From a distance, Qiu Xinran saw a broad-shouldered, heavily muscled man with a beard barreling down the slope after them. His physique far surpassed that of the sharp-voiced fake eunuch from earlier; even many ordinary generals were rarely this imposing.
Qiu Xinran had been helping Xia Xiuyan walk despite his injured leg, but as the man drew closer, the boy suddenly shoved her aside in frustration.
“Get out of the way!”
The girl froze. He turned and didn’t glance back, standing his ground as the pursuer closed in. After a brief hesitation, Qiu Xinran gritted her teeth and ran into the forest, following him.
“You’ve got some spirit, kid,” the man growled. He caught up quickly, glancing at the fleeing figure and spitting on the ground in frustration. The girl wasn’t his target tonight, but as long as the boy was in his hands, the mission wouldn’t be a failure.
Still, thinking of the cold corpse left behind in the cave, his fury boiled over. He grabbed the boy by the collar, slamming him into a tree. Xia Xiuyan felt as if every organ had been violently displaced, pain so intense he nearly vomited blood. The tree trembled under the impact, shedding leaves all around.
“You little brat! I told you to run!” the man bellowed, swinging his fist. Xia Xiuyan twisted just enough to avoid the full blow, hearing the tree moan under the force. He grabbed the man’s hand holding his collar, yanking himself free and landing roughly on the ground.
The man, enraged at the boy’s defiance, kicked him down again and leapt forward to strike. Xia Xiuyan knew one punch could have crippled this man, but the attack never came.
The boy lying on the ground squinted, seeing the figure who had fled earlier suddenly return, wielding a thick wooden staff. In the struggle, the newcomer swung the staff straight at the burly man’s head.
The impact cracked the staff with a loud bang. The kneeling man cried out in pain but didn’t lose consciousness immediately. Feeling the blood on his hand in the moonlight, Xia Xiuyan sensed his adversary’s rage rising.
Qiu Xinran froze, seeing his bloodshot eyes. Her half-gripped staff dropped; she scanned frantically but found no suitable weapon for defense, only the silver hairpin in her hair.
It was far too small to matter against a giant like him. The man staggered forward, reaching out and grabbing her by the neck, hurling her against a tree with a heavy thud.
Xia Xiuyan feared her bones had shattered. The man, about to finish him off, suddenly noticed a flash of silver.
The hairpin pierced the burly man’s throat with a muffled sound. Before he could react, air escaped from his lungs, eyes widening in shock—then life left him.
Xia Xiuyan yanked the hairpin free, spraying blood across his face, and pushed the massive body off him. The corpse crashed to the side like a mountain. Outside, cicadas chirped, gradually drowning out his ragged breaths.
Supporting himself on his hands, Xia Xiuyan dragged his injured leg over to the girl lying by the tree. Her long hair spread across the ground, motionless as if lifeless.
He hesitated, unwilling to flip her over too soon. The swing that had thrown her had been violent; her slender arms could have broken with one misstep.
She groaned, clutching his clothing. “If you leave me here, that wouldn’t be humane,” she whispered hoarsely, though still moving slightly.
Xia Xiuyan smirked silently and gently nudged her hand off him. “Get up yourself, or you stay here alone.”
Knowing he could do this, Qiu Xinran cursed under her breath. After a long struggle, she managed to stand, feeling as if her entire body had been dismantled and reassembled.
Xia Xiuyan knelt beside the fallen man, inspecting him silently. This death was even more terrifying than the first. Qiu Xinran stayed put, watching from under a tree.
When he finished, she asked, “What now?”
“Back near the cave.”
“I… what?” she said, unsure she heard correctly.
“Back.” He said no more, retrieving a thick stick as a makeshift cane. “Go grab his bow and arrows.”
Although they had barely left the cave, it was impossible to navigate the mountain alone tonight. The immediate priority was rest, and Xia Xiuyan’s leg needed dressing. Qiu Xinran, eyes wide with concern, picked up the discarded bow and arrows and held them carefully.
Following the sound of running water, they soon found a mountain stream. Xia Xiuyan washed the blood off his face and tore strips from his clothing to bandage the arrow wound. Fortunately, the arrow hadn’t hit bone or tendon; the bleeding stopped quickly. Despite the pain, he made no sound.
“You still look like a general’s son tonight,” Qiu Xinran said, sitting cross-legged across from him, resting her chin on her hand. She paused, then asked, “Why did you tell me to run just now?”
He froze mid-bandage. “Then why did you come back?” he countered casually.
She hesitated. “I’m too young, too soft-hearted. Maybe when I’m older, I wouldn’t come back.”
He chuckled softly and handed her something. She realized it was her silver hairpin, cleaned of blood in the stream, glinting in the moonlight. Memories of it piercing the bandit’s throat made her uneasy.
“Keep it,” she said, “I don’t want it.” She grabbed a nearby branch, used it to tie her hair back, and reverted to her little-daoist-boy disguise, giving him a sly little show. Xia Xiuyan’s heart stirred, thinking: It would have been a shame if she’d died tonight.
Looking at the moon, they had no idea what hour it was or the palace’s situation. Qiu Xinran idly fiddled with a stick, asking, “Should we go back to the cave?”
“No.”
She blinked. “Then why did you—” She had thought he insisted on returning because the cave was safer.
“You wanted to go back?”
She shook her head; with the corpses still in the cave, she didn’t want to. Xia Xiuyan seemed to see through her immediately and smiled faintly. Tonight, he thought, it wasn’t a bad thing that she was still alive—if he were alone, the night would have been unbearably cold.