Chu Ruoyan took a moment to process what her sister meant by "the fish."
"You mean that night's...?"
Chu Ruolan nodded eagerly, and Chu Ruoyan immediately stood up. "Let's go!"
Lanxin Garden.
Chun He stood guard at the door, trembling with fear, when she suddenly saw the young mistress leading the elder sister inside.
Chu Ruoyan instructed, "Nanny Zhou, you and Yulu stay here. If anyone comes, alert us immediately. Understood?"
The two acknowledged, and only then did the sisters enter the room.
Inside, the scent of incense and blood had mingled into an indescribably strange odor.
Chu Ruoyan lifted the curtain and was stunned to see a figure lying face-down on the bed, tightly bound.
Beside her, Chu Ruolan huffed, "This scoundrel has a foul mouth! He dared say I wasn’t good enough for that fool Han Zhiyuan. I was so furious I gagged him, and then tied him up to make sure he wouldn’t escape. Now there’s no way he’ll slip away!"
Chu Ruoyan inwardly agreed—tying him up was the right call!
This Yan Xiaoliu was as slippery as an eel. If they didn’t restrain him, he’d vanish again in no time!
She reached out and turned him over. His phoenix eyes, so much like Yan Zheng’s, burned with hatred as they locked onto her.
"Mmph! Mmph!"
He struggled violently, trying to speak. Chu Ruolan smirked triumphantly. "Hah! Now you know how it feels to be silenced! Serves you right for gagging me in the carriage last time. This is karma!"
His struggles only intensified, reopening his wounds. Blood seeped out in alarming amounts.
Chu Ruoyan quickly intervened. "Enough. Let him speak."
Reluctantly, Chu Ruolan yanked the gag from his mouth. The first words he spat out were, "Just kill me!"
Chu Ruolan flinched in shock.
Had she been that brutal? Did she really make him want to die...?
But Chu Ruoyan frowned. "Why would you say that?"
He sneered. "Spare me the crocodile tears, eldest daughter of the Chu family—or should I say, County Princess Changle? You and Yan Zheng are two of a kind, scheming together. Don’t think I don’t know!"
Chu Ruoyan immediately realized he must have misunderstood something.
She glanced sideways and said calmly, "Third Sister, step outside for a moment."
Chu Ruolan, who treated her words as sacred, cast one last uneasy look at the man before leaving.
Now alone, Chu Ruoyan pulled up a pearwood chair and sat down. "Let me tend to your wounds first."
"No need!"
His refusal was firm. She sighed and studied him. "You’re the sixth son of the Yan family, Yan Zhao, aren’t you?"
Yan Zhao scoffed. "A true man owns his actions. Why wouldn’t I admit it? I am Yan Zhao!"
Her heart steadied, and she softened her tone. "Young Master Yan, if you’re alive, why haven’t you returned to the Yan household?"
"The Yan household? Which Yan household?" He laughed bitterly, as if she’d told a great joke. "My parents and brothers are all dead. My grandmother was driven out, and my fifth sister-in-law was sent back to her family. Is that still the Yan household? No—it’s the residence of the Marquis of Anning now!"
The hatred in his voice was chilling, especially when he spoke of his family’s deaths.
If Yan Zheng heard this, who knew how he’d react?
Chu Ruoyan took a deep breath. "You’ve seen your grandmother?"
Yan Zhao stiffened and turned away, refusing to answer.
But she already understood. She clenched her teeth.
That old woman was nothing but trouble, fanning flames instead of dousing them!
Yan Zhao continued, "It doesn’t matter what she told me. Yan Zheng’s crimes are plain to see! My eldest brother treated him like kin, gave him everything—even his life—and in return, he got a wolf in sheep’s clothing!"
"Enough!"
Chu Ruoyan couldn’t hold back her rebuke, but Yan Zhao only laughed bitterly. "Am I wrong? Need I list his sins? He’s even gone so far as to acknowledge his enemy as his mother! Does he still consider himself a Yan?!"
The words struck like lightning.
Chu Ruoyan gasped. "What did you say? Acknowledge his enemy as his mother? How do you know this?"
The matter of Princess Ansheng was a tightly guarded secret. Aside from Granny Sun, only she, Yan Zheng, and Meng Yang knew of it!
How had Yan Zhao found out?
"You ask how I know? Of course—you’d wish none of the Yan family knew! But this entire tragedy, from start to finish, was orchestrated by Yan Zheng’s own mother! My father, my mother, my three brothers, and the hundred thousand Yan soldiers—their blood debt will be repaid by my own hands!"
Every word dripped with anguish. Chu Ruoyan was stunned speechless.
Then—click. A sound from above.
"Who’s there?"
Her head snapped up just as several black-clad figures dropped from the rafters.
Outside, Nanny Zhou and Chun He had already been knocked unconscious. Only Chu Ruolan remained, rushing in fearfully. "Elder Sister, there are intruders!"
No sooner had she spoken than a spiked iron mace hurtled toward the back of her skull.
Chu Ruoyan lunged forward, but Yan Zhao’s furious shout cut through the air. "Don’t kill her!"
The mace veered midair, as if guided, and flew back to its wielder.
Catching her sister, Chu Ruoyan looked up. A dozen towering figures stood at the door, clad in black with faces masked—but their curly brown hair betrayed their origins.
Her heart sank. Southern barbarians.
The leader, gripping the mace, ignored the Chu sisters entirely, his gaze fixed on Yan Zhao. "Consort, you’ve led us on quite the chase."
Consort?
Chu Ruoyan turned in shock. Yan Zhao had already freed himself and stood tall.
His clothes were soaked in blood, his left arm twisted unnaturally behind him—yet he showed no pain. With his remaining hand, he slowly peeled off a disguise—
"Good heavens!"
Chu Ruolan gasped. Chu Ruoyan pressed her lips together tightly.
His face, bearing some resemblance to Yan Zheng’s but younger, now bore the Southern barbarians’ blue wolf tattoo on his left cheek. His loosely curled brown hair cascaded down, marking him as one of them.
The black-clad men pressed fists to their chests in unison. "Hail the Consort!"
The mace-wielder spoke again. "Consort, the Young Khan has ordered your return."
Yan Zhao remained silent.
The man lowered his voice, switching to their tongue. "Consort, have you forgotten those waiting for you in the south?"
A tremor ran through Yan Zhao. Hatred flashed in his eyes. "Fine. I’ll go with you. But you spare them."
He pointed at the Chu sisters. The mace-wielder nodded. "Agreed."
As Yan Zhao passed Chu Ruoyan, he whispered, "I know what you’re thinking. Call me a traitor, a coward—it doesn’t matter. The Yan family’s blood debt will be repaid by my own hands."
With that, he followed the Southern barbarians out.
But just as they reached the courtyard, an icy voice cut through the night.
"Oh? And how do you plan to repay it?"
Everyone froze. Under the cold moonlight, Yan Zheng sat in his wheelchair, draped in a black cloak.
His gaze was frost, his presence unshakable—a shadow behind him, motionless yet towering like a mountain.
Yan Zhao’s pupils constricted. He gritted out the name like a curse.
"Yan... Zheng."
