Although Qiu Xinran had witnessed three deaths in a single day, this was her first time seeing one so up close. When Xia Xiuyan jumped down from the tree, he suspected she had been frightened into a daze. He stepped forward, lightly patted her, and guided her to slump onto the ground.
He sneered, his gaze fixed straight ahead, and walked over to the body. He began searching the man’s belongings and found a Yulin Army badge and a letter stained with blood. Xia Xiuyan opened it and saw only four words written inside: “Do not forget your promise”, with a strange seal marking the signature—its owner unknown.
Qiu Xinran, still shaking from the ordeal, wiped her face with her sleeve and watched Xia Xiuyan fold the letter and pocket it before approaching her. She now felt a complicated mix of emotions toward the young prince; if she could, she never wanted to cross him.
“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” she quickly said, before he could speak.
“Tell anyone what?”
Qiu Xinran glanced at the arrow he held. Xia Xiuyan raised an eyebrow. “Have you seen me ride and shoot?”
“At the training grounds, once,” she admitted honestly.
He held his bow and asked again, “What else do you know?”
Qiu Xinran instinctively wanted to deny it, but under his gaze, she hesitated and cautiously said, “You’ve been faking your illness, haven’t you?” Someone truly sick wouldn’t have the strength to draw a bow several times in such quick succession, nor could they shoot so accurately.
Xia Xiuyan didn’t deny it. With an expression almost gentle, he asked, “Anything else?”
Qiu Xinran closed her eyes in despair. “And… are you now thinking about killing me to silence me?”
The forest fell silent for a long moment. When she opened her eyes, she saw him standing in front of her, smirking faintly, as if truly weighing her fate. After a pause, he said, “I told you yesterday: people with too much cleverness die fastest… and now you know far too much.”
Summoning courage, she said, “Your leg is injured. I can run.”
Xia Xiuyan glanced at her coldly. “You can try—see if your legs run faster than my arrows.”
He was right. Her mind raced through countless thoughts, all futile, until she gave up in frustration. “I didn’t want to know! If I had run off yesterday, none of this would have happened!”
“So you really should have run yesterday,” Xia Xiuyan said, stepping closer, his tone tinged with regret. “I gave you the chance.”
He leaned in, and terror flashed in Qiu Xinran’s eyes. Instinctively, she wanted to flee, but the moment she moved, pain shot through her neck—and she lost consciousness.
…
When she opened her eyes again, she was lying in her own palace room. Yuan Zhou, who had been guarding her, let out a sigh of relief. “Finally awake. If you didn’t wake up soon, I’d have had to fetch the imperial physician.”
He carefully helped her sit up. Seeing her dazed expression, he worried aloud, “You didn’t hit your head, did you? Do you remember who I am?”
Qiu Xinran waved his hand away irritably. Her voice was hoarse. “How did I get back?”
“At dawn, the palace guards noticed Xia Xiuyan was missing. His attendants found him unconscious by the hunting grounds behind the mountain. There were bandits attacking the palace last night and trying to kidnap the prince. The emperor was furious and ordered a search. Luckily, both you and the prince were unharmed.”
Recalling the previous night, she asked, “How long was I unconscious?”
“A full day,” Yuan Zhou replied, opening the window. Outside, the sun was setting. “Bandits had infiltrated the palace. The emperor immediately ordered a return. If you hadn’t woken, they’d have sent you back in a carriage tomorrow.”
“And Xia Xiuyan?”
“The prince’s leg injury isn’t too serious,” Yuan Zhou said solemnly. “In front of others, never call him by name casually, and be careful even in private.”
Her junior, younger in rank but older in age, had been assigned by Bai Jingming to look after her, ensuring she remained careful and proper in the palace. But Qiu Xinran’s concern wasn’t that—she asked directly, “What did Xia Xiuyan say to the emperor when he returned?”
Yuan Zhou shook his head. “I don’t know. The palace rumors say you were kidnapped up the mountain, but the bandits fought among themselves, and you escaped by luck.”
Qiu Xinran considered this. Xia Xiuyan must have invented a story to conceal the truth from the emperor. Since he hadn’t intended to kill her on the mountain, he likely wouldn’t now, with so many people in the palace.
Relieved, she leaned back under the covers. Yuan Zhou, sensing her logic, didn’t press further and quietly closed the door.
Later, Qiu Xinran finally heard the full version of that strange rumor. Xia Xiuyan had been absent from the palace for an extended period to recuperate.
Yuan Zhou was soon promoted and busy with duties, while Qiu Xinran, previously idle, took his place in the Astronomical Bureau, training under Bai Jingming.
The academy focused on the Six Arts, but Emperor Xuande’s fascination with seeking immortals and knowledge of the heavens led him to arrange additional astronomy lessons every five days, taught by Bai Jingming. Qiu Xinran served as his attendant, recording the lectures.
The lessons were dry and hard to follow, though Bai Jingming understood and rarely assigned homework or pop quizzes. Most students feigned illness to skip class, leaving Qiu Xinran as the only diligent one, taking careful notes for half an hour without moving—a discipline even the normally diligent Zhou Xianyi envied.
Bai Jingming, having a student now, taught in greater detail, inadvertently confusing everyone else more. This arrangement pleased both teacher and student.
After one lesson, Bai Jingming left early, and Qiu Xinran slowly finished organizing her notes. Li Hanyuan approached, sitting cross-legged. “Xinran, will you come to archery class later?”
She shook her head. “I need to return to the Astronomical Bureau to organize the yearly records.”
Li Hanyuan looked disappointed. “I thought we could finally see you shoot.”
Qiu Xinran froze. “Shoot?”
“Watch you shoot arrows,” the little princess said innocently. “They say you’re amazing. I want to see.”
“Who says that?” Qiu Xinran asked, confused. Li Hanyuan only made her more puzzled.
From the corner, a calm voice spoke. Fourth Prince Li Hanxing said, “Sichen, you hide your skills well. Now the entire palace says your archery is miraculous—you can hit a target a hundred paces away.”
Qiu Xinran blinked, heart pounding, but kept her face neutral. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t you know?” Zheng Yuanwu joined in. “After the palace incident, the guards found the three bodies. Xia Xiuyan said two bandits fought each other, and you escaped in the chaos. Is that right?”
Qiu Xinran nodded cautiously. “Yes… that’s how it was.”
“The surviving one chased you. Xia Xiuyan wounded his knee, and you struck him from behind with a stick and pierced his throat with a hairpin. Right?”
Qiu Xinran hesitated. “Not entirely false…”
Everyone’s gaze shifted to respect. Li Hanyi remarked, “I didn’t expect you to have the courage to kill someone with a hairpin. I underestimated you.”
Zheng Yuanwu, hearing no objection, believed the rumors completely. “And that morning, when the palace reinforcements climbed the mountain, you shot him from the tree, correct?”
“…Not entirely,” she admitted.
Li Hanyi relaxed, regaining her pride. “I thought so—an arrow killing at a hundred paces is absurd! But wait, was it really you, or Xia Xiuyan?”
“That’s impossible!” Li Hanyi interjected. “You’ve seen him at the training grounds; you know he can’t do that.”
They all agreed. Zheng Yuanwu frowned. “But it was just you two. One of you must have done it.”
Everyone looked at her. Qiu Xinran calmed herself and said firmly, “The rumors are exaggerated. The ‘hundred-paces kill’ is false. That day, I missed several shots from the tree. It was Xia Xiuyan’s knee wound that gave me the chance to hit the chest.”
Everyone nodded thoughtfully—hitting the chest was indeed easier than the knee. Li Hanfeng frowned. “But I heard the fatal shot was to the throat. That wasn’t you?”
“That arrow—” she paused, “was the bandit committing suicide when he realized his identity was exposed.”
It made sense. This explanation was far more believable than the rumors. Everyone was satisfied, acknowledging that even if the story was exaggerated, the two had experienced a harrowing ordeal.
Li Hanyuan wondered, “But how did Xinran learn archery?”
Zheng Yuanwu answered, “The Nine Sects include the Sword Sect. I didn’t expect a girl from the mountains to train as well.”
Qiu Xinran humbly said, “Training in the mountains is only for strength, not comparison with the brave. If anyone from this room had been in the mountains that day, they’d have been worse off than me.”
The others agreed. Even Xia Xiuyan, frail and sickly, alongside a slender little Taoist like her, had survived unscathed.
They discussed the mountain events before dispersing.
Later, Li Hanfeng visited the princess’s residence to see Xia Xiuyan and recounted the day’s academy events.
Xia Xiuyan paused, smiling silently. “She said that?”
“Yes,” Li Hanfeng asked for confirmation. “Was she telling the truth?”
“Have her shoot publicly once, and you’ll see.”