The wind howled and rain poured down in torrents, lightning splitting the sky with thunderous cracks.
Amidst the tempest, a frail figure trudged forward, step by laborious step, carrying a tall man on her back. The mud clung to her feet, making each movement a struggle.
Chu Ruoyan had never imagined Yan Zheng would be this heavy…
He always appeared slender, just a bit taller than most, yet his weight was unexpectedly substantial.
She couldn’t fully lift him—only let him slump over her back while she gripped his hands, half-dragging, half-carrying him forward…
BOOM!
The thunder roared as if tearing the heavens apart. Chu Ruoyan felt the man on her back stir slightly.
"Yan Zheng, are you awake?" she asked urgently.
After a long pause, a faint murmur came: "Mn…"
"Good! Then hold on—we’re almost at the Western Mountain Camp!"
They weren’t far now. Before the rain had started, she’d already glimpsed the military tents in the distance.
Afraid he might slip back into unconsciousness, she pressed, "What should we do once we reach the camp?"
Yan Zheng’s mind was already foggy. Whatever had been mixed into that ephedra powder left his thoughts sluggish, his focus scattered. Yet, hearing her question, he forced himself to summon the last dregs of clarity.
If he didn’t explain, his Ah-Yan wouldn’t be safe even if they made it there…
"Governor Ling… An Sheng’s people… kill…"
"The tiger tally… mobilize the army… protect His Majesty…"
Chu Ruoyan’s heart clenched at his words, spoken like a final will. "You’re speaking too fast! Slow down—I can’t remember all this!"
Yan Zheng’s mind was already drowning in haze, but at her plea, he repeated himself.
How many times he said it, he didn’t know. By the end, his words had condensed into fragments:
"Ling… An Sheng… kill…"
"Tiger tally… protect His Majesty…"
It became an obsession, chanted over and over, burned into her memory.
Raindrops, thick as beans, pelted her face. Chu Ruoyan couldn’t tell if it was rain or tears she wiped away as she pressed onward.
A distance of five or six li felt endless.
Finally, when the camp gates came into view—THUD!
Her knees buckled, sending her crashing to the ground. Yan Zheng tumbled from her back, landing motionless.
She scrambled toward him, panic clawing at her throat. "Yan Zheng! Yan Zheng?!"
The man’s eyes remained shut, his breaths shallow and fading…
Terror seized her. Without thinking, she pried his mouth open and breathed into it—
But it was useless. Completely useless!
That damned Su Tingyun must have used some vile drug on him. Even his pulse was weakening by the second.
Just as despair threatened to swallow her whole, as if death in this storm would be a mercy—
A playful voice cut through the downpour.
"Little Blind Girl, you’re truly a pitiful sight~"
Chu Ruoyan jerked her head up.
A man in red robes, his hair snow-white, stood atop a carriage, holding an oil-paper umbrella. His lips curled in amusement as he looked down at her.
"Young Master Lang?!"
Hope flared in her chest. "Save him! Please, I beg you—save him!"
Young Master Lang leaped down, mud splattering his pristine boots. He wrinkled his nose in distaste before glancing at Yan Zheng. "Well, well—if it isn’t Chief Minister Yan? How did you end up in such a state?" He waved a hand dismissively. "But saving lives is Old Man Qin’s specialty. This humble master has no—"
His words cut off abruptly.
His expression darkened as he scrutinized Yan Zheng. "Who gave him ‘Qianji Powder’?!"
This was a secret poison from the previous dynasty!
A drug that lured victims into eternal dreams, never to wake again.
And one his mother had brought back from the Western Frontier…
Chu Ruoyan blinked. "Qianji Powder? I thought it was ephedra powder?"
Young Master Lang immediately understood the gravity. Qianji Powder acted swiftly—its victims typically died within half an hour.
That Yan Zheng had lasted this long was nothing short of a miracle.
There was no time to fetch Qin Yiru. Without hesitation, he slashed his wrist with a fingernail. "Open his mouth!"
Chu Ruoyan obeyed, and as the blood dripped onto Yan Zheng’s tongue, his breathing steadied almost instantly.
Young Master Lang’s blood truly was a panacea against all poisons.
Within minutes, Yan Zheng’s eyelids fluttered open. His gaze was dazed at first, but the moment it landed on Young Master Lang, clarity returned. "You?"
Young Master Lang smirked. "Me. I saved your life. Since gratitude is customary, how about you hand over Little Blind Girl as payment—" A glacial glare silenced him. He shrugged. "Fine, fine, just a jest. Now tell me—who gave you Qianji Powder?"
Chu Ruoyan had never heard of it, but Yan Zheng had—his father once mentioned this infamous poison from the fallen dynasty.
Recalling the night’s events, cold fury flashed in his eyes. "A strategist under Su Tingyun… It seems he was being manipulated."
His gaze sharpened on Young Master Lang.
A poison from the previous dynasty… and a descendant of its royal family…
Both bore the mark of the past.
Young Master Lang threw up his hands. "Don’t look at me! I just returned to the capital. Heard rumors of unrest at the Western Mountain Camp and came to spectate. Never expected to stumble upon you two half-dead." He tilted his head. "Weren’t you headed to the camp?"
He’d also heard whispers of An Sheng’s planned coup.
The Murong Family’s affairs? He’d cheer if they all dropped dead.
But a chief minister and a loyalist’s daughter clearly had other plans.
Chu Ruoyan steadied herself. "Yan Zheng, the larger matter takes precedence. I trust him."
That "I trust him" grated on Yan Zheng’s ears. He said coldly, "Yun Lang, I owe no debts. You saved me, so I’ll repay you with a warning—there’s a traitor in your Hundred Knowledge Pavilion."
"A traitor? Impossible—"
Young Master Lang froze.
Now that he thought of it, during his recent mission, someone had always been one step ahead…
His peach-blossom eyes narrowed. "Consider us even."
For an intelligence network, a mole was catastrophic.
Yan Zheng’s tip was invaluable. Without another word, Young Master Lang turned on his heel—Qianji Powder’s origins could wait. The traitor came first.
Meanwhile, in the palace…
The Emperor and Empress sat in the Dowager’s chambers, summoned to explain the banquet incident.
The Dowager’s face twisted at the mention of the Yan Family. "I always knew they were trouble. Thank goodness An Sheng never married Yan Xu."
The Emperor chuckled. "Mother, you’re being unfair. The Grand General is blameless here. Besides, he’s already wed—An Sheng couldn’t have married him regardless."
The Dowager huffed but changed tack. "And you, Empress Pei? Were you injured?"
Empress Pei rose gracefully. "This humble one is unharmed, thanks to Your Majesty’s concern."
The Dowager nodded, then shot the Emperor a pointed look. "You ought to visit the Empress more often. I’ve heard how she risked her life for you."
Empress Pei flushed, but the Emperor only waved a hand. "I’m aware."
The Pei woman had been chosen for him by the late emperor, but he had never favored such a dignified and composed type of woman. Instead, he preferred someone like Consort Xue—delicate and devoted. Unfortunately, the Pei family held too much influence, and the position of Empress was untouchable. Otherwise, he would have elevated Consort Xue to the throne—after all, wouldn’t she have shielded him from harm just the same?
Lost in these thoughts, Yin Shun announced, "Your Majesty, Consort Xue and the Princess have arrived..."
The emperor brightened. "Bring them in at once!"
Moments later, An Sheng entered, supporting Consort Xue by the arm.
Yet, for some reason, Consort Xue’s face was deathly pale...
