Jiang Zhuo’s carriage had barely left the Marquis of Wuwei’s estate when two horses flanked it on either side.
In the capital, it wasn’t unusual for idle young nobles to gallop wildly through the streets at night.
At first, Jiang Zhuo thought they were just drunken youths racing horses and instructed the driver to yield to them.
But soon she noticed—when her carriage slowed, they slowed; when she sped up, they sped up.
They were targeting her.
Jiang Zhuo’s heart tightened.
“Music Officer, what should we do?”
The elderly driver—past fifty—seemed equally unprepared for such a situation.
“Oh? A Music Officer? And a woman? Looks like Young Master guessed wrong!”
The servants, already exhilarated from galloping behind their master, grew bold.
“So what? She’s just a common girl. I’ll take her first—then later my father can request an imperial decree to marry her!”
Seeing Jiang Zhuo’s face at the window, Qian Yunyi’s desire flared even stronger.
“You hear that, beauty? Our Young Master plans to make you his legal wife.”
“Do you know who our Young Master is? This is your great fortune!”
The jolting carriage shook so violently that Jiang Zhuo could barely keep her balance.
No time to answer their taunts—she focused entirely on assessing the danger.
Two on her right, one on her left, three behind—six young men in total.
With only herself and the aged driver, direct confrontation was impossible.
“Don’t stop! Head for the wider streets—where there are more people!”
But after several turns, Jiang Zhuo realized the riders deliberately blocked every wider path, herding them into narrower lanes.
“Help! Help—!”
Her desperate cries echoed down the night streets of the capital, but only drew louder laughter from the pursuers.
“Hahahaha! Save your strength—you’ll need it later!”
“Girl, give in to Young Master and you’ll suffer less!”
The driver, rattled by the chaos, slowed for just a moment—
And the carriage lurched to a stop.
Surrounded on all sides by five horses, the carriage horse refused to move an inch.
Jiang Zhuo’s face drained of color.
A flash of steel—
A sword pierced the throat of the carriage horse. Blood spurted as it shrieked, thrashed, and collapsed.
“Why stop, little beauty?”
Qian Yunyi dismounted with a lewd grin, approaching step by step.
“Has my sincerity moved you?”
Just as Jiang Zhuo’s hope began to die—
A thunder of hoofbeats approached, disciplined and swift.
“Capital Garrison patrol! Who is disturbing the peace—”
The clear, steady voice cut through the night like steel.
Jiang Zhuo’s eyes brightened. She lifted her curtain—
It was Xie Guanlan.
Half a month ago, Jiang Zhuo had met him as a scholar without an official post.
Now he wore armor—imposing, dignified.
In this dynasty, the civil examinations were glorified; the martial exams received far less attention.
No wonder Jiang Zhuo had known so little about him in her past life—he must have already passed the military palace exam then, merely awaiting assignment.
“No trouble here, General. A concubine of mine threw a tantrum. I’m coaxing her back home.”
Knowing he was guilty, Qian Yunyi rushed forward, smoothing his sleeves, trying to build rapport.
He even attempted to shove a stack of banknotes into Xie Guanlan’s hands.
Before he could, Jiang Zhuo jumped from the carriage and declared:
“He lies! I am a Sixth-Rank Music Officer of the Etiquette Bureau! I do not know him at all! He and his men stopped my carriage, killed my horse, and attempted to harm me!”
Xie Guanlan had never intended to accept the bribe.
But when he recognized Jiang Zhuo, his expression hardened further as he turned a cold gaze on Qian Yunyi.
“Bold of you! Do you know who my father is?!”
Realizing things were turning sour, Qian Yunyi pointed around in panic, threatening loudly.
“Even a prince who breaks the law is punished as a commoner.”
Xie Guanlan’s tone remained icy.
“Men! This criminal rode wildly through the streets and attempted to assault a court officer. Seize him!”
His soldiers swiftly subdued all six men.
Jiang Zhuo finally exhaled in relief.
But her horse was dead, and the driver unconscious—she had no way to return to the palace.
As she hesitated, Xie Guanlan rode over.
“If Music Officer Jiang must return to the palace, I can escort you.”
Meeting two benefactors in one night left Jiang Zhuo so moved she nearly teared up.
She bowed gratefully.
“I trouble General Xie tonight.”
“Why are you dressed like this?”
Xie Guanlan glanced at her once—then immediately looked away, face cold.
Jiang Zhuo flushed.
The robe was Lin Rou’er’s—designed to please Ling Heng, bright and enchanting.
Now viewed from atop a horse, especially after her kneeling salute, its neckline seemed far too revealing.
“A burden of beauty,” Xie Guanlan said sharply. “If you cannot protect yourself, then do not flaunt your looks.”
“Yes… General Xie speaks rightly.”
After such a chaotic night, Jiang Zhuo had no strength to refute him.
Xie Guanlan’s soldiers quickly hitched a new horse to her carriage.
Once Jiang Zhuo reentered it, they continued toward the palace.
The night deepened. The capital streets quieted. Jiang Zhuo sat dazed, Xie Guanlan riding beside her in silence.
“…Why did you enter the palace?”
He asked eventually, breaking the quiet.
“My father resigned and left the capital some days ago. The Empress Dowager selected me to temporarily serve as a Music Officer.” Jiang Zhuo paused, then added, “Tonight I accompanied the group delivering imperial music to the Marquis of Wuwei. I fell into the water accidentally—but Marquis Ling’s favored concubine, Madam Lin, lent me clothing. I never thought—”
“Take this.”
A flick of silver crossed the curtain and landed in her lap.
Jiang Zhuo looked down.
A small dagger.
“For self-defense.”
Xie Guanlan rode on, gaze fixed ahead—not sparing her a glance.
“The palace prohibits weapons,” Jiang Zhuo said with a soft laugh. “And General Xie… this counts as a private exchange between man and woman.”
“Return it.”
Jiang Zhuo immediately tucked it into her robe.
“Once a gift is given, how can it be taken back?” She smiled brightly. “Is the General being stingy?”
“…As you wish.”
Xie Guanlan’s reply was faint—
And he said no more.