Chapter 60 It's You Again How Can I Predict This
She quickly stepped back, hunched her back, and slammed herself against the wall of the carriage, which was covered with a snow-white leather mattress. This caused the gilded incense burner hanging from the roof to sway a few times, and the thin smoke from the frankincense curled and twisted.
Her thoughts were in turmoil.
"You you you—I I—this this this—!"
Qing Guiyu was so frightened that he stammered. He grabbed the bamboo flute from the side and pointed it up and down at him, wishing he could turn his face out of the car.
Having practiced medicine for many years and knowing the principles of medicine is one thing. Having examined the human body and diagnosed all kinds of diseases is another.
But looking at this troublemaker young man with a red face and a lively look in his arms, it was a completely different matter, as if the sky was falling and the earth was splitting apart!
What's more, the damn medical skills deep in her memory also started to clamor at an inopportune time, coldly reminding her that for the physical contact just now, this time, she was probably, probably, really... responsible!
Qing Guiyu was so regretful that his hairs almost stood on end. He knocked hard on the bottom of the car with his bamboo flute, trying to squeeze out some momentum and logic from his incoherent speech.
"You...you, are you..."
A flash of inspiration! A lifeline. "Intentional? Shen Juansheng, are you plotting against me again?!"
"You're using human lives to threaten me again, aren't you?" Qing Guiyu regained some of his normal reaction, but his voice was still much sharper than usual.
"You, you knew all along, were you the one who arranged these people?! Design! Trap! Dirty, despicable, despicable tactics!"
Shen Juansheng froze in place. The crimson flush that had lingered across his face, ears, and even neck quickly faded. His usually calm, beautiful face, always tinged with a touch of morbid allure, gradually lost its last trace of color.
As if a sharp knife had pierced his lungs, he suddenly arched his back and began to cough violently.
Her body leaned forward uncontrollably, and she had to press her slender fingers against her lips tightly, with a few drops of blood dripping between her fingers.
"No...cough!"
He spoke urgently between coughs, but only managed two words before being cut off by a violent cough. He hastily turned his head, his back heaving under his dark sleeves.
A few strands of black hair fell in front of her, shaken by the force of her coughing and wheezing, sweeping across the end of her bamboo flute that was frozen in the air.
Qing Guiyu was completely shocked by his miserable and embarrassed appearance, and the embarrassment he had just felt was frozen by this sudden change.
It's not right to let go of the hand holding the bamboo flute - it seems guilty; nor is it right to keep it in - it seems too aggressive.
The smoke of storax was disturbed and spread along with the smell of blood.
"No calculation..." He finally took a breath with difficulty, barely stopping the heart-wrenching cough. When his sleeves were removed, his lips were stained with blood, and his eyelashes trembled rapidly.
"I... ahem... how can I calculate this..."
His voice was low and hoarse, the last syllable swallowed by the newly surged blood. He coughed twice more in embarrassment, his free hand clutching the snow-white wolfskin mattress beneath him, pulling out the messy folds.
"Miss Qing...it..." Shen Yan said in despair, as if he couldn't accept what he was about to say.
The pair of peach blossom eyes that were usually covered with ice mist were now sparkling with embarrassment and self-loathing anxiety.
"It, it doesn't listen to me either."
He covered his forehead, and blood slid down the hanging gold threads.
Absurd, bluntly.
Not only did he shudder at the sound of his voice, but he also shocked Qing Guiyu completely.
This was probably the most indecent, unseemly, and unlike-what-he-should-say thing ever said by this strategist, who was always known for his sharp words and meticulous planning.
There was Chen Juansheng, the master of Tianji Pavilion who was famous for his meticulous planning, and Young Master Jinsheng, who wore a black robe with golden thread and was feared by everyone in the world.
There are probably thousands of ways to cleverly avoid this embarrassing situation.
But he was like a peacock that was drenched by a sudden rainstorm, with all its feathers wet.
Qing Guiyu quickly pressed the end of the bamboo flute against his lower lip, trying to suppress the absolutely inappropriate smile, but his shoulders couldn't help shaking slightly.
He looked at her, bewildered at first, and then a deeper blush, almost as if bleeding, quickly emerged on his bloodless face. Even the red mark at the corner of his eye, which was caused by needlework, seemed to be ignited by this embarrassment and became bright and tempting.
Cracks appeared on the glass statue of the beautiful woman, and she finally turned her head away, not looking at her. She covered her lips with a hand wrapped in gold and stained with blood.
"I..." Shen Yansheng seemed to want to explain something.
"Is it funny?" In the end, only a muffled sound escaped from between her fingers, causing her drooping hair and golden thread to tremble. "Miss Qing... think... it's funny?"
Qing Guiyu had to pause, cleared his throat, and clenched the bamboo flute in his hand, "Ahem... no..." He tried hard not to sound gloating, "It's funny. Shen Tianji."
"If you don't have any determination, why are you pretending to be deeply in love?"
Hearing her say this, Shen Juansheng lowered his head and remained silent. After a long time, he seemed to calm down a little. Biting his lip, he finally said, "If Miss Qing likes it, that's great too."
His face was still red, his eyelashes trembling, and he said softly, "If, if Miss Qing is worried, Shen Juansheng, get off the car right now..."
As he spoke, he actually supported himself on the car wall with one hand and tried to stand up with difficulty. His posture was so weak that it seemed as if he would fall down at any time.
Qing Guiyu raised a hand and signaled him not to speak.
Perhaps the noise in the car was too loud, and the disgusting discussions outside the car started again, even more explicit than before, directly pointing out that she was "clever".
This was unbearable. The nameless anger in my heart, which had just been suppressed, suddenly surged up again.
She turned around and glanced coldly at Chen Juansheng, who was about to stand up, his face pale and shaky, then raised her hand to open the curtain a little, reached for the needle bag at her waist, and picked out a few golden needles.
With a flip of his wrist, he gathered the soft power of the Qing Nang Jue on his fingertips, and the golden needle flew out in the direction where the voice was the noisiest and the words were the most vulgar.
The sound of breaking through the air was so subtle that it was almost inaudible, and was drowned out by the sound of the wind and horse hooves outside the carriage.
Only Young Master Jin Sheng in the car felt the momentary disturbance of the airflow and turned his head slightly.
"Ah!" A short cry of pain suddenly came from outside the car, followed by suppressed gasps and low curses.
The cavalryman, pierced by the needle, felt a sharp sting on the side of his neck, followed by a momentary numbness on half his body. He drooled uncontrollably, and his speech became slurred. Horrified, he touched the stinging area, but felt nothing, only a rapidly swelling, numb and itchy area.
"Shut up! Silence!" the leading sergeant shouted, glancing suspiciously at the closed carriage. The carriage remained silent, as if nothing had happened. But this strange situation, coupled with the name of Young Master Jinsheng, sent a chill down the spines of every cavalryman. No one dared to utter a single obscenity, even their breathing was deliberately quiet.
"Did you see that?" Qing Guiyu turned around and asked. The flurry of activity from Young Master Jin Sheng and the comforting silence outside had made her feel a little better. Giving these fools a small punishment was quite satisfying.
"This account," she stared at Chen Juansheng, "will all be blamed on you, Master Jinsheng, from now on."
"Yes." Shen Juansheng had regained his composure without anyone noticing. Although his face remained pale and blood still stained his lips, his fragile and broken aura had largely subsided. He had regained his usual gentle demeanor. "Although I may not be able to believe it... I will definitely be ruthless."
Qing Guiyu was speechless for a moment and could only shake his head.
"So you don't have to get out of the car, but if there are any strange movements or... uncontrollable reactions,"
She shook the golden needle and said, "Chen Juansheng, I'm afraid you must be pure and abstain from desire from now on—I can't say for sure."
"Yeah." Young Master Jinsheng met her gaze and nodded slowly.
He stretched out his finger and slowly wiped the blood from his lips. He spoke softly and calmly, "I have been pure and unselfish for many years."
The wind in the north is much colder than that in Yuzhou City. It is almost early summer in the prosperous south, and everything is lush and green, but in this bitterly cold northern border, it is only equivalent to the wind in late autumn in Yuzhou in October.
The carriage stopped at the edge of a small town outside a leeward valley, and the Helan tribe set up camp on a relatively open slope.
Qing Guiyu pulled up the curtains and was alone with Shen Juansheng in the carriage. His silent but omnipresent, oppressive temptation was really a headache.
"I'm going out for some fresh air." She said this, without waiting for Shen Juansheng's response, and without paying attention to the curious and fearful gazes of the Northern Frontier soldiers outside, she got out of the warm carriage.
She had never been this far north. The scene before her was strange and desolate. The town's houses were generally low, built of heavy stone and mud, even the eaves seemed tilted by the wind. The sun was hidden behind the misty clouds, a dim speck of light imprinted on the sky, clearing away the layers of turbidity from the air.
The curtain of the carriage fell behind her, but in just a moment, the heavy curtain was once again lifted from the inside by a pale, slender hand, and the dark robe fluttered in the sudden and sharp wind from the north.
Shen Juansheng followed out silently.
This land was clearly even more desolate and dilapidated than the Southern Dynasty she was familiar with. Seeing some northerners in thick robes, their eyes numb and wary, passing by the market town, her heart was moved.
She recalled the time when war ravaged the heartland of the Southern Dynasty many years ago. Even children from wealthy lands like her were forced to face death one by one.
So how did the people of this land survive at that time?
"Shen Yansheng," she suddenly asked, "Who is the noble person that Beichao wants to save his life?"
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