Chu Ruoyan was no stranger to the sight of blood.
Unlike the delicate maidens of noble households, her father had once hired instructors to teach her martial arts to strengthen her constitution.
But nothing could have prepared her for this.
Wherever her hands touched, she felt only damp warmth...
"Yan—"
Before she could finish, the man's rigid body shifted slightly, followed by a faint, barely audible whisper—the same words as before.
"...Not... dead yet..."
Chu Ruoyan nearly wept with relief, tears she had long held back now spilling freely. "You’re alive... thank heavens you’re alive!"
When that seven- or eight-pound whip had come down earlier, he hadn’t even had the strength to brace against the impact. She had feared he would be beaten to death right there.
Yan Zheng watched as the woman’s delicate, jade-like fingers clung desperately to his bloodied chest, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the flickering candlelight.
A low chuckle escaped him, though it quickly dissolved into a fit of violent coughing. Flecks of blood dotted the back of her hand.
"What’s so funny? How can you laugh at a time like this?"
Her anger only made her more vivid in the dim light, her beauty striking even in distress. For a fleeting moment, Yan Zheng was transfixed—before another wave of coughing wracked him.
"You... should step back..."
Ignoring him, Chu Ruoyan rummaged through her sleeves and produced an assortment of medicines, muttering to herself, "The wound salve won’t do—it’ll be too obvious if applied outside... Ah, the cough suppressant! Take this first!"
She pressed the pill to his lips. After a brief hesitation, Yan Zheng swallowed it. The medicine worked swiftly, easing his breathing within moments.
Chu Ruoyan spoke hurriedly, "I’ll hide the rest of these supplies in the secret compartment. Use them when you can. There’s also bread and dried provisions—enough for days. They’re safer than prison rations."
"Wen Jing and the household are fine. I’ll look after them. You just focus on staying alive, Yan Zheng. You must endure!"
Her words were simple, yet they carried a warmth he hadn’t felt in years—not since his elder brother’s death.
Yan Zheng studied her face intently before nodding slowly. "What of Meng Yang?"
At this, Chu Ruoyan faltered. "He... nearly rushed out earlier, so I had to knock him unconscious..."
Yan Zheng’s brows lifted in surprise—this delicate woman had subdued a warrior like Meng Yang?
Seeing her embarrassed expression, he reassured her, "No matter. You did well."
Just then, footsteps echoed from outside.
Chu Ruoyan tensed. "Is there anything else we can do?"
His gaze sharpened. "Find out who Ajiao contacted after her escape."
She nodded and turned to slip back into the hidden passage—but the newcomer called out, "It’s me!"
Turning, she recognized Cao Yi, who had rushed back the moment Prince Yu’s men departed.
But the sight of the cell left him aghast. "Heavens... they dared to torture him?"
Chu Ruoyan remained silent. Tonight’s events suggested that the Cao family and Prince Yu were not allies.
Cao Yi urged, "Marchioness of Anning, hurry! While Prince Yu is gone, I’ll get you out!"
Chu Ruoyan agreed, "Very well. But there’s a complication—the guard who came with me has fainted..."
"Fainted?"
Cao Yi peered into the hidden compartment and found Meng Yang sprawled stiffly inside.
He blinked in disbelief.
How had the delicate noblewoman remained standing while her battle-hardened escort lay unconscious? Were the Yan men truly this feeble?
Shaking off the thought, he hoisted Meng Yang onto his back. "No matter. Follow me. If questioned, say he collapsed from the sight of blood."
Chu Ruoyan complied. At the cell door, she cast one last glance back.
There, bound to the post and drenched in blood, Yan Zheng met her gaze and gave a faint nod.
Biting her lip, she turned away.
By the time they exited the prison, night had deepened.
Chu Ruoyan directed Cao Yi to load Meng Yang into the carriage before departing.
The jolting ride soon roused Meng Yang. "Young Master!"
Chu Ruoyan replied calmly, "We’ve already left."
Meng Yang’s face paled. Without a word, he flung open the carriage curtain, poised to leap out.
"What are you doing?!"
"I’m going back! Those bastards will kill him!"
"Go ahead," Chu Ruoyan said coolly. "I’ll prepare your coffin. Where would you like to be buried?"
Meng Yang clenched his fists but ultimately slumped back into his seat.
"My lady, you don’t understand. The Ministry of Justice’s prisoners always wear white—yet they forced the Young Master into black robes..."
His voice broke. Chu Ruoyan fell silent.
She knew.
In Great Xia, all convicts wore white.
The black garb had one purpose: to conceal the blood.
"When I saw him today, I knew he’d been tortured... but never like this. My lady, even on the battlefield, surrounded by enemies, he was never this badly wounded!"
Meng Yang’s words were thick with fury. Chu Ruoyan had no reply.
How absurd—a general of Great Xia, most grievously injured not by foes, but by his own countrymen.
After a pause, she said, "Meng Yang, I share your anger. But right now, saving him is what matters."
He took a steadying breath. "What should we do?"
Chu Ruoyan considered. "Ajiao couldn’t have reached the Emperor so quickly without help. Someone facilitated it. As your master said, we must uncover that person—they may not be the mastermind, but they’ll know something."
Meng Yang stood. "Leave it to me."
He stepped out but soon returned, hesitating before producing three sealed letters.
"My lady... before his arrest, the Young Master had me prepare these. You should... read them yourself."
He thrust the letters into her hands and fled.
The first was addressed to Madam Li on behalf of Second Young Master Yan; the second, to Lady Yao—identical in wording save for the names.
But the third—
"In the bond of marriage, love once ran deep, and kindness weighed heavy. Yet fate has made us adversaries, and discord parts us. After our separation, may you adorn yourself anew and wed a man of high station. Let us both find joy apart. I pray you live a thousand years..."
The signature burned her eyes: Yan Zheng.
So Third Yan had even prepared a divorce decree for her!
Had all her tireless efforts these past days meant nothing to him?
From outside, Meng Yang’s timid voice came: "M-my lady... the Young Master said these documents would protect you if disaster struck. The other two... he left to your discretion..."
Thud!
The paper struck the carriage wall. Meng Yang fell silent.
Chu Ruoyan seethed briefly before exhaling.
Cold-hearted? Unfeeling? Yet who but a man of deep care would arrange such safeguards?
By the time they returned to the estate, the household still waited, sleepless with worry.
Chu Ruoyan carefully chose her words to soothe Yan Wenjing into sleep before taking the divorce letter to Madam Li's chamber.
After reading it, Madam Li remained silent for a long while before suddenly asking, "Sister-in-law, is the rumor true? Did Third Yan really... cause their deaths?"
