Chapter Thirty-Five: Assassination in the Streets
In late spring, at a street corner in the West Market of Yongzhou, the setting sun bathed the bluestone pavement in a warm golden light. Huairou, dressed in a light pink, high-waisted ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), with a light veil draped over her arm, stood beside Zhen Jiancheng, who wore an indigo brocade robe with subtle patterns. His posture was upright and sturdy, exuding an undeniable air of refined elegance and composure. The two walked side by side, chatting and laughing, preparing to return home.
“Lord Jiancheng,” Huairou frowned slightly, her voice clear and melodious, “you said last time that Yongzhou was the territory of the Lu family. Does Prime Minister Lu know about this?”
Zhen Jiancheng's gaze swept across the street, a sharp glint appearing in his deep eyes: "Although this is Lu family territory, it's rumored that Prime Minister Lu and his brother have a strained relationship and rarely interact. Lu Lian controls the grain transport and market in Yongzhou; it's possible he's keeping these actions a secret from Prime Minister Lu." The "actions" he spoke of were the rebellious act of the Second Prince's faction, using the Lu family's influence to embezzle state funds and raise private troops. He knew that given Huairou's relationship with Lu Binghui, what she truly cared about was whether Lu Binghui knew about this.
To avoid being seen, the two took a side path back to the villa in the east of the city. The alley was deep and secluded, the last rays of the setting sun were fading, and the high walls on both sides cast long shadows. In the silence, only the sound of footsteps could be heard.
As they reached a fork in the road, Zhen Jiancheng suddenly stopped, his arm instinctively reaching out to protect Huairou. "There's an ambush," he whispered, his voice calm yet tense with alertness.
Before he could finish speaking, the alleyways were blocked by more than a dozen assassins in black, their blades gleaming coldly in the dim light. The leader said in a sinister tone, "Knowing too much always comes at a price."
"Stay close to me!" Zhen Jiancheng pulled Huairou behind him, his soft sword instantly unsheathed, its light flashing like a bolt of lightning as he met the oncoming blade. His moves were grand and powerful, imbued with the precision and strength honed over years, and for a moment he managed to block all the attacks. However, the alley was narrow, the assassins were numerous, and their attacks were ruthless. He had to be distracted by protecting Huairou, who knew nothing of martial arts, which inevitably restricted his movements.
In the chaos of battle, an assassin's blade flashed, aimed straight for Huairou's face! Huairou retreated in alarm, tripping over loose stones and falling to the side. The blade grazed her raised arm, tearing her pink sleeve and revealing a bloody gash.
"Huairou!" Zhen Jiancheng was shocked and wanted to turn around to save her, but his right shoulder was slightly exposed.
Another assassin seized the opportunity, his poisoned dagger whistling through the air as he thrust straight at the target!
"Ugh!" The dagger sank deep into his shoulder blade, and excruciating pain surged through him. Zhen Jiancheng groaned, veins bulging on his forehead, but he steadied himself with extraordinary willpower, and with a swift and decisive backhand strike, ended the attacker's life.
"Jiancheng Jun!" Huairou saw the blood spreading rapidly on his back, and her heart felt as if it had been struck by a heavy hammer, the pain far exceeding that of the wound on her arm. She struggled to get up.
Just then, hurried footsteps and shouts came from outside the alley. "Protect the Emperor!" The hidden guards finally arrived.
Seeing that things were going badly, the leader of the assassins gave a whistle, and the remaining assassins quickly fled.
"My lord! Miss Huairou!" The leader of the secret guards' expression changed drastically upon seeing Zhen Jiancheng's injuries.
“Back to the other courtyard…” Zhen Jiancheng’s face was pale, cold sweat soaking his temples, but his tone remained calm. His gaze swept over Huairou’s bleeding arm, his brows furrowed, his anxiety and heartache evident in his expression, “Your injury…”
"I'm fine!" Huairou shook her head vigorously, tears welling up in her eyes, but she held them back and used her uninjured hand to support him. "Quickly! Get a doctor!"
...
The main house of Yongzhou Villa was brightly lit and filled with the aroma of medicine.
The doctor has treated both men's wounds. Zhen Jiancheng's back wound was extremely deep, only inches from his lungs, and he had lost a lot of blood, requiring absolute rest. Huairou's arm wound was shallower, and after cleaning and bandaging, he was fine.
Zhen Jiancheng lay face down on the bed, unconscious from blood loss and excruciating pain. Huairou stood guard outside, her arms wrapped in white gauze, but she refused to leave no matter what. She personally tended to the medicine stove, and as she listened to his occasional suppressed groans of pain from inside, her heart felt as if it were being bound by threads, tightening in waves.
In the stillness of the night, she carried a cup of warm water and tiptoed into the inner room. The soft moonlight illuminated his pale face, pale from blood loss, his usual composure replaced by vulnerability. She carefully used a warm, damp handkerchief to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead and neck.
Her fingertips accidentally brushed against his tightly pursed lips; the slightly dry touch and burning heat sent a shiver down her spine. This feeling of longing and yearning, of wanting to take his place, was both foreign and overwhelming to Mo Li, a soul from the modern world.
The next morning, Zhen Jiancheng awoke with excruciating pain in his shoulders and back. As soon as he moved, he sensed someone beside his bed.
It was Huairou. She was still wearing that lotus-pink dress, stained with blood but now washed and dried. Because she hadn't slept all night, there were faint dark circles under her eyes, and she had fallen asleep on the edge of the bed. One arm, wrapped in gauze, rested lightly on the edge of the bed, while the other hand still held a slightly cool handkerchief.
Looking at her peaceful sleeping face and the white veil on her arm, Zhen Jiancheng felt a mix of emotions. As the emperor, he was used to controlling the overall situation and protecting the people, but at this moment he was unable to protect her. What horrified him even more was the panic and anger he felt when he saw her in danger.
He instinctively reached out to smooth her slightly furrowed brows, but abruptly withdrew his hand just as his fingertips were about to touch her.
Huairou slowly woke up and met his clear gaze. Her eyes instantly lit up with surprise: "Jiancheng-jun, you're awake!" She hurriedly got up, but the movement aggravated the wound on her arm, causing her to hiss softly.
"Don't move!" His voice was hoarse with pain and urgency. "How are you? Does it still hurt?" He tried to prop himself up to check.
"I'm fine, really." Huairou quickly pressed his uninjured left shoulder, her tone filled with unwavering determination. "Jiancheng is seriously injured, you must not act rashly." She turned around and brought over the medicine that had been kept warm, sat down by the bed, scooped up a spoonful, carefully blew on it to cool it, and brought it to his lips.
Zhen Jiancheng was slightly taken aback. He opened his mouth as instructed, and the bitter medicine went down his throat, but because of her focused gaze, he found it somewhat sweet.
"Yesterday, thank you so much, Jiancheng, for saving me with your life." Huairou whispered as she fed him the medicine, her voice slightly choked. "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have suffered such a severe injury."
Zhen Jiancheng gazed at her lowered eyelashes, his heart softening, but his tone remained steady: "Investigating cases is my duty, and bringing you into danger was already wrong. Protecting you is my responsibility." He paused slightly, his gaze falling on the white gauze on her arm, his voice unconsciously lowering, "But you, you've suffered this injury for no reason. Does it still hurt?"
Huairou gently shook her head, looked up at him, and a faint but genuine smile appeared on her lips: "Compared to Jiancheng Jun, this injury is nothing to worry about." She hesitated for a moment, her voice almost inaudible, "Seeing you injured... I..." Before she could finish her sentence, her meaning was clear.
Zhen Jiancheng's heartstrings twitched slightly. Her unfinished words, the blush on her cheeks, moved him more than any straightforward words. He looked at her with deep eyes, and the room fell silent for a moment, with only the sound of their breathing, and an ambiguous feeling quietly flowed in the fragrance of medicine.
The time spent recuperating slowly unfolded in this secluded courtyard. Despite her arm injury, Huairou insisted on taking care of Zhen Jiancheng's daily life and changing his dressings. Zhen Jiancheng, though seriously injured, kept his eyes on her, paying close attention to the healing of her arm. When she changed his dressings, his brows furrowed even more tightly than hers.
That day, Huairou changed his dressing and noticed that his muscles were stiff and his blood circulation was poor due to prolonged bed rest. She instinctively applied modern rehabilitation knowledge. "Jiancheng, once your condition stabilizes, you might try some gentle activities, such as slowly stretching the uninjured limbs to promote blood circulation and aid recovery," she said. As she spoke, she naturally used the heel of her hand, through his thin undergarment, to gently massage several acupoints on his lower back. Although her technique was unprofessional, it carried a line of thinking quite different from current medical principles.
Zhen Jiancheng's body stiffened slightly; this was the first time Huairou had touched him proactively. He then slowly relaxed under the perfectly applied pressure. He had practiced martial arts since childhood and was skilled in health preservation, but he had never heard of this method before. The touch, transmitted through his clothing, carried the coolness and softness of a woman's fingertips, relieving the stiffness and pain more effectively than any medicine. A hint of surprise and inquiry flashed in his eyes: "This method… is truly remarkable. I wonder where Huairou learned it? It seems quite different from the techniques used by the Imperial Hospital."
Huairou's movements froze abruptly, her heart pounding. Oh no! In a moment of carelessness, she'd used a concept from modern physical therapy. Since transmigrating to this era, she had always been cautious and careful, trying her best to adapt, afraid of giving herself away. Now, facing his sharp and curious gaze, she hurriedly lowered her eyes, her long eyelashes trembling, and blurted out, "It's...it's something I figured out myself while browsing through various books. I thought that lying down for too long would be bad for my energy, and that moving my muscles and bones would be good, so...so I tried it."
Zhen Jiancheng had an excellent physique, a result of his years of martial arts training and early experience leading troops in battle. Now, having finished dressing, he gazed at her slightly flushed earlobes and her noticeably hesitant tone. A slight suspicion arose in his heart, but he didn't delve into it. He only felt that her flustered appearance at this moment, compared to her usual dignified demeanor, added a touch of charming naiveté. A barely perceptible smile curved his lips as he readily agreed, "I see. Huairou is very thoughtful."
After that, Huairou became even more careful, yet subtle differences still lingered. She insisted on keeping the wound clean and dry, and always washing it carefully with warm saline solution before changing dressings, rather than relying solely on wound medicine. She would also offer dietary advice, explaining which foods were beneficial for muscle regeneration and which should be avoided temporarily, providing clear and logical guidance.
On one occasion, seeing that Zhen Jiancheng had been reading official documents for too long and looked tired, she said softly, "Jiancheng, your eyesight is failing and you need to rest. How about... I play a game of chess with you to change your mood?" She suggested chess, rather than the popular games of pitch-pot or backgammon among the nobility at the time, because chess requires more concentration and is actually another form of relaxation therapy.
Zhen Jiancheng looked up from the file, gazed into her clear, smiling eyes, and his heart stirred. He nodded in agreement.
The chessboard was set up, and black and white pieces were placed. Huairou's chess style was agile and unconventional, often employing unexpected moves that required even Zhen Jiancheng, who was accustomed to courtly strategies, to concentrate. After a few games, he indeed felt much of the mental strain dissipate and couldn't help but praise, "Huairou's chess skills are exquisite, and his thinking is novel, truly refreshing."
Huairou smiled and placed a piece on the board: "It's just a trivial skill. It's enough to ease Jiancheng's fatigue for a while." The thoughtfulness in her words and the wisdom that transcended her time touched Zhen Jiancheng's heart time and time again.
On another occasion, Huairou picked some mint and mugwort in the courtyard, washed them, and placed them indoors. "These things have a refreshing and calming effect, and help with sleep," she explained, her natural manner making it seem like an ordinary thing.
As Zhen Jiancheng inhaled the crisp scent and watched her slender figure bustling about in the sunlight, an unprecedented sense of peace and contentment filled his heart. He increasingly felt that the woman beside him was like an inexhaustible book; just when he thought he had grasped the whole picture, a new chapter would unfold.
As night deepened, the two often sat facing each other on the stone bench in the courtyard. The moonlight, like water, poured down on Huairou's pale pink dress, as if casting a soft glow over her.
"Although the clues regarding the Yongzhou matter are clear, the Lu family and the Second Prince have deep roots, and it may be difficult to shake them in one fell swoop." Zhen Jiancheng looked at the crescent moon on the eaves, his tone solemn.
Huairou held a cup of warm tea and said softly, "Evil cannot prevail over good. As long as the evidence is conclusive and we proceed step by step, the clouds will eventually part. However... Jiancheng, the road back to the capital will likely be even more treacherous."
"Mm." He responded, turning to look at her, his gaze as deep as the night sea. "No matter what storms lie ahead, Huairou, I will protect you thoroughly." These words transcended the promise of a subject, carrying a vow unspoken.
Huairou felt a warmth in her heart as she met his gaze. Under the moonlight, his handsome face, though weary from his injuries, possessed a steadfast and unwavering demeanor that only deepened his allure. She trusted him, and smiled gently, her eyes gleaming with a light that spoke volumes.
More than ten days later, their injuries gradually stabilized. Zhen Jiancheng's shoulder injury scabbed over, allowing him to move around a little. With the situation pressing, the two were about to return to the capital.
On the eve of his departure, Huairou changed his dressing one last time. Her fingertips lightly touched the gruesome scar on his back, a pang of sorrow welling up inside her. Zhen Jiancheng noticed her low spirits and asked gently, "What's wrong?"
Huairou felt a pang of heartache, but feigned nonchalance: "You won't look good anymore..."
Zhen Jiancheng turned around, his gaze calmly encompassing her: "So, I used to think you were quite beautiful..." He looked up, questioning the young woman before him with his eyes. Huairou looked up at him, and in his eyes was a tenderness she had never seen before, along with a deep, restrained emotion. The two were extremely close, their breaths mingling, the air filled with the scent of medicine and her faint, sweet fragrance.
At that moment, a sudden surge of affection welled up within her, but she quickly looked away, silently reminding herself not to let her mind wander. Unfortunately, Jian Chengjun was too much like her ideal partner; Huairou was like Moli. Although Moli was simple-minded and upright, she had lived for over thirty years and wouldn't easily fall for anyone again. Judging by his age, Jian Chengjun was likely married, and she would never interfere in someone else's marriage. Torn between moral and emotional turmoil, she reminded herself that she was only worried about his safety and owed him a life-saving debt.
The next day, the carriages and horses were ready. Looking back at the villa, the osmanthus blossoms in the courtyard were fragrant, exuding a refreshing and delightful aroma.
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