No sooner had this thought crossed Lu Zhao’s mind than she dismissed it.
Consort Mei had instructed that the letter must be delivered to the emperor personally by Qiao Bing. Such an important item couldn’t possibly be sent back by mail.
If it hadn’t been mailed, then it must still be with the traveling party.
Over the next few days, Lu Zhao searched every possible hiding spot in their convoy but found no trace of the letter.
Could it still be on his person?
Not in his robes nor his sleeves—where else could it be?
The system suggested, [Host, he must undress when bathing. Why not sneak in and steal his clothes while he’s washing?]
Lu Zhao: “How can you be so shameless? Aren’t you afraid of getting a sty?”
The system wanted to curse: its good intentions were being treated as malicious—and all for whose sake?
As the group entered the inn, Qiao Bing went to the front desk to make arrangements. Lu Zhao’s gaze lingered on his retreating figure.
After finishing at the counter, Qiao Bing approached her with room tokens and said respectfully, “Your Highness, this is your room. Let A’Chi escort you upstairs first.”
Lu Zhao thanked him for his trouble, accepted the token, and made to ascend the stairs.
A waiter hurried down from upstairs carrying a basin of foot-washing water, calling out as he went, “Excuse me, honored guests, make way, make way!”
Qiao Chi shielded Lu Zhao as they stepped aside. The waiter rushed downstairs, but as he passed them, his foot caught on something inexplicably, sending the entire basin of water cascading directly over Qiao Bing’s head.
Qiao Bing was no weakling—under normal circumstances, he could have easily avoided such a splash. But positioned at the stairway entrance, blocked in front by the waiter, Lu Zhao, and others, and with guards and black-armored soldiers crowding behind him, he had no room to maneuver. He barely had time to raise his hands.
As a martial artist, he wore simple, close-fitting attire without even a thick cloak over it.
The water soaked through his clothes almost instantly, drenching him to the bone.
The waiter gasped in alarm, and the innkeeper hurried over to check on the situation. Qiao Chi immediately turned to ask, “Father, are you all right? Quick, go change out of those wet clothes before you catch a chill.”
On such a cold day, their breath misted in the air—how much colder must it feel to be drenched like that?
Yet, Qiao Bing’s first reaction wasn’t to shake off his clothes or frown, but to seize the moment the water reached his feet to yank off his boots, gripping the tops tightly.
Watching his movements, Lu Zhao smiled in understanding: So it was hidden in his boots?
Was there a hidden compartment inside?
She asked with concern, “Captain Qiao, are you all right?”
Qiao Bing shook his head. The innkeeper pushed through the crowd and rushed forward to apologize, “Honored guest, honored guest, my deepest apologies! The waiter is all thumbs. We’ll send a complimentary meal to your room later as compensation. Please be magnanimous and don’t hold it against him!”
After speaking, he reached out and slapped the waiter twice, gritting his teeth as he scolded, “How do you do your job? All thumbs! All thumbs!”
The waiter hunched his shoulders, not daring to dodge, his eyes darting back and forth over where he had just walked in confusion: How strange—the stairs were perfectly smooth, with nothing protruding.
“Enough!” Qiao Bing cut off the innkeeper. “Hurry and have someone prepare hot water.”
The innkeeper kicked the waiter again. “Didn’t you hear? Get going!”
The waiter acknowledged and scurried away.
Qiao Bing, holding his boots, said to Lu Zhao, “Your Highness, please go on upstairs.”
Lu Zhao nodded and followed Qiao Chi upstairs. During dinner, a commotion arose from downstairs. Just as Lu Zhao rose to investigate, Qiao Chi said, “Your Highness, please remain seated. Let me handle this.”
He stepped out briefly and soon returned with a frosty expression, radiating an aura that warned others to keep their distance.
Lu Zhao asked, “What happened?”
Qiao Chi replied, “There aren’t enough guest rooms. Only three remain—we’ve taken one, and the other two were allotted to the soldiers from Liangzhou. They’re dissatisfied and causing trouble.”
The Liangzhou Governor maintained strict military discipline; these men were putting on a show for their benefit. If the disturbance grew too large, they risked drawing attention from those pursuing the Seventh Prince.
Lu Zhao remarked, “Are they throwing a tantrum after enduring hard labor?”
Qiao Chi, stifling his anger, suddenly asked, “Can we eliminate the Liangzhou soldiers?”
Lu Zhao shook his head. “No.” They hadn’t yet exhausted their usefulness—killing them would be a waste.
Qiao Chi fell into a sullen silence. Lu Zhao pushed the bowl and chopsticks toward him, and he picked up the bowl, devouring his food with furious intensity, like a restrained large dog venting its frustration.
Qiao Chi brought over bedding to sleep on the floor. After arranging it, he glanced back and saw Lu Zhao practicing calligraphy again. “Your Highness, are you copying Consort Mei’s script again?” he asked.
Lu Zhao shook her head and answered offhandedly, “I’m transcribing Buddhist sutras.”
Qiao Chi was astonished. “Sutras? Why is Your Highness copying sutras?”
Lu Zhao explained, “To offer them at Huangjue Temple alongside my mother’s soul-guiding lantern.” And to buy time until you fall asleep.
Qiao Chi stared at her pale hands and the decisive, sharp strokes of her characters, lost in thought: He had assumed the Seventh Prince’s handwriting would be as elegant and refined as Consort Mei’s, but it was unexpectedly fierce and imposing.
It didn’t seem to match the Seventh Prince’s demeanor.
He advised, “The winter nights are cold, Your Highness. You should retire early.” As he spoke, he stepped forward to prepare her bedding.
Without looking up, Lu Zhao said, “You go ahead. I’ll wait a while longer.”
He remained silent, but after a moment, he removed the inkstone from her desk.
Lu Zhao lifted her head to see Qiao Chi gazing at her stubbornly, clearly resolved to stand there until she went to bed.
After a brief standoff, Lu Zhao set down her brush, stood up, and walked to the bed. She removed her outer robe, slipped under the covers, and closed her eyes to sleep.
Qiao Chi stood by her bedside for a moment, then whispered very softly, “Your Highness must return safely to Zhongdu.”
Lu Zhao opened her eyes to look at him. “Why do you say that so suddenly?”
Qiao Chi shifted uncomfortably for a second, shaking his head in embarrassment. “It’s nothing. Sleep now—rest is nourishing.”
Lu Zhao was speechless: So he’s afraid I’ll drop dead from staying up late.
It seems the Qiao family truly needs this imperial heir.
They lay down several yards apart. Lu Zhao closed her eyes, her hands folded over her chest. A faint, nearly scentless medicinal fragrance drifted from her sleeves, spreading through the room within moments.
Qiao Chi blinked a few times, then suddenly felt overwhelmingly drowsy. He turned over and fell into a deep sleep.
Once he was soundly asleep, close to the hour of the Ox, when all was silent, Lu Zhao sat up. She changed into night attire, leaped out the window, and pressed herself against the adjacent guest room, listening carefully. Hearing no movement, she slipped in through another window.
The room was dim, illuminated only by lantern light filtering from the corridor, revealing over a dozen guards sprawled haphazardly on the floor.
They hadn’t even removed their clothes—just kicked off their shoes, pulled blankets over themselves, and lay on the wooden planks.
Lu Zhao swept a glance around the room. Over a dozen identical pairs of shoes were scattered haphazardly on the floor, making them difficult to distinguish.
Spotting Qiao Bing sleeping furthest inside, she silently approached and began inspecting the shoes starting from his side. After checking three pairs without finding anything unusual, she reached for the fourth pair when a cold voice came from behind her: “What are you looking for?”
It was Qiao Bing’s voice.
Without even turning her head, Lu Zhao immediately turned and fled.
A palm strike grazed the back of her neck. She countered by grabbing the attacker’s hand and forcefully throwing him, slamming him directly onto the floor.
With a loud thud, all the sleeping men jolted awake, confused about what was happening. Lu Zhao delivered a kick that sent Qiao Bing crashing into them, then leaped out through the window.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Qiao Bing climbed to his feet and chased after her through the same window. The remaining dozen or so guards, not even having time to put on their shoes, rushed out through both the window and the door in separate groups.
The dozen men pursued Lu Zhao’s figure as she ran along the second floor, then watched as she jumped into the guest room occupied by the Liangzhou soldiers.
Halfway through the chase, Qiao Bing seemed to remember something. He called to the men behind him: “You go check with the Black Flag Guards. I’ll check on His Highness.” With that, he turned and ran back, arriving at Lu Zhao’s guest room and pushing the door open without hesitation.
The room was pitch black. He took out a fire starter and lit it, his eyes immediately going to the bed.
The bed curtains weren’t drawn. In the thick quilts lay a person sleeping soundly – fair complexion, eyes tightly closed, breathing even and deep.
Looking further, he saw Qiao Chi also sleeping peacefully not far from the bed.
However, the window near the corridor remained open, cold wind whistling through it.
Qiao Bing stepped forward and slapped Qiao Chi’s face hard several times, frowning as he called: “Wake up! Wake up!”
Qiao Chi forced his eyes open and mumbled: “Father, what’s wrong?”
Qiao Bing said angrily: “What’s wrong? How can you sleep so deeply again?” Just like that night in Fancheng before.
“Just now a thief broke into our room trying to steal the letter left by Consort Mei.”
Qiao Chi was instantly awake. He looked toward the bed and breathed a genuine sigh of relief when he saw Lu Zhao lying there undisturbed. Then he sensed something amiss, quickly dressed and got up, walking to the bedside and calling out twice.
Lu Zhao showed no reaction whatsoever. Alarmed, he quickly checked her breathing. Only when he confirmed she was still breathing did his frantically beating heart calm down.
“His Highness seems to have been drugged.”
Qiao Bing’s expression turned cold and grim: “I can see that. So the one trying to steal the letter wasn’t His Highness.”
He must have been bewitched before, suspecting His Highness repeatedly like that.
Someone who could repel him with a single palm strike couldn’t possibly be as frail as the Seventh Prince.
Soon, the Qiao family guards hurried over. Closing the door behind them, they whispered: “When we arrived, the Liangzhou soldiers were all awake. They hadn’t even lit lamps and were huddled together whispering – seemed to be discussing something important. When we entered, they immediately scattered and pretended to be asleep.”
Qiao Chi frowned: “Father, the thief from earlier must have been one of their people. Xie Xian has wolfish ambitions – having his soldiers follow us can’t be just for escort duty. There must be some scheme.”
A guard suggested: “Whatever scheme they have, why don’t we strike first and finish them off!”
Lu Zhao, lying in bed pretending to be unconscious, twitched her lips: This Qiao Chi kid has quite the imagination.
On the other side, the Black Flag Guards in the house were quite frustrated. They were almost out of Jingzhou, yet their Xie Zhoumu still hadn’t sent a letter.
Could it be that the Qiao family had pulled some tricks?
They gathered and discussed for a long time, completely unaware that they had once again been splendidly made scapegoats.
Author’s Note: