from her palm.

As if expecting this reaction, Yuan Ce clicked his tongue softly.

Suddenly, two sets of hurried footsteps approached from behind: “Little Sister Zhiyi, are you hurt?”

Turning around, she saw Pei Xueqing and her brother finally breaking free from the chaotic crowd.

“I’m fine. What about you two?”

Pei Xueqing pointed to Pei Zi Song: “My brother has a wound on his hand. I’ve already applied emergency bandages.”

Jiang Zhiyi gasped: “Was it injured while pulling me away from the blade?”

“It’s just a minor scratch, nothing serious.” Pei Zi Song shook his head.

“But this is the hand you use to write!” Jiang Zhiyi noticed the several layers of bandages wrapped around his right hand and quickly stepped forward.

Yuan Ce watched her retreating figure, opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, tossing the dagger in his hand in frustration.

San Qi eyed Yuan Ce’s displeased expression. It seemed crying children got candy, and injured ones received care. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good thing for the young general to be too capable…

Thinking this, San Qi quickly wiped his bloody sword and smeared the blood all over Yuan Ce’s waist and abdomen: “Oh, Young General, how did you lose so much blood!”

Yuan Ce: “… “

Jiang Zhiyi, who had nearly reached Pei Zi Song, froze mid-step, turned around in shock, and exclaimed: “… You’re injured too!”

Three quarters of an hour later, two soldiers carried a stretcher into the main courtyard of the Shen residence. San Qi followed beside them, pressing Yuan Ce’s waist and abdomen as he lay flat on the stretcher, covering his eyes. Jiang Zhiyi led the way, directing them from behind: “Careful, careful! There’s a step here, don’t let your young general fall…”

Yuan Ce’s murderous glare seeped through the cracks of his fingers, coolly glancing at San Qi.

San Qi hadn’t expected things to turn out this way. Initially, he only wanted the young mistress to look back and show concern for the young general, but the sight of so much blood had alarmed her so much that it escalated into this commotion. Even when Yuan Ce insisted he could walk, the young mistress refused to believe him and insisted he lie on the stretcher.

Minor injuries shouldn’t leave the battlefield, and major ones shouldn’t go on stretchers unless there was only a breath left. No real man in the Xuan Ce Army would willingly be carried like this—it was no wonder Yuan Ce covered his face with his hands, pretending to ignore reality.

Inside the bedroom, Li Da Feng had already arrived with his medical kit. Hearing the commotion, he hurried forward and was about to ask what happened when he looked down and saw San Qi’s hands caked with dried blood.

“?” Meeting San Qi’s sheepish gaze and seeing Yuan Ce’s pitiful state, Li Da Feng blinked slowly and recalled the message he had received earlier: “I heard you… lost a lot of blood?”

Yuan Ce: “… “

Jiang Zhiyi, who had just pulled back the bed curtains to let them place Yuan Ce on the bed, turned back in confusion upon hearing this.

San Qi quickly said: “Young Mistress, could you please send someone to boil some hot water?”

“You hurry and put him on the bed. Doctor Li, I’ll leave this to you.” Jiang Zhiyi turned and hurried out of the room.

As soon as the door closed, Yuan Ce rolled off the stretcher and narrowed his eyes at San Qi: “Are you trying to shorten my lifespan?”

“Young General, you’re ungrateful. At least the young mistress showed concern for you, isn’t that something…”

“If she finds out—” Yuan Ce closed his eyes briefly, snatched a soldier’s waist knife, and moved it toward his own waist.

“Hey!” San Qi hastily stopped him. “Young General, don’t do anything rash! We don’t need to fake it too much. Why don’t we let Doctor Li bandage you up? Whether you’re injured or not, it’ll make no difference afterward…”

Yuan Ce exhaled deeply, removed his outer robe, and sat on the bed.

Li Da Feng quickly bandaged Yuan Ce’s “wound,” picked up his medical bag, and shook his head: “Following you is exhausting. I’m leaving.”

Yuan Ce raised his eyes to glance at him. Just as Li Da Feng pushed open the door, Yuan Ce suddenly remembered something and called out: “Li Da Feng.”

Li Da Feng turned his head: “Anything else?”

Yuan Ce twisted his lips: “Perhaps… have you ever been called ‘Big Brother’?”

“…”

Li Da Feng smiled faintly: “Perhaps… do you know what I’m about to do now?”

“?”

“I’ve been ordered by the young mistress to treat the injuries of Master Pei, whom she cares deeply about.”

“…”

The door clicked shut. Yuan Ce sat expressionlessly on the bed, his hand resting on his knee slowly clenching into a fist.

When Jiang Zhiyi returned after giving instructions to the servants, she found that Li Da Feng and San Qi were no longer in the room. Yuan Ce stood alone by the bed, dressed in a clean new robe, tying his belt.

“Finished bandaging so quickly?” Jiang Zhiyi approached in surprise. “The hot water hasn’t even been boiled yet…”

Yuan Ce paused in tying his belt, avoiding her scrutinizing gaze: “It was just a minor injury.”

“Does losing so much blood count as a minor injury?” Seeing how smoothly he tied his belt and how he appeared completely fine, Jiang Zhiyi’s anxiety eased. However, she remembered that the last time he staged an injury for the Zhong and Zhuo families, his elbow wound had hindered his movement after bandaging.

Frowning slightly, Jiang Zhiyi clenched her sleeve and lowered her head: “Then… how much blood did you lose the last time you stood up for me…”

Seeing her spirits drop, Yuan Ce’s gaze lingered. He hadn’t expected her to dredge up old grievances—not just anger, but sadness. After a moment of hesitation, he murmured: “Also… not much.”

“But last time, I smelled blood after you were bandaged, and this time there was none!” Jiang Zhiyi pouted.

Though her words sounded accusatory, she only cared about his casual dismissal, worrying that he had bled more last time. She never doubted that this injury was fake, just like all the times he had deceived her before.

“All right, all right, let’s not talk about the past,” Jiang Zhiyi came over to support his arm. “Sit down and rest. Don’t bathe today, and if possible, don’t go to the camp tomorrow either…”

Yuan Ce was pushed toward the bed, his feet seeming to resist for a moment. Then, standing by the edge of the bed, he undid the belt he had just tied and loosened his robe.

Jiang Zhiyi quickly turned her back.

“Aren’t you worried about my injury? Turn around; I’ll show you.”

“This time, the place you’re injured… it’s not convenient for me to look. If you’re fine…” Jiang Zhiyi’s words trailed off as she was abruptly turned around. A clean piece of cloth floated down before her eyes, revealing an unblemished body.

Jiang Zhiyi froze, looked up at him, and suspiciously lifted his robe, reaching out to touch his abdomen: “Where’s your injury? Didn’t you get hurt here just now?”

Yuan Ce’s lower abdomen tensed, his body stiffening: “San Qi lied to you.”

“And… I suppose I deceived you as well.”

Jiang Zhiyi blinked blankly, tilting her head up and recalling how everyone had been acting secretive earlier. She had assumed they were shielding her from the sight of blood, preventing her from getting close…

Her hand clenched into a fist at her side, gritting her teeth: “Yuan… Ce—!”

Yuan Ce rubbed his nose with his knuckle.

Jiang Zhiyi’s chest rose and fell rapidly with her anger as she spun on her heel and walked out.

Yuan Ce pulled her back: “This place has been injured before. Last year, when I had a birthmark removed, it hurt quite a bit. Why don’t you pretend it’s today’s injury?”

“Using last year’s injury to deceive me today—how unnecessary…” Jiang Zhiyi paused abruptly, slowly lowering her gaze to his lower left abdomen. “What did you say? You originally had a… birthmark here?”

Yuan Ce nodded: “My older brother didn’t have one, so—”

“What did it look like?” Jiang Zhiyi interrupted urgently.

Although unsure why she was so interested, Yuan Ce slightly pulled down his waistband, revealing the scar left from removing the birthmark.

At this moment, Jiang Zhiyi completely forgot her anger at being deceived and the embarrassment of the situation. She stared intently at the jagged, raised scar and recalled something.

“Wasn’t this birthmark originally red… shaped like a python?”

Yuan Ce’s expression changed: “How do you know?”

Jiang Zhiyi’s eyes widened in shock.

How did she know… because it was written in Yiyi Zhuan .

Why did this storybook keep predicting everything accurately, matching every detail?

Lost in thought, Jiang Zhiyi suddenly remembered New Year’s Eve. Believing the storybook’s claim that the character “Big Brother Ce” didn’t eat beef, she assumed Yuan Ce didn’t either. But as soon as she voiced it, Yuan Ce denied it—

“So… do you really not eat beef?”

Yuan Ce closed his robe and hesitated before nodding slightly.

Jiang Zhiyi sat down on the bed, supporting herself on the edge, lost in thought.

From Pei Xueqing’s jade pendant to Shen Yuan Ce’s pretense of being a spoiled brat, to Yuan Ce’s birthmark and dietary restrictions…

One coincidence might be coincidental, but so many coincidences were hard to believe as mere chance.

Her tangled fate with Yuan Ce had begun because of this storybook. If its existence wasn’t coincidental, then who wrote it? And what was their purpose?

The author knew so many secrets but didn’t expose the Shen family’s crime of deceiving the emperor. Instead, they turned those secrets into a romantic tale and delivered it to her… Was it just to make her and Yuan Ce fall in love?

“Tell me,” Jiang Zhiyi asked seriously, “who knows both about your aversion to eating beef and the appearance of this birthmark?”

Seeing her deep in thought, as if desperate to confirm something, Yuan Ce set aside his own questions and answered: “Li Da Feng, Mu Xin Hong, and my stepmother at home.”

“Just these three?”

“Just these three.”

“Then think carefully. Among those who know these two things, is there anyone who desperately hopes that you and I will fall in love and have a happy marriage? I mean someone who strongly desires it, going to great lengths to make it happen.”

This was a novel question. Yuan Ce pondered and confirmed: “Someone who hopes you and I will fall in love, marry happily, and desires it so strongly they’ll stop at nothing… and also knows about my dietary restrictions and birthmark?”

Jiang Zhiyi nodded solemnly: “Think carefully. Is there such a person?”

“There is.”

“Who?”

Yuan Ce spread his hands: “Isn’t he right in front of you?”

“…………”