The snow grew heavier and heavier, pouring down in a blanket that covered everything.
The bare ground, stripped of even a blade of grass, and the rolling mountains beyond, were all swallowed up by the swirling snow, leaving only a hazy expanse of white mist.
Jiang Yue, dressed in white, his face half-covered, carried the burning-hot Wen Zhuo on his back, moving with agile speed through the forest hung with clumps of snow.
He was powerfully built, and even carrying a man larger than himself, he was still able to press forward at great speed.
What Jiang Yue needed to do was get Wen Zhuo to the Daixian relay station as quickly as possible.
There, the forces of Great Yong and the Northern Di overlapped, and as long as the payment was sufficient, the station’s runners could secretly cross the Northern Di border and get Wen Zhuo safely into Great Yong’s territory.
A quarter hour earlier, following Fu Ying’s order, he had wrapped his face tightly and come to the main room.
The moment he stepped past the screen, he had very nearly been struck by a sharp, gleaming blade.
Dodging aside just in time, Jiang Yue had used only three fingers to knock the back of the blade away, explaining: “Young master, no need to panic. I am a shadow guard sent by the young lady’s order to escort you to safety.”
Wen Zhuo, having practiced martial arts since childhood and honed his skill to perfection, was no ordinary fighter, and seeing how easily Jiang Yue had dodged his attack, he believed the man’s words and withdrew his blade.
On his way in, Jiang Yue had already knocked out the guards at the door, so the two of them could escape directly over the back wall.
Seeing that Wen Zhuo looked rather weak, Jiang Yue proposed: “Young master is unwell and may not be able to flee quickly. Shall I carry you on my back?”
Jiang Yue stood eight chi tall, his body straight as a pine, and Wen Zhuo was an inch or two taller than him still.
Fu Ying had already urgently sent a shadow guard, his presence must have already been exposed.
With danger pressing in on all sides, he had no choice but to nod, though he still felt some unease: “If you feel tired, put me down and rest at once.”
“It’s fine,” Jiang Yue said, quite confident in his own stamina. “Carrying the young master for a quarter hour is no trouble at all.”
Once Wen Zhuo had finished dressing, Jiang Yue carried him on his back without a moment’s delay, and like a ghostly wraith, leapt lightly down from the second floor, crossed the high wall in a few bounds, and vanished into the swirling storm of shattered jade and scattered snow.
Carrying Wen Zhuo, Jiang Yue left behind only a single trail of footprints.
Fortunately, the heavens were on their side, if Shang Jue’s group discovered Wen Zhuo’s departure a little later, this heavy snowfall would completely cover their tracks.
He did not travel in a straight line, but circled east for a while, crossed a frozen river, then headed west for a stretch, misleading Shang Jue’s men for the moment and buying them precious time to escape.
Jiang Yue’s speed was truly astonishing, unstoppable amid the wind and snow, his white robe nearly blending into the falling snow itself.
For Wen Zhuo, riding on his back was far less comfortable.
Jiang Yue’s strides were long, jolting him up and down so badly it felt as though his internal organs had all shifted out of place.
Already suffering from a chill, being whipped by the fierce wind and snow like this seemed to send his fever climbing even higher.
The whole world before his eyes was spinning, his head grew heavy and dizzy, and he drifted, closing his eyes in a daze.
It seemed that if he could just fall asleep, he would no longer feel this unbearable pain.
……
“Young master! Wake up—”
He had no idea how much time had passed when Wen Zhuo faintly heard Jiang Yue’s urgent call.
His brow furrowed tightly. The dense, falling snow struck his face and melted instantly, and that unceasing, bone-deep chill made him struggle to slowly open his eyes.
Seeing that Wen Zhuo was in a bad state, Jiang Yue stopped: “Let me put you down to rest for a moment.”
Wen Zhuo nodded slowly, truly unwilling to spend what little strength he had left on speaking.
Jiang Yue bent down, gently lowering Wen Zhuo’s massive body to the ground, letting his arm drape over his own shoulder, holding him close so he would not fall.
Wen Zhuo pressed his other hand against his own chest, which had been under strain for so long, breathing in great gasps without pause.
Jiang Yue, too, was out of breath by now.
He had carried a grown man twenty li, the pulse pounding fiercely at his temples, blood rushing to his head, the sweat that beaded on him scattering instantly into mist in the cold wind.
While they paused to rest, Jiang Yue took stock of their surroundings.
They had run to the edge of this mountain, ahead lay a large slope. Going down would require great care, the slightest misstep could send them sliding.
“There they are!!”
A loud voice cut through the snow, reaching both their ears.
The innate alertness in both Wen Zhuo and Jiang Yue was sharply triggered, and the air around them seemed to freeze solid.
“Whoosh whoosh!”
The pursuers coming from behind on both sides raised a row of crossbows, and sharp bolts, unstoppable as splitting bamboo, shot toward them at tremendous speed.
“Young master, watch out!”
Before he could even turn around, Jiang Yue’s exceptional hearing caught the strange sound, and he shoved Wen Zhuo hard, sending several crossbow bolts flying through the gap that opened between their bodies.
Dizzy and disoriented, Wen Zhuo, shoved with great force, staggered several steps before barely managing to steady himself.
“Shua—”
Suddenly a gust of wind tore past his ear, and his pupils contracted sharply, even gathering all his focus, he could not catch the blur that had shot past.
A crossbow bolt flew in at high speed and drove into his left knee, striking with a metallic clash against the kneecap, the force so great it drove his left leg back a full step.
“Ngh……”
Searing pain struck him instantly, as though countless steel needles had pierced straight into the bone.
Cold sweat broke out on Wen Zhuo from the agony, and gritting his teeth, he staggered backward uncontrollably.
“Young master!”
Jiang Yue’s face went pale with shock, reaching out to catch him.
A crushing sense of danger enveloped them both, as a fresh volley of crossbow bolts came whistling toward them again.
Gritting his back teeth, Jiang Yue rolled and lunged forward, wrapping both arms tightly around Wen Zhuo’s body, hurling himself forward and leaping into the air.
The two of them tumbled together down the steep slope, vanishing into the wild, swirling expanse of falling snow.
Shang Jue came into the hall and, seeing Fu Ying sitting by the window, called her over.
“A Ying, there’s one more matter I came to tell you about.”
Fu Ying turned to look at him, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
Wei Changxi beside him cleared his throat, unrolled the document in his hands, and read it aloud solemnly:
“Foster daughter Fu Ying, gentle and warm, virtuous and prudent in her person. Now that you, Princess Huaining, have reached the age of hairpinning, may the first purification rites be granted you. It is fitting to bestow upon you a name of beauty, to display your excellence, and to foster harmony and filial propriety throughout the realm.”
Fu Ying’s eyes widened instantly, filled with astonishment and confusion.
Seeing Shang Jue watching her gently, Fu Ying realized she must not forget her manners, and lifting the hem of her skirt, knelt on both knees, drawing her arms in as she bowed low to the ground.
“Fu Ying bows in gratitude for my foster father’s boundless kindness.”
“Rise, A Ying.”
Unable to bear watching Fu Ying perform such a full kowtow, Shang Jue stepped forward and helped her up. “Father has already named you Princess Huaining. The document has already been drafted, and the investiture ceremony will be held once your mourning period is complete.”
Fu Ying’s amber eyes clouded with a mist of tears, and she murmured softly: “Brother, please thank my foster father on my behalf. A Ying will never forget this kindness for the rest of my life……”
Even though the ceremony could not be held during her mourning period, granting her this authority in advance still moved something in her long-frozen heart.
Shang Jue tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “After what happened in the palace that night, you left the princess’s title behind and came here to observe mourning, cutting yourself off from everything of the Northern Di. But you should know, in these turbulent times, status and position matter a great deal. Your brother cannot always be by your side to protect you, but I hope you will have the strength to look after yourself.”
“All right.”
Hearing Shang Jue’s explanation, Fu Ying sniffed, and at last, a smile she had not shown in a long while appeared on her face.
By the hour of wei, the heavy snow had finally stopped, though the sun still had not come out, the leaden-white sky stretching bare and washed clean, casting a dim gray over everything.
Shang Jue put on his cloak, fastened the sash, then turned to Fu Ying and said: “A Ying, I’ll be going now. Take good care of yourself these coming days.”
Fu Ying answered: “A Ying understands. Thank you, brother, for thinking of me.”
Shang Jue nodded, then walked out through the main gate together with Wei Changxi, Fu Ying and Bi Luo following behind to see him off.
“Oh, that reminds me,” Shang Jue recalled another matter. “A Ying, Fu Sang and Changxi come from the same hometown. He has already helped her find her parents. The couple has missed their daughter, separated from them since childhood, very much, and I wanted to mention this while I was here today.”
Fu Ying already knew that both Fu Sang and Wei Changxi were originally from Nanyang.
“Eunuch Wei has such a kind heart, to still remember Fu Sang after all this. Then let brother take Fu Sang back to the city with you, just be sure to remember to have her parents treat her well, and make up for all the family affection she’s missed these years.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve already had Fu Sang get into the carriage.”
Fu Ying paused, then continued: “It’s only that A Ying and Fu Sang have shared this bond of mistress and maid, and I would like to say goodbye to her.”
Shang Jue patted her arm gently and said with a smile: “She’s already eager to get back to the city with me. Besides, it’s not as though you two will never see each other again.”
Hearing this, Fu Ying gradually understood something, and her heart went cold with dread.
If her guess was correct, they would never let her see Fu Sang again.
“Chen Shi.”
“Your subordinate is here.”
Hearing Shang Jue call his name, Chen Shi hurried over in small steps, standing upright behind him.
“Father has already named A Ying Princess Huaining. From now on, you are to fulfill your duties faithfully and protect A Ying’s safety. Her orders are my orders, you are not to disobey them!”
“Understood, Your Highness.”
Chen Shi was a simple-minded soldier, ordering him to interrogate someone had produced all this trouble, forcing Shang Jue himself to come and take Fu Sang away, cleaning up the mess he had made.
Shang Jue was quite displeased about this. Perhaps too much power had made Chen Shi somewhat full of himself, so before leaving, he gave him a warning to knock some of the arrogance out of him.
Fu Ying saw Shang Jue up into his carriage, watching the group slowly depart. “Travel safely, brother.”
It had already been half an hour since Jiang Yue had taken Wen Zhuo and fled, with still no word, she was now burning with anxiety, restless and on edge, with no room left in her heart to savor the joy of her investiture.
She and Bi Luo returned together to the second-floor main room, which now, as always, stood empty.
From now on, there would no longer be a tall, upright figure standing before the writing table, admiring her calligraphy and paintings, nor would there be anyone willing to let her pour out her heart, soothing her pain in every way.
Fu Ying’s lashes lowered, her thoughts scattering in a thousand directions, sorrow washing over her heart like a tide.
She came and sat at the table. The Spring and Autumn Annals lying there still remained open to the page of the first year of Duke Wen. She read on slowly, waiting for Jiang Yue.
Half an hour later.
The door on the second floor was flung open with a bang, then slammed shut with equal force.
“Young lady!”
At the same moment as this urgent cry, Jiang Yue burst hurriedly into the room.
Seeing him, Fu Ying was so startled the scroll in her hands fell to the floor.
His white robe was covered in spattered blood, scattered everywhere like thousands of brilliant plum blossoms, blooming on snow-covered branches.
Bi Luo clapped a hand over her mouth in shock: “Ah—Young master Jiang, what happened to you……?”
Fu Ying shot to her feet, her pupils trembling uncontrollably.
“What happened with the task I gave you? Why have you come back alone, and in such a state?”