In the afternoon, the group continued on their journey. After bathing, Jiang Yinyue comfortably leaned against the carriage wall, pondering how to rescue Lightning Chaser from Han Jian’s hands.
“Was Han Jian a servant of the Yan family from the start?”
Wei Qin didn’t think much of it. “Mm.”
“The person who escorted Yan Zhuyu to the capital back then was Han Jian. After you refused her as a concubine, why didn’t she ask Han Jian to take her away to distant lands?”
Han Jian obeyed Yan Zhuyu’s every command and wouldn’t have refused, yet they still arrived in the Capital City as scheduled.
Jiang Yinyue didn’t care if Wei Qin was listening or taking interest. She continued her analysis. “Or perhaps she weighed the pros and cons and preferred being a concubine over pairing with a family servant.”
This was understandable, but Jiang Yinyue clearly remembered that when Yan Zhuyu tearfully begged the crown prince for shelter, she had said, “This subject would rather die than become anyone’s concubine.”
Yan Zhuyu’s looks were not exceptionally beautiful, but her eyes held a myriad of charms. When tears streamed down her face, she evoked pity.
Pitiable people must have detestable traits; detestable people must have pitiable sufferings. The dodder flower clung for mutual survival in adversity. Jiang Yinyue didn’t see scheming as evil. If it had been her, she might not have had Yan Zhuyu’s quick wits. What she minded was Yan Zhuyu’s twisting of right and wrong.
At the fork where she drew away the assassins, she couldn’t help turning back for one last look at the crown prince. The assassins came ferociously; she feared she wouldn’t see her beloved again. It was that glance back when she noticed a faint, slender figure in the bushes shielding the crown prince—a woman.
The woman timidly shrank back, hiding her form, likely afraid of being accidentally injured by the assassins.
The incident happened suddenly, with nearby commoners fleeing in panic. She had no time to think deeply and exposed her position to the assassins with a resolve to die.
Later, at their first meeting in the Eastern Palace, she mistook Yan Zhuyu for a palace maid. She hadn’t expected her to be the very woman hiding in the bushes that day.
Thus, she disliked Yan Zhuyu—not because of who the crown prince favored, but simply because she disliked the person Yan Zhuyu was.
Several more days passed. While resting along the way, Jiang Yinyue carried bran to the back to feed the scruffy horse and happened to encounter Han Jian sitting by the roadside, head down, studying a terrain map.
By coincidence, she overheard the female servant Han Yan negotiating with Han Jian.
“Brother, our home is less than ten li from here. Let’s beg the young lady for permission to stop by home. We can stay in the village tonight—one stone, two birds.”
Han Jian sounded glum; he was clearly tempted. But as a servant, how could he ask his master to accommodate them?
“Forget it.”
“It’s been five years since we went home. Such a rare chance.”
Jiang Yinyue passed by without a word. After feeding the horses, she returned to find Han Jian still sitting there blankly, staring unblinkingly at the terrain map.
“Missing home?”
The woman’s probing voice reached his ears. Han Jian shot her a cold glance, rolled up the terrain map, and moved to stand.
Jiang Yinyue stared at the man’s back and casually tossed out an exchange. “I can find a way to make it happen for you siblings.”
Han Jian’s turnaround was expected. The confident Jiang Yinyue pointed at Lightning Chaser. “One must know to return a favor, right?”
Sunset bathed the woman’s radiant face, blending with her rosy attire, dazzling brilliantly and adding charm to the vast mountains.
Han Jian, used to being ordered around by Yan Zhuyu, felt unaccustomed to negotiating. Conditioned to submission, he had nearly forgotten how to refuse or accept.
The wind whistled, sand drifted. On the endless mountain road, Jiang Yinyue steadied herself on Wei Qin’s shoulder to stand, cupped her hands like a megaphone, and shouted to the group, “There’s a village ahead. Let’s borrow lodging for the night—everyone can get a good sleep.”
Borrowing lodging was far better than camping in the wind. The guards naturally had no objections.
From the other carriage, Yan Zhuyu lifted the curtain and looked at the smiling woman, puzzled by her glee.
Across from her, sisters Han Yan and Han Xun sat silently, suppressing their anxiety and secret joy. But they didn’t understand why this Jiang Mansion young lady, raised in luxury, would fight so hard for a scruffy horse of impure bloodline.
It was said that Minister Jiang’s stables housed several imperial-gifted Sweat-Blooded Steeds.
Unaware of the deal, Yan Zhuyu only learned upon reaching the village entrance that this was the Han siblings’ ancestral home. She chalked it up to coincidence.
Upon arriving at the farmhouse, the group saw an old woman with gray hair chopping wood in the yard.
Han Jian pushed open the fence gate, choking up before speaking. His burly frame crashed to his knees.
“Unfilial son!”
Han Yan and Han Xun sobbed uncontrollably.
“Mother, your daughters have come to see you!”
The old woman looked incredulously at her suddenly appeared children, tears blurring her aged eyes. She shakily stepped forward, unsure whom to help up first.
Old Man Han, bedridden from long-term paralysis, grew frantic and called his children’s childhood names through the door.
Night fell, and that night, myriad lights ignited one for this family.
Immersed in the joy of helping others while benefiting herself, Jiang Yinyue didn’t notice Wei Qin quietly withdrawing to the side.
With the old woman vouching, the guards lodged in nearby homes.
Yan Zhuyu was arranged in the family’s side room, showing no displeasure. She even visited the paralyzed Old Man Han, offering carried supplements.
“The village hasn’t been peaceful lately. Young lady, be sure to bar the door at night.”
Han Yan hurriedly said, “This servant will guard the young lady.”
“You’ve only just returned after so long. Spend more time with your elders.”
Yan Zhuyu was clever and knew the value of winning hearts. This tolerance and understanding was enough to earn the Han siblings’ eternal gratitude.
Jiang Yinyue and Wei Qin were placed in the neighboring family’s side room, similarly warned to stay vigilant at night and not venture out.
As the neighborly old man fetched hot water, he cautioned, “The Zhou Family Man’s wife ran off with someone. Unable to bear the mockery, the Zhou Family Man went mad. He often set fires in his dreams, burning others’ homes, then knew nothing upon waking.”
Jiang Yinyue puzzled, “How does one set fires in dreams?”
The old man covered his mouth. “Maybe possessed by something—like a walking corpse.”
Jiang Yinyue shut the door, wrung out a wet cloth to wipe herself. “Turn around.”
“I’ll stand guard outside.”
Wei Qin opened the door, his figure appearing in the dimly lit yard under a solitary lamp. At his vigorous young age, he couldn’t withstand that faint, alluring fragrance.
At the opposite side room’s window appeared a small silhouette, bobbing its head while reciting from a book.
Stumbling on an idiom, the child paused repeatedly, unclear on the meaning and unfamiliar with the last character. “Warmth awakens… awakens…”
“Hibernation ends, also called the Awakening of Insects.”
The child pushed open the window, looking surprised at the guest. He had a scholarly elegance, handsome as Pan An and striking as a painting, yet gave off an unapproachable aloofness.
The child blinked. “Do you know what it means?”
Wei Qin offered no lengthy explanation. “Fortune turns.”
“And this one?”
He approached and looked at the line the child pointed to. “Serenity reveals spring, blessings and guidance flourish together.”
Thinking Wei Qin a tutor, the child respectfully asked, “What does it mean?”
Wei Qin was about to explain when he glimpsed a streak of firelight. A scorched smell and white smoke rose from the yard’s fence.
The child cried out, “Fire! Fire!”
His shrill voice pierced the night, rousing nearby villagers.
Wei Qin narrowed his eyes at the fleeing shadow, leaped out lithely like a swallow. He pursued through several homes and sparse woods, locking onto the figure before pouncing, tackling the man to the ground.
The two figures rolled together.
The opponent was astonishingly strong, mad and deranged, muttering incoherently. He kicked Wei Qin away, grabbed the fallen torch, and set the woods ablaze.
“All die.”
“Everyone die.”
Disheveled and bearded, he menacingly advanced on Wei Qin with the torch.
A clash of strength.
Wei Qin was scooped up by the waist, his back slamming heavily into a tree trunk.
The man was bear-like, unusually tall, with innate power advantage.
No wonder no villagers dared intervene.
A giant monster.
The impacts shook Wei Qin’s innards; he coughed blood, then was choked at the neck.
“Meddler, you die too.”
Wei Qin arched his neck back, headbutting the man’s skull.
The man staggered, stars in his eyes. Reacting, a shadow charged like a hunting leopard, striking his face.
The figures tumbled, one atop the other.
The forest fire grew, black smoke billowing.
Straddling the man’s waist, Wei Qin hammered fists into his face, eyes burning with unnamed fury. “Still pretending to be mad?”
“Ah!!!”
“Still pretending?”
Beaten black and blue, the man grimaced. He hadn’t expected a nosy stranger. “Worth it?!”
Wei Qin pounded until the man begged through tears, then stopped. He’d seen too many fakers among the mad.
One more punch sent the man reeling unconscious.
Villagers’ footsteps approached distantly. Wei Qin rose, surveyed the burning woods, then a suffocating wave hit. He clutched his throat, his upright frame crashing to his knees.
His back shuddered like butterfly wings.
His gaze dulled, vision blurred, eyes scorched by flames.
“Fire! The woods are on fire—fetch water!”
“Someone’s in the woods!”
Villagers’ voices rang urgent and frantic.
Neighbors arrived with buckets.
Wei Qin propped himself with one hand, forearm veins bulging. The searing heat choked him, lungs aching unbearably. As his body tilted, cool small hands steadied him.
“Wei Qin!”
Ignoring villagers’ warnings, Jiang Yinyue crossed the stream, dashed into the burning woods, knelt to support the fever-hot Wei Qin.
Wei Qin caught a familiar cool fragrance. Unconsciously, he clung to this coolness.
Jiang Yinyue knew Wei Qin feared heat but not if it stemmed from childhood trauma. His skin blazed red now, searing an old wound anew. She only knew she couldn’t let him waste away in the fire.
“Let’s go. I’ll get you out.”
Wei Qin leaned his full weight onto the woman in his arms.
Black smoke roiled, danger imminent. Jiang Yinyue supported the near-unconscious man, stumbling step by step.
“Lightning Chaser!”
A brown-and-white horse leaped the stream, arriving on call, mane flying in firelight.
Struggling to boost Wei Qin onto its back, a scarred hand assisted.
Han Jian brushed past hurriedly, joining the firefighting.
The woods clamored amid charred trees, uncertain when spring would return.
“Go!”
Heart ailments were hard to cure. Jiang Yinyue urged the horse to flee the inferno, eyes sharp, galloping against the wind, night breeze whipping her cheeks.
The usually carefree woman rarely felt such unyielding responsibility. The deepest time was luring assassins from the crown prince. This time, the mindset resurfaced.
All along the journey, Wei Qin had cared for her. Now it was her turn to protect him. She never wanted to be a burden but to shelter those beside her from harsh snow and gale-force winds.
A strand of long hair caught at her lips; she paid it no mind. One hand gripped the reins, the other clasped Wei Qin’s hands around her waist.
Wei Qin seemed unconscious, slumped against her back. For a moment, it was as if he were amid flames, ears filled with agonized screams. His mind chaotic, gaze vacant, blood rising in his throat—until a warm small hand covered his, fingers intertwining tightly.
His taut heartstrings eased.
He closed his eyes, tightened his arms, drawing the last warmth—a temperature he didn’t reject.
Jiang Yinyue rode Lightning Chaser through moonlit village paths, hooves thundering past plum groves, sleeves catching windborne plum scent. Beyond lay peach paths and willow lanes. She squeezed Wei Qin’s hand, wanting him to see the scenery.
Vibrant life bloomed silently; heart wounds would fade subtly. They certainly would, Wei Qin.
Jiang Yinyue said to herself in her heart.