“Stop!”
An aged, stern, yet urgent voice rang out without warning.
The old steward, Uncle Li, had somehow appeared at the courtyard entrance. Clutched in his hand was a telegram sealed with red wax. He hurried forward, his stooped frame moving with surprising speed, the deeply lined face rarely showing such grave urgency.
He rushed to Xu Feng’s side and lowered his voice, speaking rapidly.
“Governor! An urgent telegram from the northern front! Something has changed on Marshal Feng’s side! Adjutant Wang requests your immediate presence in the Front Hall for discussion! It’s extremely urgent!”
The murderous expression on Xu Feng’s face instantly darkened.
The northern front… Marshal Feng…
That concerned not only the survival of Linjiang City, but the very foundation of Xu Feng’s power.
His hawk-like gaze immediately shifted away from Qin Shu and Floating Cloud, drawn instead toward prey of far greater importance.
Irritated, he glanced at the chaotic courtyard. His eyes landed on Floating Cloud’s back, mangled and soaked in blood.
Then they fell upon Qin Shu’s hand, stained crimson yet still stubbornly raised toward the sky.
The fury surging within his eyes was replaced by cold indifference, mixed with annoyance at having his affairs interrupted.
“What bad luck.”
He cursed under his breath, as though everything before him was nothing more than a pile of garbage that needed cleaning.
With an impatient wave of his hand, as if shooing away flies, he barked, “Get back into your rat hole! If there’s a next time, I’ll have you beaten to death and fed to the dogs!”
Without another glance, he turned around.
The hem of his blue-gray military coat swept through the air in a cold arc as he strode toward the Front Hall.
His boots crunched heavily across the snow.
Wang Zhenbiao immediately gestured for the soldiers to put away their whips before following close behind.
Cui Xi hurriedly supported the still-fake-sobbing Qin Yan. Before leaving, Qin Yan shot a vicious glare at Qin Shu and Floating Cloud, who still clung to each other, a frigid smile of satisfaction curling across her lips.
The courtyard gate slammed shut once more.
The harsh scrape of the lock echoed through the dead silence.
The cold wind carried the scent of blood, swirling through the dilapidated Side Courtyard.
All the noise…
All the violence…
Vanished like a receding tide.
Only an icy silence remained.
Along with the suffocating smell of blood.
Qin Shu remained frozen where she stood.
The hand she had raised toward the descending whip still hung in midair.
Her fingertips were cold, coated with thick, warm liquid.
It was not her blood.
It was Floating Cloud’s.
Scalding blood, still carrying the warmth of life, continued seeping from the body she held tightly, soaking through her faded gray-blue jacket and burning against her skin.
“M… Madam…”
A broken whisper, so faint it was barely audible, escaped from the girl in her arms.
Qin Shu jolted awake as if struck.
Her heart felt as though an icy hand had seized it.
She hurriedly tightened her embrace, supporting Floating Cloud’s limp body as she lowered her head.
Floating Cloud’s face was white as paper.
She had bitten her own lips until they were shredded, streaked with blood.
Her eyes remained tightly shut.
Long lashes cast fragile shadows across her bloodless cheeks.
Cold sweat drenched her temples, mixing with blood and grime as it clung to her skin.
But the most horrifying sight was her back.
The thin old clothing had long since been shredded apart by the whip.
Several deep lash wounds crisscrossed her back, so severe that bone could nearly be seen.
Her flesh had split open.
Blood poured endlessly from the wounds.
It flowed down her frail spine, dripping onto Qin Shu’s feet and spreading across the icy snow into an expanding pool of thick, dark crimson.
“Floating Cloud!”
Qin Shu cried out hoarsely.
Her cracked voice trembled in a way she herself did not realize.
She instinctively reached out, trying to press against the gruesome wounds.
The moment her fingertips touched the torn flesh and warm blood, a suffocating agony overwhelmed her.
The pain did not come from her fingers.
It came from her soul.
Watching the blood continue to gush…
Watching Floating Cloud’s lifeless face…
Qin Shu felt every drop of blood within her own body freeze.
Five years.
More than eighteen hundred days and nights of imprisonment and humiliation.
Her father’s cold, heartless words.
Nanny Zhang’s tearful revelation of the truth.
Qin Yan’s venomous mockery and repeated schemes.
Xu Feng’s drunken intrusion and slander.
And now…
The whip marks carved into Floating Cloud’s back.
The beating that had nearly taken her life…
Simply because she had protected her.
The last illusion Qin Shu still held toward the Qin Family…
That faint fantasy of familial affection…
Was extinguished completely beneath Floating Cloud’s burning blood.
Not even ashes remained.
The final trace of hope she still held for Xu Feng…
Like a spark cast into a frozen sea…
Was utterly smothered by his cruelty and brutality.
It froze into dust.
Every grievance…
Every humiliation…
Every moment of endurance…
Every numb resignation…
Every resentment accumulated during these five years inside this prison…
All became the purest, fiercest fuel.
They ignited the seed of hatred that had long since taken root within her heart.
Hatred.
Hatred for the Qin Family’s heartlessness, for treating her as a disposable pawn and casting her into hell.
Hatred for Xu Feng’s brutality, for treating human lives as worthless while humiliating her without mercy.
Hatred for Qin Yan’s malice, for trampling her into the mud again and again, determined to destroy her completely.
The hatred surged like an erupting volcano.
With enough heat and power to destroy everything, it swept through every inch of her body, burning away the last traces of weakness and hesitation in her eyes.
Her dark brown pupils contracted sharply.
Her gaze became as sharp as a blade.
It shot straight toward the courtyard gate…
Toward the direction where Xu Feng and Qin Yan had disappeared.
There was no longer the slightest trace of timidity.
No endurance.
No humble pleading.
Only revenge remained.
“Mm…”
Floating Cloud let out another agonized, barely audible groan.
Her body convulsed violently.
Even more blood poured from her wounds.
The sound pierced Qin Shu’s heart like an ice spike coated in poison.
She lowered her head abruptly.
She looked at Floating Cloud’s deathly pale face.
At the hideous wounds across her back.
At the warm blood that continued flowing endlessly…
Heart-rending grief mixed with overwhelming hatred instantly swallowed her whole.
She no longer looked toward the gate.
She no longer looked at the filthy, frozen courtyard.
Her world now contained only the dying figure in her arms…
The girl who had shielded her with her own life.
Gathering every ounce of strength she possessed, Qin Shu pulled Floating Cloud closer into her embrace.
She straightened the spine that fate had bent for years.
Now, tempered by hatred, it had become rigid as steel.
Dragging Floating Cloud with tremendous effort, she slowly made her way toward the freezing, dilapidated room.
Each step landed upon the icy stone floor.
Each left behind a bloody footprint stained dark red.
Floating Cloud’s burning blood streamed down Qin Shu’s arm.
It dripped onto her own bloodstained gray-blue jacket.
It also dripped into the tightly clenched palm of her left hand.
That warm, sticky sensation became the cruelest brand, searing itself forever into her soul.
At last, they reached the room.
With utmost care, Qin Shu laid Floating Cloud face down upon the cold wooden bed.
Under the dim light, Floating Cloud’s back was fully exposed.
The deep whip wounds sprawled across her frail spine like grotesque centipedes.
Blood continued to seep slowly from them, staining the worn bedsheets beneath her.
Qin Shu stood beside the bed.
Her back was perfectly straight.
Like a spear drenched in blood.
Her lowered gaze remained fixed upon the hideous wounds covering Floating Cloud’s back.
“Xu Feng… Qin Yan…”
“I want you to repay this blood debt with blood.”
She slowly raised her left hand, still covered in Floating Cloud’s blood.
The thick crimson had begun to coagulate in her palm, yet it still retained the lingering warmth of life.
She stared at that blinding red.
Then at the burn wound and bruised finger marks that had yet to heal upon the back of her own pale hand.
With her burned hand, still wrapped in old cloth, Qin Shu reached toward the table.
Beside the tube of burn ointment Jiang Chen had left behind…
Resting quietly in an inconspicuous corner…
Lay a small, rusted pair of scissors she normally used for trimming lamp wicks.
She picked them up.
The cold, rusted metal pressed against her fingertips.
The tip reflected a tiny glint of icy light in the dim room.
She did not look at the scissors.
Her eyes remained locked upon the whip wounds that continued bleeding across Floating Cloud’s back.
The cold tip of the scissors gently touched a flap of torn flesh at the edge of one wound, where scraps of cloth remained embedded after being ripped apart by the whip.