“Bong—”
Another bell toll echoed from Lingyin Si. Shang Qingyan rotated the blood-stained prayer beads in his hand, his pale face covered with a frosty chill. “Amitabha, sin, sin.”
Yu Ange sheathed her sword. “Chanting sutras only after killing someone—doesn’t Your Highness think it’s a bit late?”
The rain blurred Shang Qingyan’s vision, but Yu Ange’s blood-splattered smiling face was exceptionally clear. “Lay down the butcher’s knife, and one can become a Buddha on the spot.”
Yu Ange keenly heard footsteps approaching from nearby and once again grabbed Shang Qingyan. “The Buddha will forgive you! Hurry, let’s go!”
Yu Ange’s horse had tripped over its reins, likely injuring its leg, and could not stand up no matter what. The two had no choice but to ride the same horse.
But just as the horse reached the foot of the mountain, another wave of assailants appeared to block their way. A surge of anger rose in Yu Ange’s heart—why were there so many assassins!
Shang Qingyan’s eyes darkened as he forcefully whipped the horse’s flank. Yu Ange cooperated with him, fighting their way through the layers of encirclement until they finally broke free from the wave of assassins.
In the deep night, arrows whistled like shooting stars. Held tightly in Shang Qingyan’s embrace, Yu Ange felt a sense of fleeing for their lives across the world.
The sound of arrows cutting through the air came from behind once more, followed by Shang Qingyan’s muffled groan.
Yu Ange quickly asked, “Are you injured?”
Shang Qingyan only tightened his grip on the horse’s belly and gritted his teeth. “It’s nothing.”
Though he said it was nothing, the veins on his hands gripping the reins bulged, and his entire body leaned closer against Yu Ange’s back.
To prevent falling off the horse, his arms even wrapped around Yu Ange’s waist.
Yu Ange had never been this intimate with a man before. Her body instantly tensed as she tried her best to divert her attention. “Who exactly is it, deploying so many people to hunt Your Highness down to the last?”
Shang Qingyan scoffed, using her own words against her. “Young Master Yu, pretending ignorance now—doesn’t it feel a bit late?”
Yu Ange felt somewhat embarrassed. Both of them had already revealed their true intentions, so there was indeed no need to pretend.
Seeing her remain silent, Shang Qingyan leaned close to her ear and asked, “However, I am curious—how did Young Master Yu know there were assassins at Lingyin Si?”
His tone was lazy and hoarse, carrying a hint of danger. His warm breath brushed against her ear, making Yu Ange uncomfortable. “Now that Your Highness’s fox tail is exposed, must you drag others’ tails out as well?”
Shang Qingyan clicked his tongue. “It was you who exposed my tail. I want to see how long yours can remain hidden.”
He harbored hidden anger. Only after the fight did he realize that Zhu Ying, who should have caught up, had not appeared—likely lured away by Yu Ange’s attendants, Yushu and Yanbo.
And that perilous fall from the horse was clearly Yu Ange deliberately forcing him to reveal his true strength.
Who would have thought that Young Master Yu, who seemed naive as a child, would grow up to be so troublesome—even more so than his sister.
By dawn, the two finally managed to shake off their pursuers.
After dismounting, Yu Ange saw an arrow embedded in Shang Qingyan’s shoulder. Having been drenched in rain for so long, he now truly looked sickly.
Supporting Shang Qingyan, they arrived at an inn—a property of the Yu family. The innkeeper had received Yu Ange’s letter the day before, instructing him to provide assistance. Without asking any questions, he quietly arranged a room for Yu Ange and Shang Qingyan.
Having lost too much blood, Shang Qingyan’s originally fair complexion was now as pale as paper. Leaning against the bed, he appeared genuinely weak without needing to act.
Yu Ange felt his forehead; he was slightly feverish. She instructed the innkeeper, “Bring a bottle of high-quality Jinchuang Yao, scissors, strong liquor, fine cloth, two sets of clothes, and shoes and socks.”
Shang Qingyan was burning with fever and aching all over, yet he struggled to stay conscious. Even after the innkeeper left, he managed to mock Yu Ange, “Young Master Yu is quite well-prepared.”
Yu Ange replied, “This was originally prepared for myself. Who could have guessed His Highness was hiding such depths?”
Shang Qingyan glanced at the wound on Yu Ange’s arm. It wasn’t deep and had been hastily bandaged along the way, but blood had already seeped through.
After a night of fleeing for their lives, her complexion was also far from ideal.
Once the innkeeper brought everything, Yu Ange first bandaged her own wound, then walked over to Shang Qingyan and said, “Take off your clothes.”
In her previous life, Yu Ange had faced life-and-death situations on the battlefield under harsh conditions. When military medics were overwhelmed, she had tended to her comrades’ wounds, so saying this came naturally to her.
Shang Qingyan, however, didn’t react. He had always been fastidious; even his servants were rarely allowed close. Although the person before him was a “man,” they weren’t familiar, so he felt somewhat uneasy.
Seeing him unmoving, Yu Ange remembered his fastidiousness and looked down at herself. After a night of fleeing, she was naturally covered in grime.
Yu Ange laughed in exasperation, “Your Highness isn’t any cleaner than I am. Injured and feverish, yet you still have the mind to dislike me?”
Shang Qingyan’s head throbbed painfully. “That’s not exactly the reason…”
But he couldn’t articulate the exact reason, only feeling somewhat awkward.
Shang Qingyan sighed heavily. “Then I’ll trouble Young Master Yu.” As he spoke, he turned around.
Yu Ange first used scissors to cut away the fabric around the wound, then pulled off half of his upper garment.
His skin was fair, his muscles taut, far more robust than he appeared.
Yu Ange gripped the arrow shaft, gathering strength in her hand, just about to pull it out when a waiter’s voice came from outside, “Guest, this way, please!”
“Please have some hot water prepared and bring good wine and dishes.” A familiar voice rang out, causing Yu Ange to pause.
Shang Qingyan had always had an excellent memory and recognized it now.
It was none other than Cen Jiashu, who had failed to break off the engagement and was now slinking back to the capital, accompanied by a servant.
After a series of hurried footsteps, Cen Jiashu and his servant settled into the adjacent room.
Shang Qingyan noticed Yu Ange’s expression growing increasingly gloomy and couldn’t help but feel curious.
Logically, a Tanhua with such a promising future barely met the Yu family’s standards. So why did Yu Anhe, this elder brother-in-law, wear such an expression, as if he wanted to skin Cen Jiashu alive?
The inn’s soundproofing was poor, and both Shang Qingyan and Yu Ange were trained in martial arts, so they could faintly hear the conversation between the master and servant.
The servant complained, “It’s all Miss Yu’s fault. If she hadn’t been so clingy, we wouldn’t have had to rush our journey like this.”
Cen Jiashu frowned. “Don’t speak nonsense.”
Cen Jiashu’s mind was in turmoil, alternating between thoughts of Yu Ange and Song Jin’er.
Yet what worried him most was his grandfather. If his grandfather received Yu Ange’s letter, given his temperament, he would likely dislike Cen Jiashu even more and would never allow Song Jin’er into the family.
So he had to return to the capital before the messenger, to think of a way to resolve this.
The servant had been by Cen Jiashu’s side all along, having interacted with both Song Jin’er and Yu Ange. Compared to the noble-born Yu Ange, Song Jin’er—the illegitimate daughter of the Vice Minister’s household—was much easier to manipulate.
The servant rolled his eyes and said, “Miss Yu is unreasonable and domineering. How could she compare to Miss Song’s gentle and considerate nature?”
Shang Qingyan frowned slightly, recalling the scene from his childhood when Yu Ange had knocked his tooth out. It was true that she was unreasonable, but to compare that pretentious illegitimate daughter of the Song family to Yu Ange was truly blind and ignorant.
Cen Jiashu let his inner frustration show on his face. “Enough talk. We need to think of a way now—either intercept that letter or find a way to appease my grandfather.”
The servant’s eyes shifted again. “I do have an idea, but I’m not sure if I should mention it.”
Cen Jiashu said, “Speak.”