The sound of rain masked most of the unusual noises, and for Qing Dynasty, who had lived by the blade for years, the perception of danger had become an instinct.
Qing Dynasty’s ears twitched slightly, his hand pressed against the hilt of his sword, and he barked in a stern, low voice: "Be on guard."
Almost at the same instant he spoke, several dark shadows lunged toward the carriage from different directions like ghosts.
"Protect Your Highness!" Qing Dynasty roared, and the forest was instantly filled with a heavy murderous aura.
Inside the carriage, Fu Xihe opened his eyes, with no trace of sleepiness in his gaze.
What was meant to come had finally arrived; Xie Qing truly would not let him reach the Capital City safely.
Song Yi'an was also startled awake by the sudden shouts of battle. She hugged Xiao Bai, who was alert at her feet, and subconsciously shrank toward Fu Xihe. Her small face was tense, and she dared not even breathe loudly.
In her heart, she wanted to cry but had no tears; she only wanted to go to the Capital City to see her mother and brother, so why was it so difficult?
When others transmigrated, they lived in luxury and held power, but as for her, she was either running for her life or running for her life along the way.
Fu Xihe picked up a long sword: "Little one, stay close."
Song Yi'an looked up, meeting the young man's solemn profile, and her expression went blank for a moment.
Stay close? Stay close to where? Outside, there were flashing swords and shadows; they were just a twelve-year-old and a seven-year-old—were they going out to throw their lives away?
She opened her mouth, but in the end, she only managed to squeeze out one word: "Oh."
She missed her life in Luo Town.
At this moment, an assassin broke through the outer perimeter and suddenly burst into the carriage. In the blink of an eye, a cold light flashed, and the assassin was killed by Fu Xihe with a single strike to the throat.
The entire process took no more than a breath or two.
Song Yi'an hugged Xiao Bai, her eyes wide: so, the twelve years of one person were not the same as the twelve years of another.
Before she could recover from this cognitive shock, Fu Xihe stepped in front of her. Without a word, he grabbed her by the back of her collar, and like picking up a small chick, he tossed her steadily onto the horse's back.
"Ah." The sensation of weightlessness made Song Yi'an let out a short scream, and she scrambled to hug the horse's neck tightly.
Immediately after, Fu Xihe cut the tether, kicked off the ground, and leaped up, landing steadily behind her. He reached around her to grab the reins, shielding her against his chest.
"Qing Dynasty, follow the plan. See you in the Capital City," he shouted.
As his voice fell, Fu Xihe spurred the horse, carrying the two of them like an arrow released from a bow, breaking through the heavy encirclement and galloping toward the direction of the Capital City.
However, the opposing side had many people and was well-prepared.
Not long after they rushed out, several dark shadows appeared in the rainy night ahead to intercept them. The bows and arrows in their hands were already fully drawn, and the sound of arrows pierced the sky, with several arrows grazing past Fu Xihe's shoulder.
Fu Xihe’s eyes turned sharp, and he pulled the reins hard, forcing the horse to change direction and charge toward the left.
The terrain on the left was complex, with dense trees obscuring the view, making it easier to shake off the enemies.
It would be a lie to say Song Yi'an wasn't nervous, but as a seven-year-old child with thin arms and legs, she couldn't help at all, so she could only try to minimize her presence.
The pursuers behind were relentless. If the little one stayed with him, it would only be more dangerous; not only could he not protect her, but both of them would likely perish here.
"Listen, little one, from now on, you have to rely on yourself." His voice was very low, carrying a sense of determination.
Upon hearing this, Song Yi'an only had time to glance at the Fairy's tense jawline.
The next second, she was off the saddle. Amidst the spinning world, she only felt countless wet and cold branches scraping against her body before she was instantly swallowed by the lush grass.
"Hide yourself well and survive."
At almost the same moment, Fu Xihe drew the full attention of the pursuers behind him toward himself.
...
The rain began to ease.
In the corner of a desolate temple, Song Yi'an was dazed. The wet cloth in her hand fell to the ground, and she rubbed her eyes, moving over on tiptoe.
On a hay pile, Fu Xihe’s eyes were tightly shut, and fine cold sweat seeped from his forehead. There was a deep knife wound on his chest, deep enough to see the bone, but it had been properly treated and was no longer bleeding.
Song Yi'an used a wet cloth to gently dab the sweat from his forehead, looking down at the unconscious young man. That beautiful face was now full of pain.
On a whim, she reached out her finger to touch his long, curled eyelashes, whispering to herself.
"Fairy, you saved my life, and now I've saved yours, so we're even."
It turned out that last night, after Song Yi'an was thrown into the grass, her conscience wouldn't let her leave alone.
She stayed in the grass until the sky grew slightly bright, and following the horse's hoofprints, she found the severely injured Fairy near the desolate temple.
His moon-white brocade robe had long been stained dark red with blood, his face was as pale as paper, and his breathing was so weak it was almost imperceptible. If she didn't treat him immediately, he probably wouldn't live to see tomorrow's sun.
Beside him lay the corpses of three black-clad assassins.
The space could not hold living things, but it could hold corpses. To prevent the assassins' accomplices from tracking them, Song Yi'an put the three bodies into the space and then laboriously dragged Fu Xihe into this ruined temple to hide.
First, she used spirit water to clean the Fairy's wounds, then she gathered some herbs from the forest that stopped bleeding, crushed them, and applied them to the wounds.
Just in case, she also fed the Fairy some spirit water.
His pale face slowly regained a hint of color, and his wounds did not worsen. Although he remained unconscious, his breathing was much steadier.
Song Yi'an let out a long breath; they were temporarily safe.
At this moment, her stomach growled inappropriately, sounding particularly abrupt in the desolate temple. Having hidden for a day and a night, the little bit of rabbit meat she had eaten last night was completely exhausted.
Song Yi'an decided to find food and clean water for both of them; the Fairy would also need to replenish his strength after waking up.
Thinking that leaving the Fairy alone in the temple might not be safe, Song Yi'an’s gaze fell on Xiao Bai, who had been following her closely.
Xiao Bai was no longer the palm-sized puppy from a month ago.
Due to long-term consumption of spirit water, Xiao Bai grew rapidly. Its size was already more than twice that of an ordinary puppy of the same age, its eyes were bright and spirited, and it was beginning to show the form of a large dog.
She squatted down, pointed at the unconscious Fu Xihe, and instructed earnestly: "Xiao Bai, you stay here and look after the Fairy. You are not allowed to leave the Fairy for even a step, understand?"
"Woof!"
Xiao Bai understood Song Yi'an's command and immediately walked to Fu Xihe's side and lay down.
Only then did Song Yi'an feel at ease leaving the desolate temple.
Her luck was not bad. She hadn't walked far before she heard the sound of babbling water. Following the sound, a clear stream appeared before her eyes. The water was not deep, and she could see a few small fish.
There were still the bamboo tubes and pottery jar she had brought from Luo Town in the space. Song Yi'an refilled them with stream water. After doing this, she cupped several handfuls of stream water and scrubbed her face vigorously; her face had been too dirty to look at.
She looked at her blurry reflection in the water, and her gray, dusty face finally revealed its original fair complexion.
Afterward, she smoothed out her tangled hair with the stream water, her ten fingers moving nimbly, and soon tied it into a neat ponytail at the back of her head.
After tidying up, she looked much fresher, at least no longer like a little beggar.
The water source was solved, and what remained was food.
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