Xie Qi’s taut body relaxed slightly.
Ever since Lu Yuan had entered, he had been wondering why this Miss Jiang would risk having her reputation destroyed to help him, a complete stranger.
So she had a favor to ask. That made sense.
“Miss Jiang, please speak frankly. If it’s within my power, I will do my utmost.”
“I knew from the moment you entered that your martial arts were formidable,” Jiang Zhi said without revealing his identity, pouring him a cup of hot tea. “I want you to find an opportunity to kill Yan Wenkang, the second son of the Zhongqin Bojue Mansion.”
Xie Qi nearly choked on the tea he had just swallowed. “What did you say?”
“Is it too difficult?” Jiang Zhi smiled faintly. “The Zhongqin Bojue Mansion is of noble birth, hardly ordinary. It’s understandable that you’d find it troublesome.”
Xie Qi couldn’t help but ask, “What grudge does Miss Jiang hold against this Yan Wenkang, that it must come to taking his life?”
“Yan Wenkang wishes to marry me, but everyone in Jingdu knows that he is an unlearned, lustful gambler with a harem of concubines. I don’t want to marry him, but the matriarch of my household won’t allow otherwise. This is my only recourse.”
At this time in her previous life, Yan Wenkang had already asked the Jiang family for her hand.
Her stepmother wanted to use her to curry favor with the Zhongqin Bojue Mansion, but she also feared the old matriarch and worried about gaining a reputation for mistreating the eldest daughter, so she kept delaying without daring to agree.
It wasn’t until the incident with Xie Qi that her stepmother, in order to secure the marriage for her own biological daughter, schemed to slip her a drug at a banquet and personally led people to catch Yan Wenkang and her in a compromising position, completely ruining her reputation.
“This…”
Hearing this, Xie Qi didn’t immediately agree.
Killing Yan Wenkang would be simple.
Though he had long been away from Jingdu, he had heard of Yan Wenkang’s reputation. And what he knew was even more than what this Miss Jiang knew.
He had heard that Yan Wenkang had injured himself while fooling around with his concubines and could no longer sire heirs. The countess doted on her youngest son and had kept the matter completely under wraps.
But if Yan Wenkang were to die by his hand, the Zhongqin Bojue Mansion would not let the matter rest, and it would create enmity with the Wuyi Hou Mansion—something he was unwilling to see.
Jiang Zhi watched Xie Qi hesitate and laughed inwardly. She hadn’t expected Xie Qi to agree anyway. “Forget it. I’ve put you in a difficult position. Pretend I never mentioned it.”
Xie Qi’s brows furrowed tightly.
He had always been clear in his debts of gratitude and grudges. Today, Miss Jiang had disregarded even her own chastity to help him, and she had been injured in the process.
And what she had helped wasn’t just his life alone.
He had been ordered to lead troops at the frontier when a letter from Jingdu arrived saying his mother was gravely ill and near death, so he had rushed back from a thousand li away.
Having heard that the abbot of Puzhao Temple possessed a remedy for illnesses, he had gone up the mountain in the dead of night to seek it.
Unexpectedly, he had run into Lu Yuan at Puzhao Temple and was mistaken for an assassin and captured.
Lu Yuan was the emperor’s eyes and ears. If he learned that Xie Qi had returned to the capital without permission and without an imperial edict, the entire Wuyi Hou Mansion would likely be implicated.
Therefore, he absolutely had to repay this debt of gratitude to Jiang Zhi.
Didn’t she simply not want to marry Yan Wenkang? He had plenty of ways to handle it.
“Please wait a while, Miss Jiang. I still have important matters to attend to, but once they are concluded, I will personally settle this matter for you.”
Xie Qi took out a jade pendant from his bosom and solemnly placed it in Jiang Zhi’s hands. “This pendant is my vow. I, Xie Qi, will not fail your trust.”
Jiang Zhi reached out and took it. It was a white jade pendant carved with a chi dragon, warm to the touch, with a fine and translucent texture—clearly no ordinary item.
In her previous life, Xie Qi had come to propose marriage using this very jade pendant as a token, and it had ultimately fallen into the hands of her stepsister, Jiang Yunqian.
At the thought, Jiang Zhi found the pendant utterly displeasing to the eye. Yet she could hardly show her distaste in front of Xie Qi, so she casually tucked it into her dressing case.
But she accidentally pulled at the wound on her neck and could not help but let out a soft hiss.
“Allow me to apply some medicine to Miss Jiang’s wound,” Xie Qi said, taking the golden wound salve and stepping forward. “If we delay, I fear it may truly leave a scar.”
Jiang Zhi did not refuse. She sat on the low stool, turned her face aside, and tilted her head up, revealing a slender stretch of fair, delicate neck.
Lu Yuan had stopped her in time, so her wound was not deep—the jade hairpin had slashed diagonally across her neck, leaving a trail of blood.
“Rest assured, I spent considerable time in the military and am quite adept at handling minor wounds like this.” Xie Qi did not know whether he was reassuring Jiang Zhi or himself.
Though born into a marquis household, he was accustomed to life among the troops, surrounded by rough, burly men. When had he ever applied medicine to a young lady of the inner chambers?
The length of elegant neck before him gave him the illusion that a mere hint of force could easily snap it.
He could only melt the medicine on his fingertip and apply it slowly with a careful, restrained touch.
Yet his thoughts could not help but drift back to the moment he had been submerged in the bath barrel.
In an emergency, one acts as circumstances demand—at the time, he had not thought much of it. But now, recalling that scene, he felt profoundly ill at ease.
To make the ruse convincing, she had shed her clothing before entering the water, wrapping herself in only a cloth.
To avoid any impropriety, Xie Qi had not even opened his eyes.
But even so, the faint, clean fragrance unique to a young maiden, the sound of dripping water, and the warm, soft form accidentally brushed against in the cramped bath barrel all made his Adam’s apple bob involuntarily.
She had sacrificed far too much for him.
Xie Qi suppressed the wanton thoughts in his mind. His face betrayed nothing, yet his ears had unknowingly turned crimson.
To Jiang Zhi’s eyes, it was simply amusing.
Was this not the spirited, proud, and dazzling young general Xie Qi? And yet he blushed this easily?
When the medicine was finally applied, Xie Qi let out a relieved breath.
This was far more difficult than leading troops into battle.
So much time had been delayed, and with dawn approaching, it was time for him to take his leave.
The next morning, when Old Madame Jiang awoke and heard of the previous night’s events, she summoned Jiang Zhi for questioning.
“Grandmother, Lord Lu merely conducted a routine search with his men and did not trouble your granddaughter,” Jiang Zhi reported, omitting what was unimportant. “I only heard that they were pursuing an assassin. As for who exactly it was, your granddaughter has no way of knowing.”
Old Madame Jiang was past fifty, her white hair coiled into a neat round bun at the nape of her neck. Her frame was thin but she sat ramrod straight.
In her previous life, though she had saved Xie Qi, she had also suffered a shock from the commotion, leaving her heart palpitating with unease. After returning to the manor, she fell ill and, confined to her sickbed, passed away within two years.
Nanny Ji, who attended the old lady, patted her chest in relief. “Thankfully, yesterday evening the eldest young lady served the old lady her Spirit-Calming Incense and got her to bed early. Otherwise, had she been startled by the Jinyiwei, the old lady’s heart palpitations would likely have flared up again.”
Old Madame Jiang nodded in agreement. “Lu Yuan is a man of deep schemes, and he enjoys the emperor’s great trust—he must not be offended. But if he oversteps his bounds, you need only tell me. Our Jiang manor is not one to be bullied.”
Her temperament was stern and rigid, and she seldom smiled.
In her previous life, Jiang Zhi had feared her. Apart from the daily greetings, she rarely dared set foot in her grandmother’s courtyard.
Now that Jiang Zhi had already died once, there was nothing left to fear.
At least compared to her stepmother’s duplicity, her grandmother was straightforward and would never do anything to harm others in secret.
“I understand, Grandmother,” she replied in a low voice. After a moment’s thought, she added, “Granddaughter has a request to ask of Grandmother.”