Looking at the person who had left only to return, Jiang Fanyin’s expression had already returned to normal. “Are you feeling better?”
She was referring to the “episode.”
Song Boxue stood by the door, watching her in silence.
The thoughts she hadn’t quite untangled earlier swirled in her mind again. She had never been one to dawdle or hesitate, yet at this moment, she felt herself faltering like a coward.
Seeing her silence, Jiang Fanyin asked with lingering concern, “Are you still uncomfortable?”
As she spoke, she unconsciously touched her neck. The pain was still there; the bite this time had been noticeably heavier than the last.
Song Boxue’s gaze followed her movement, landing on the faint, mottled marks. “Sister Jiang, if you were forced apart from the person you loved due to a misunderstanding, and had to struggle for half a lifetime just to be together, would you wish you had chosen someone else to love from the very beginning?”
Like right now, before you ever meet the male lead, choosing to be with me.
Jiang Fanyin looked puzzled at first, then fixed her with a deep, searching look. “If one truly loves someone, how could they simply ‘change’ to another?”
Song Boxue was left speechless. Right. How could they?
“Let us set out tomorrow.”
Seeing Song Boxue’s expression turn cold, Jiang Fanyin felt a sudden, inexplicable flutter of unease. Her lips parted as if to speak, but in the end, she asked nothing.
The next morning, news spread that the County Magistrate had been injured in an assassination attempt. Advisor Zhou arrived early to check on the situation.
“Sir, what should be done with those assassins?”
He scrutinized Song Boxue, who was reclining on the bed. Her face was deathly pale, looking as though she were gravely wounded.
Yesterday, this “straw bag” had seemed perfectly fine while walking; why the sudden turn for the worse? Furthermore, the men in the dungeon had woken up in a daze, acting as if they were senile and unable to remember how they had lost consciousness.
Something smelled fishy.
Song Boxue coughed into a handkerchief. The white fabric was instantly stained crimson.
This chicken blood, smells way too metallic.
Song Boxue’s face soured, and she began to dry heave—this was a purely subconscious reaction, but it added a layer of realism that couldn’t be faked.
“Advisor Zhou, my child needs absolute quiet to recover. Do not speak of official business for a few days,” Madam Song said with a face full of displeasure. Her protective “mother hen” act managed to dispel some of Zhou’s suspicion.
Song Boxue waved a weak hand. “I am fine. Keep the assassins locked up for now. In a few days, I will interrogate them personally.”
Advisor Zhou breathed a sigh of relief. “Then please rest well, Sir. I shall look after the affairs of the yamen.”
“I am in your debt, Advisor. Please also look after Commander Jiang; once I am feeling better, I shall host him personally. Cough, cough.”
After just a few sentences, she fell into another coughing fit.
Madam Song immediately shooed Advisor Zhou out. “Even if the sky falls, it won’t interrupt my child’s recovery! If you dare come back again, Advisor, I don’t care who you are—I’ll beat you out myself!”
She punctuated this with a fierce glare.
Ignorant shrew, Advisor Zhou thought. His expression stiffened for a second before he suppressed his annoyance, bowed, and took his leave.
Once the door was shut, Madam Song said proudly, “How was my acting? I’d say Advisor Zhou bought it.”
Song Boxue, who was currently rinsing her mouth, gave her a thumbs up. Her acting was indeed top-tier.
Madam Song tilted her head high. She might not be good at much, but when it came to bluffing, she had never lost. “Now tell me, what’s the point of this little show?”
“I suspect those assassins have more tricks up their sleeves, and the people in the yamen can’t be trusted. It’s better to slip away to the prefecture to bring in reinforcements, or we might get caught in a trap one day.”
Song Boxue kept her explanation vague.
Madam Song nodded in agreement. “You’re right. Get the prefecture to send more troops to protect you. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have let you be this wretched Magistrate.”
Song Boxue nodded and didn’t elaborate further. “Mother, you must guard this door. Don’t let anyone in. If word leaks out, my journey won’t be safe.”
“Don’t you worry. From now on, I’m living in this room. No one gets past me.”
Song Boxue nodded. She had no one else to rely on; she could only hope Madam Song would stay focused.
“Mother, I’ll need to stay at inns and buy food. Give me some silver for the road.” She didn’t want to rely on the female lead for everything. Financial debts eventually turned into emotional debts, and she wanted to keep those to a minimum.
Madam Song rolled her eyes. “You heartless little thing, always eyeing my silver. Isn’t Fanyin going with you? Just use hers.”
Despite her grumbling, knowing the road was long and full of expenses, she dug out a few small pieces of broken silver.
“Mother, this is only a few taels. How is this enough?” Song Boxue looked at the three taels of silver Madam Song had stingily produced, feeling helpless. This “mother” and the original owner were truly cut from the same cloth when it came to money.
Madam Song huffed and tucked her purse away. “That’s all you’re getting. Go ask your wife if you want more. In the past, the two of us could make one tael last two months. This is plenty.”
Song Boxue knew she wouldn’t get another cent. She took the silver, changed her clothes, and slipped out of the city in disguise.
Outside the city, Jiang Fanyin was waiting with a horse.
Seeing only one mount, Song Boxue asked, “Why just one? Are you not going, Sister Jiang?”
Please don’t stay behind. Dealing with people in this era was too much trouble; if she got delayed, things could go south. The female lead had the uncanny ability to turn bad luck into good—having Jiang Fanyin along was like having a life insurance policy.
Jiang Fanyin’s expression was neutral. “I do not know how to ride. This is a double saddle.”
So, they would be sharing a horse.
Song Boxue stared at her for a second, then broke into a grin. “Fine. You sit in front; you get on first.”
Since the female lead didn’t mind, what was there for her to worry about? By unspoken agreement, neither mentioned what had happened the previous day.
Jiang Fanyin gripped the reins and climbed onto the horse. Her movements were a bit strained, yet she showed no intention of asking for help.
Song Boxue knit her brows and supported her waist as she climbed up, then vaulted onto the horse in one fluid motion. They were both seated almost instantly.
She took the reins, leaning down to whisper in Jiang Fanyin’s ear, “Hold on tight. Jia!”
Jiang Fanyin’s body was jerked backward by the momentum. She wanted to grab the reins but feared pulling the horse’s mouth, so her hands clamped onto Song Boxue’s arms instead. Her back pressed firmly into the embrace of the person behind her.
She stiffened, trying to sit upright, but Song Boxue’s voice rang in her ear over the whistling wind: “Don’t move around. Just give me the directions.”
Jiang Fanyin’s fingers tightened as she slowly leaned back, resting against Song Boxue.
They rode hard for half a day, crossing the borders of Pingchuan County. By dusk, they reached a small town, dismounted, and began looking for a place to stay.
However, the town was so small it didn’t even have an inn—only a few small eateries lined the street.
“Let’s get something to eat first.” Song Boxue led the horse to a stop outside one of the small diners.
Seeing them with a horse, the proprietor asked warmly, “It’s getting late. Do you guests want to stay the night before continuing? In this cold, sleeping outside is rough on the body.”
The man’s eyes were sharp and calculating as he looked them over. Two refined young gentlemen, each more handsome than the last, dressed like sons of wealthy families—this was a chance for a tidy profit.
Song Boxue didn’t miss the look in his eyes. She followed his lead. “Does the proprietor have a spare room?”
Seeing her respond, the proprietor knew business had arrived. He quickly added, “There are no proper inns in this town, but as it happens, I have a spare guest room at my house. If you two don’t mind, you can put up there for the night, though the room charge would be separate.”
He rubbed his fingers together significantly. The meaning was clear: staying for free was out of the question; it would cost silver.
The small eatery had no menu; a few home-cooked dishes were scrawled haphazardly on the wall, priced at a dozen or so copper coins each.
Song Boxue did a quick mental calculation. One tael of silver was worth a thousand copper coins, so the prices weren’t high. Not one to dawdle, she spoke up: “One meat dish, one vegetable dish, and a soup. Including the room, please let me know the total.”
The proprietor beamed. “Since you’re such a straightforward guest, let’s call it this much.”
He held up five fingers. “Five hundred coins.”
That was half a tael—most of which was clearly for the room. Song Boxue nodded and produced a small piece of broken silver.
After dinner, they were led to the so-called guest room. Song Boxue fell silent the moment she stepped inside.
The room looked tidy enough, but there was only one bed and it was exceptionally small. There was only a single cotton quilt, clearly meant for one person.
It looked cramped.
The proprietor didn’t seem to think anything was amiss; travelers were expected to make do. “Wait a moment, you two. I’ll go boil some hot water for you.”
Once the water was brought in, the proprietor added that there was no bathing area; they would have to manage with a quick sponge down in the room.
Song Boxue paused. “Sister Jiang, you go ahead and freshen up first. I’ll go see if the host has an extra set of bedding.”