The scene erupted into chaos.
No one had expected that anyone would dare to ram into the princess's procession in broad daylight.
The men pursuing Nan Rao certainly hadn't anticipated it either—they had only been chasing a woman, yet the moment they emerged from the alley, they found themselves directly facing the carriage of Her Highness Princess Changrong.
There was no time to rein in their horses.
The two groups collided in an instant.
This area was densely populated, the streets bustling with merchants and common folk going about their daily business every day. The princess's procession, with the Tiger Guard clearing the way, had already caused congestion on the road. With palace attendants and maidservants flanking the princess's carriage on both sides, the sudden charge of horsemen into the formation immediately triggered a cacophony of chaos.
"Stop right there!"
"Someone's ramming the princess! Stop them—"
"Protect Her Highness! Protect the princess at once!"
"Arrest them now!"
"What do you think you're doing! Are the Imperial Guards rebelling against heaven itself?!"
"…"
Shouts and cries rang out from all directions. The terrified commoners instantly fell into turmoil. The guards, who had been straining to hold back the crowd, now found themselves having to prevent people from charging at the princess as well. With the confusion, they could no longer manage both, and were jostled and knocked about by the panicked masses.
The scene was extraordinarily chaotic.
Nan Rao had stirred up this muddy water, and she slipped through the confusion, darting about in the chaos. The mounted constables, who had been wholly focused on capturing her, were now badly shaken by having rammed into the princess's procession. They stammered, "We are under orders to apprehend a fugitive…"
"Whose orders? Which fugitive? Is your fugitive hiding inside Her Highness's carriage?" The Tiger Guard protecting Princess Rongchang belonged to the Chamberlain for Attendants, personally assigned by His Majesty for this outing. The leading Tiger Guard officer was furious, yanking his blade from its sheath with a sharp ring and bellowing, "Open your dog eyes and look carefully! If you disturb Her Highness's phoenix carriage, we'll have your heads for this!"
The mounted constable grew angry in turn and shot back, "As if we did it on purpose! The Imperial Guards are acting on the Chancellor's orders to apprehend a wanted criminal. We have no time to waste with you!"
Indeed, there was no time to waste.
But when they looked again, where was Nan Rao's trace?
This kind of noisy scene was perfect for fishing in troubled waters—the more chaotic it became, the easier it was for her to escape.
Nan Rao felt both frenzied and clear-headed in that moment. The Chancellor's people were looking for her anyway—whether one group came after her or two, it made no difference. If she was going to make a scene, she might as well make it big. At worst, the whole of Luoyang would know about it, and she'd see whether Pei Ling would back off out of caution.
To go to such lengths—whether for the Duan family case or merely for her alone—hardly seemed worth it.
Nan Rao kept her eyes on her surroundings as she hunched low and wove through the crowd.
Princess Rongchang's procession had roughly twenty to thirty Tiger Guard protectors. The vast majority had no attention to spare for capturing her, instead straining to keep the panicked commoners from charging the phoenix carriage. Only a handful kept their eyes on Nan Rao. In the confusion, someone grabbed her shoulder without warning. She felt her body suddenly grow heavy, her knees going weak as she nearly crumpled to the ground under the pressure. She clenched her jaw, swiftly drew the dagger from her sleeve, and slashed backward without looking.
Her assailant released her with a grunt of pain. Nan Rao didn't dare turn back to look, scrambling forward in a sorry state to dodge away.
The crowd pressed shoulder to shoulder, but she was slender and nimble. The men behind watched helplessly as she slipped away, not daring to draw their blades recklessly for fear of injuring innocents and being held accountable. Within moments, she had vanished from sight.
Nan Rao circled through the crowd a few times, and only once the street had yet to regain order did she decisively slip back into an alley.
She ran quickly along the wall, the sound of voices growing distant behind her.
It seemed no one was chasing her anymore.
Nan Rao clutched her chest, breathing raggedly, her heart pounding wildly. Cold sweat had long since soaked through her clothes.
Her throat ached terribly, and her head was heavy and dizzy, but she gritted her teeth and pushed on.
Truly frail as a reed, she thought bitterly to herself. In the past, A-Xun had never allowed her to do any labor, afraid she'd fall ill if she tired herself even slightly. She had even complained that he protected her too much.
Now it seemed this body of hers had always been a burden to others—and a burden to herself as well.
She just wanted to go home.
But why was going home so difficult?
Would she never be able to return? Never return to that little courtyard she had shared with A-Xun?
She thought in a daze, then swiftly cast aside this self-defeating notion. As long as she still had breath in her, she would return to Qingzhou. No one was going to keep her in this place.
Nan Rao leaned against the wall briefly to catch her breath, and only once she had recovered somewhat did she struggle to push herself forward.
She suddenly felt lost.
She thought, going through the city gates was certainly out of the question, and the waterways were surely being watched even more closely by now. Either she'd gamble on hiding among merchants' goods, or she'd find a temporary shelter for the night and assess the situation tomorrow.
That was the only option.
Nan Rao circled through several deep alleys, avoiding the carriages and sedan chairs that stopped and started along the way—today the Boyang Marquis's estate was hosting a banquet, and every noble official traveling out had brought numerous attendants. The Shangdong Gate was both dangerous and safe; every step felt like treading on a blade's edge.
It was precisely at that moment that the jade pendant at Nan Rao's waist suddenly came loose and clattered to the ground with a sharp crack.
She bent down to pick it up, but out of the corner of her eye, she caught a faint shadow flashing past behind her.
Something was wrong.
Someone was following her.
The moment she realized this, Nan Rao broke out in a cold sweat.
Who was it?
Hadn't she already shaken off those soldiers?
Whoever was tailing her operated completely differently from the Imperial Guards who had been hunting her under the pretense of capturing a fugitive. The Imperial Guards were direct and decisive in their methods, but the person trailing her now was furtive and sneaky—their intentions completely illegible.
It didn't seem like someone Pei Ling had sent.
But if not him, then who else could it be?
Nan Rao couldn't decide whether this was another card Pei Ling had played, or whether she had inadvertently provoked someone else entirely.
Regardless, being followed was never a good sign.
Cold sweat beaded on her forehead. She closed her eyes with difficulty, tucked Duan Xun's jade pendant back into her robes, silently tightened her grip on the dagger hidden in her sleeve, and continued walking forward, pretending nothing was wrong.
She couldn't look back. She couldn't startle the snake.
When she reached the corner, she spun around quickly, held her breath, and pressed herself into the shadows.
—She no longer had the strength to flee. Since escape was hopeless, she might as well take the initiative and fight.
Nan Rao clenched the dagger in her sleeve, swiftly tore a strip of cloth from the hem of her garment, and wrapped it around the blade.
Soon, footsteps approached.
Judging by the sound, there was only one person for now.
Nan Rao held her breath and focused.
The dagger slid out silently, its cold gleam reflecting a pair of pitch-black eyes.
The moment the person reached the corner, Nan Rao gripped her dagger and lunged forward with every ounce of strength she had, aiming the blade straight at the figure's chest.
Shhk!
The sound of the blade piercing flesh.
The person hadn't expected her to be lying in wait, and took the hit head-on, letting out a pained cry. But Nan Rao couldn't predict their exact position in advance—the dagger only struck their right shoulder.
Then she felt her throat tighten. A powerful grip seized her neck and slammed her hard against the wall.
"Mmph!" A muffled grunt escaped her lips as the back of her head smashed into the wall, pain blackening her vision.
The hand around her neck was tightening fast.
"Little bitch. You're asking for death." The man spat viciously.
Nan Rao struggled to tilt her head up, completely unable to breathe.
It hurt.
It hurt so much.
Her skull throbbed with dull pain, her neck bones seeming to creak under the man's force. Nan Rao's feet were nearly lifted off the ground as suffocation clawed at her consciousness, the strength draining rapidly from her limbs.
Her teeth bit into the tip of her tongue, and the taste of blood flooded her mouth.
No…
She couldn't… she couldn't give up like this…
Nan Rao's fingers refused to release the dagger. Her bloodshot eyes strained wide, catching a blurry glimpse of a stranger's face—a middle-aged man.
She didn't recognize him, and his clothes didn't look like a soldier's.
…Who was this?
She was in so much pain that tears involuntarily welled in her eyes.
Duan Xun had once taught her how to defend herself when a woman was physically outmatched by a man…
Nan Rao's struggling gradually weakened. Seeing her gaze go unfocused, completely devoid of resistance, the man reached into his clothes to pull out a coil of hemp rope.
The instant he was distracted, Nan Rao drove her knee up hard. A scream rang out as the man clutched his groin and let go. A rush of air flooded her lungs. Gasping, she gritted her teeth, snatched up the dagger at her side, and slashed it viciously across his throat!
Blood sprayed everywhere.
Warm blood splattered across her face, staining her eyes crimson.
In that moment, Nan Rao was transported back to the past—a young man gripping her hand tightly, his lips against her ear, teaching her how to defend herself, how to kill.
"A-Rao, if you ever face danger, don't be soft-hearted."
Don't be soft.
Nan Rao had never killed anyone before.
She had never even slaughtered a chicken or a fish.
But now her eyes were bloodshot, her gaze cold and hard. Terrified she might not kill him dead, her fingers clenched the dagger so fiercely her knuckles went white, veins bulging on the back of her hand.
She stabbed at his vital points again and again, until the blood soaked through the cloth wrapped around the blade, until the man pitched forward face-down and went completely still. Only then did she finally let go.
…Is he dead?
Nan Rao stared at her hands, drenched in crimson, her fingertips trembling uncontrollably.
Since arriving in Luoyang, this wasn't the first time she had witnessed a killing.
A wave of intense nausea hit her belatedly—so overwhelming it drowned out the fear, making her want to vomit.
She hated this feeling.
Nan Rao's eyes were red, her face sticky and wet, impossible to tell tears from blood.
She reached up to pull off her veil, but forced herself to stop. In the end, she simply wiped the sweat from her brow with her sleeve.
Just then, a gust of wind swept toward her from behind.
Nan Rao had no time to react. Pain exploded at the back of her head once more.
This time she couldn't resist at all. Her mind went blank with a deafening buzz, the last thread snapping completely as she crumpled limply to the ground.
In the final moment before losing consciousness, she forced her eyes open and caught only a glimpse of two blurry figures—then nothing more.