“This way!” The little uncle gave a low cry, sweeping up his wide water sleeves to shield Sui Sui, dragging her behind the curtain to hide. His words had barely fallen when two masked men, as if descending from the heavens, burst through the east gate, cutting down two guards and charging straight toward the stage.
No one had expected assassins to strike from two directions at once, and chaos broke out. Li Chongjun and the governor’s son had only come out seeking amusement, bringing few attendants. Worse still, the governor’s son, though always boasting of his martial training, proved utterly useless. One assassin kicked up a chair and swung it at him, knocking him flat to the ground. He cried out in pain, coughing up blood. His guards rushed to save him, but one assassin seized the chance, cutting down another of Li Chongjun’s men. With a swift strike, the blade plunged into Li Chongjun’s back.
“Your Highness!” Sui Sui screamed, but it was too late. She watched helplessly as the dagger pierced through Li Chongjun’s chest, its sharp tip gleaming with cold moonlight, dazzling her eyes.
The little uncle heard her shrill cry and pulled her tighter, but Sui Sui broke free, leaping from the stage to run toward Li Chongjun.
Later, whenever Sui Sui recalled this moment, she could always find a hundred excuses. For instance, most of her jewelry had not yet been taken out; if Li Chongjun died, it would surely fall into the steward’s hands. And if it ended up with Madam Xia, Sui Sui would suffer terribly.
But in that instant, none of these thoughts crossed her mind. She saw Li Chongjun collapse, saw the crimson blood gush forth, spilling under the moonlight. It was just like many years ago, on another cold moonlit night, when Gaojuli’s iron cavalry thundered in, drowning her village in blood. First her grandfather, then her mother, then her elder sister— All the people most important to her had died, one by one.
Li Chongjun had never valued her, and she had long wished to leave him. Yet in that moment, she had to admit: to her, he was still someone important. She could not stand by, indifferent, and watch him die.
The two assassins had indeed come for Li Chongjun. Seeing him struck down, they no longer lingered, turning to flee—only to find Sui Sui rushing at them head-on, blade in hand.
The knife she held had been taken from the banquet table—it was meant for peeling apples, small and delicate. The assassin quickly leapt back, then turned his blade against her.
Before Sui Sui could cry out, a harsh, commanding shout rang out, “Stop!—”
It was Li Chongjun. He seemed to summon every ounce of strength left in him. Two attendants were trying to lay him flat on the couch, but he twisted violently instead. Sui Sui saw his face flushed crimson, veins bulging, and blood spattered across his cheeks. He was still coughing blood, a gurgling sound rising from his throat.
Sui Sui had never seen him so terrifying. Even when he was stabbed, he had not looked so ferocious. Her heart jolted, seized by a strange feeling that, for an instant, outweighed her fear.
Li Chongjun collapsed into a pool of blood.
The assassin managed to wound Sui Sui as well. Fortunately, it was only a slash across her arm. He then kicked her down, joined his companion, and together they escaped through the window into the night.
Sui Sui lay on the ground, wracked with pain. No one spared her a glance. Aside from two attendants chasing the assassins, everyone crowded around Li Chongjun. The governor’s son, likely with broken bones, still lay on the floor, eyes wide with terror, unable to close them. The ground was slick and sticky with blood—so much that no one could tell whose it was.
At last, the little uncle lifted her up.
Seeing him was like seeing a savior. Yet her head was spinning, her chest weighed down by a heavy stone, and she could barely speak: “The Ninth Prince, he… he… can he—”
Can he survive?
With wounds like these, the little uncle was no physician; asking him was useless. But Sui Sui felt he knew so much, like a Daoist immortal who could judge life and death. She raised her eyes to him, only to see him tearing off his sleeve to bandage her, while his gaze lingered on the unconscious Li Chongjun. Then, he frowned slightly.
That look held doubt, contemplation—things Sui Sui could not understand.
The night’s events had come too suddenly, like a wild horse charging headlong into her, trampling her again and again. She was left dizzy, terrified to the extreme, and in the end, only numb. She wasn’t even sure if she ought to cry.
Amid the chaos, someone summoned a physician.
Soon, government officers arrived on horseback, surrounding the Wangchun Garden and driving away all the revelers from the street.
Not long after, the censor came, the inspector came, and the governor himself arrived. The governor not only rushed over, but brought his entire household, even his wife.
The governor’s wife, upon seeing her son, burst into tears, clutching him and crying out. The governor, however, ignored his son, kneeling with the other officials to pay respects before urgently questioning the physician and interrogating those present.
By then, Sui Sui had been pulled into the study at the back by the little uncle. Someone brought water, and she bent over a bronze basin to wash her face, beside an open lattice window.
Below, people bustled in and out, chaos everywhere.
She had never imagined that the small Prince Wei’s residence could stir so many officials. She had never seen them before.
Li Chongjun, when he drank and feasted, never summoned such people. One after another, they wore solemn robes, dark green or pale green, dragging through the blood-soaked floor, turning black and heavy, as grim as their expressions.
And no wonder.
A farewell banquet had inexplicably turned into a massacre, in the midst of a festival crowd. Though Liangzhou was known for its fierce customs, such a tragedy was rare. Moreover, Li Chongjun was the nominal master of Liangzhou, soon to return to Chang’an for his marriage. For disaster to strike at such a moment—two crimes compounded—was enough to bring ruin upon them all.