Chapter 68 Drinking Flying Snow (Part 8) Upon seeing Wei Yuanzhan, his legs seemed to obey him...

The light and shadow were still, casting a dull glow on people, without any sense of warmth.

Zhi Rou was furious. She was already reluctant to get close to outsiders, and he had even torn off her collar, which made her very unhappy.

Ignoring the pain in her wrist, she quickly pried the man's hand off, struck his ribs, and then rolled over, forcefully pushing him away from her.

Enhe had never fought with a girl before, and when she suddenly found an opening, he couldn't help but look embarrassed. Then he stood up and picked up the short knife beside him.

Zhi Rou was startled and reached out to grab his sleeve: "Give it back to me!"

He dodged to the side, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the distance where Princess Yan's men were approaching quickly. A flurry of thoughts raced through his mind, but he finally tucked the dagger into his robes and turned back into the woods.

Zhi Rou was unwilling to let him go. Just as she chased after him, a bone arrow with a whistling sound suddenly flew down from above and heavily embedded itself in front of her boot.

Their archery technique was quite different from before, but they were all using bone arrows, so it was clear that more than one person was lying in ambush around them.

Before long, Enhe returned to the inn in the city. Ao Yun and Mu Xile followed him in, closed the door, and threw the bows and arrows in their hands onto the table.

"That man saw the prince's appearance, why won't he let me kill him?" Ao Yun frowned as he looked at Mu Xile.

His arrow was aimed at the boy from the Central Plains' heart, but Mu Xile interfered with it, causing it to deviate and land at the boy's feet.

"All you know is killing." Mu Xile glanced at him. "We're not here to kill people... That kid seems to be a confidant of Princess Yan. Why don't we capture him and ask him? We can find out what's going on in the Yan army."

“If we let him go back, he will expose the prince,” Ao Yun insisted.

The prince had entered the Central Plains without informing the Khan. Upon learning of his unauthorized departure, the Khan was furious and immediately dispatched men to Yuyang to search for the prince. Alamusu also set off ahead of schedule due to this matter, heading south on the same day.

Ao Yun and Mu Xile managed to slip away from the horse caravan with great difficulty and found the prince by following the marks he left behind.

If the people of Alamusu knew that the prince was in Yan territory, wouldn't they be even more unscrupulous in pinning those crimes on the prince?

“No.” Enhe sat behind the desk, clutching the Han Chinese knife in his hand.

When he saw the Yan guards sneaking over, he did intend to kill her, but there wasn't enough time. He was afraid that if he didn't finish the job, he might leave behind some leverage. By then, it was too late to capture her. However, the knife he casually picked up elicited a strong reaction from her.

This knife must have been especially important to her.

Using this as a bargaining chip was a risky move, but under the circumstances at the time, there was no better way out.

Ao Yun listened without saying a word, wrinkled his nose, and showed an expression of disapproval.

In his opinion, that man from the Central Plains should still be killed.

"What are the prince's plans next?" Mu Xile asked, washing her hands and pouring Enhe a cup of tea.

The tea from the south was bitter, and Enhe couldn't get used to it, so he didn't touch it. He sheathed his knife, lifted his robe, and walked behind the tent to lie down lazily. He didn't care about the mud and grime on his body or the long, congealed blood on the back of his finger.

He's always been like this since he was little. He may seem utterly pathetic, but whenever he raises his eyebrows and smiles, he always looks more distinguished than others.

"Next, we'll go to Yuyang."

He was uncomfortable wearing these Han Chinese clothes and should change them.

"Is the young lady injured?" Jing Yao saw Zhi Rou stroll in from outside the tent, her chin and neck covered in red marks as if someone had smeared blood on them.

She rushed over, her words tumbling out in worry: "I...I'll go find Physician Zhao. Miss, please...please sit down..." She took her arm and led her to the bed.

"It's nothing," Zhi Rou replied, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "It's not my blood."

As soon as she raised her hand, the pain in her right wrist bone caught up with her, causing her to furrow her brows and break out in a cold sweat.

Jing Yao had just breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed the plum-like bloodstains on her shoulder and froze again: "What happened to your ear...?"

The matter of the dagger distracted Zhi Rou, and she had long forgotten the scratch on her earlobe. But now that she brought it up, the scene in the forest resurfaced.

Zhi Rou pursed her lips in disgust, and after a long while, she suddenly asked, "Sister, can you paint?"

Unexpectedly, she asked about Danqing. Jingyao was still a little slow to react, but when she saw those bright eyes looking at her, she quickly changed her mind and nodded at her.

Just as the Crown Prince sent someone to summon Zhi Rou, Jing Yao had finished painting.

Zhi Rou glanced warily at the tent, tore the palm-sized portrait from the book, folded it, and stuffed it into her bosom. Then she said to Jing Yao, "Please keep this a secret for me, sister."

"Don't worry, young lady."

With her consent, Zhi Rou casually wiped her face clean with a handkerchief, and without even changing her clothes, she put on a cloak and followed the palace officials to the Crown Prince's tent.

Since leaving the capital, the group has faced one setback after another, each one requiring Bei Li's intervention. And the bone arrows discovered in the forest this time were not produced in the Yan Dynasty.

According to Huai Xian, the archery skills of the man in the forest were so exquisite that they seemed almost divinely inspired. This inevitably brings to mind the famous general Boyan, who once stirred up the battlefield with his unparalleled archery skills.

After his death, it was said that only one person on the grassland inherited his mantle, and that person now serves under the seventeenth prince of the royal court.

If the bone arrows today truly originated from Bei Li... is this an attempt to intimidate the imperial court?

Just thinking about how the nation once reigned supreme and was admired by all, but now it was being provoked by tribal people, made the Crown Prince's hands behind his back slowly tighten, and his brows and eyes were shrouded in dark clouds that were difficult to dispel.

Zhi Rou followed the palace official for the time it takes to drink three cups of tea before arriving at the Crown Prince's tent.

Zhi Rou calmly pulled her clothes together, straightened her posture, and stepped inside.

At midday, when the sun was at its strongest, a northerly wind suddenly swept through the camp, its chill biting against our faces and bodies.

Jingyao was worried about Zhirou's injury, so before even eating, she went to the physician to ask for a lot of medicine for her wounds and stood on the flat road waiting for Zhirou to return.

Princess Huaixian's people never showed up. Zhi Rou was the one they initially called away, and now that she's injured, they haven't even offered a word of condolence.

Jing Yao thought to herself: This prince is no different from the other masters in the palace.

After waiting for about half an hour, Zhi Rou's figure finally came into view. Overjoyed, she immediately went over and said, "Are you hungry, Miss? There's food and medicine inside. Let me apply the medicine for you."

Zhi Rou forced a smile and agreed. But as she entered the room, her smile faltered instantly, replaced by a hint of melancholy.

Zhi Rou answered all the questions posed by the Crown Prince, but when asked about the man's appearance, she could only offer vague descriptions like "high nose and deep-set eyes." She both hoped that this marriage alliance would not go smoothly and that they could return to the capital, yet she also vaguely knew that reality would not unfold that way.

"Is this... an arrow wound?" Jing Yao brushed aside her hair, revealing a touch of ochre red on her right earlobe. Further down, the fabric at the back of her body seemed to have been torn by a sharp object before being draped under her cloak, making everything appear as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

Upon hearing this, Zhi Rou turned her head and, seeing her astonished expression, whispered, "Yes, it doesn't hurt anymore."

As he spoke, he straightened his back and pushed himself up. Suddenly, the skin that had been injured in the forest twitched, feeling both prickly and itchy.

That night, Zhi Rou slept restlessly, tossing and turning on her side until her arm went numb.

There were no lights inside the tent, but the shadows of torches cast on the tent from the outside, giving it a dim, vermilion hue.

Zhi Rou propped herself up on the bed and sat up, hugging her knees. Her eyes were fixed on the curled edges of the mat, and she suddenly thought of the past.

During her first month at Qiyun Garden, Wei Yuanzhan disliked her intensely. Her attitude towards Wei Yuanzhan changed accordingly, fluctuating wildly with her mood; she might like him one day and dislike him the next, making her unpredictable.

That afternoon, after the two of them finished practicing their footwork, Wei Yuanzhan walked to the shade of a tree, sat down on the mat that Lan Ye had prepared, and drew the short sword hanging at his waist.

Whenever he has free time, he loves to carve lotus wood with a knife.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, illuminating his nose and brows, creating a serene atmosphere that calmed even the most restless heart.

Zhi Rou has always loved beautiful people and things. She was attracted to him for a moment. She ran into the house, brought out a rolled-up mat, and laid it out next to him under the shade of a tree, tilting her head to look at him.

It has to be said that his wood-carving skills are even better than his master's.

Those hands were sharp and slender, but not thin and bony. Instead, they moved with strength, cutting and moving across the wood. Once the shape was roughly formed, they would switch to another tool and polish it with great patience.

Wei Yuanzhan couldn't ignore the clingy gaze beside him. He frowned and gave her a disdainful look: "Could you please stop sitting next to me?"

Therefore, her tone was somewhat aggressive: "This is my territory."

Wei Yuanzhan remained silent for a moment after hearing this, then looked up at Lan Ye.

He laid out the mat.

Zhi Rou guessed that Lan Ye was going to be in trouble again, and before he could speak, she asked again, "Why don't you want to play with me?"

After the New Year, they were clearly quite familiar with each other. But ever since she went to Qiyun Garden to learn martial arts, Wei Yuanzhan has been somewhat cold and critical of her.

"You're so unhappy that I'm becoming your student?"

Wei Yuanzhan tightened his grip on her palm, looked at her for a moment, and then turned his face away.

He had worked so hard to achieve this, and she got it just by playing the victim. It was so unfair, of course he was unhappy. But hearing her ask so directly made it seem like he was being petty.

In fact, he had already yielded to her in many things, but for some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to be at a disadvantage in his words.

The words, spoken aloud, inevitably carried an element of defiance: "I'm not unhappy, I just don't like you."

“But you weren’t like this before.” Zhi Rou frowned.

Without a second thought, Wei Yuanzhan replied, "Anyway, it is now."

After saying this, Zhi Rou remained motionless for a long time.

It's strange, she doesn't necessarily need Wei Yuanzhan to be her friend, but many times when she sees him, her legs seem to move on their own.

Now that he had said this much, Zhi Rou felt a little sad. Her bright and cheerful eyes gradually dimmed, and her eyelashes drooped.

All that remained was a sweltering, swirling wind.

Wei Yuanzhan turned his face back, glanced at her, and hesitated, wondering whether he should bring up the topic.

After a long pause, he finally asked, "Do you really want to learn martial arts?"

Zhi Rou paused slightly, then nodded her chin slightly: "I want to protect myself and protect my mother."

Wei Yuanzhan pondered for a moment, his eyebrows rising higher and higher, clearly having misunderstood: "Does anyone in the Song family dare to lay a hand on you?"

As he said this, his face had the unique expression of a young man, as if if she agreed, he would go to the Song residence to speak up for her.

Zhi Rou also furrowed her delicate brows: "My family treats us very well, but I don't stay at home all the time." She lifted her eyelids and casually added, "I like to hang out with my friends outside."

Her gaze happened to fall on Wei Yuanzhan's face, which gave her the name of the "friend" she was referring to.

His cheeks suddenly felt hot. He raised the hand holding the knife, scratched his brow bone, and then avoided her gaze.

Zhi Rou stopped paying attention to him, rested her arms on her knees, cupped her cheeks, and pondered her own thoughts.

Summer weather is very humid, and the wind feels sticky and uncomfortable on the skin.

Wei Yuanzhan never finished carving his lotus wood; it only had a rough outline. He sheathed his short sword, seemingly dissatisfied with what he held, and tossed it to Zhirou before getting up, dusting off his robes, and walking out of the courtyard.

From that day on, Zhi Rou began to play with knives and studied mechanical arts in her spare time. Her ingenuity and skill surpassed even Wei Yuanzhan's.

My thoughts gradually subsided in the darkness. As my gaze fell, the camp was softened by the firelight, and the night seemed endlessly long.

Zhi Rou took out the wooden dagger from her bosom, along with the portrait Jing Yao had drawn for her. She unfolded it and looked at it for a long time, the edges of the paper almost crumpled in her hands, but the face of the person in the painting remained unchanged.

Whoever he is, he took what was hers, and she is determined to take it back herself.