The capital was drenched in a torrential downpour, yet not a single drop fell near Huguo Temple.
Rolling thunder rumbled ominously through the clouds, mirroring the shock in Mo Zhongcheng’s words: "Fourth Miss said the embezzlement case involves Earl Changlu… Given the Young Master’s temperament, once he learns of it, he would never let him go…"
"So she struck first, trying to kill her own brother?" Even Old Xu, with all his worldly experience, couldn’t help but sneer coldly. "Has she lost her mind? Earl Changlu forged weapons and embezzled military funds—his crimes didn’t just claim the lives of frontline soldiers, but also her parents and three brothers! For the sake of a man, she’s willing to abandon her family’s vengeance?"
Mo Zhongcheng sighed.
Strictly speaking, Fourth Miss wasn’t actually a member of the Yan family.
She and Fifth Young Master Yan Heng were both adopted. Their fathers had died one after another on the battlefield, their mothers perishing—one by suicide, the other by illness. Lady Xie, pitying them, had taken them in and raised them as her own.
Chu Ruoyan thought of this too, her gaze growing increasingly pained as she looked at Yan Zheng.
She had heard from Steward Fang that Yan Zheng had never been favored growing up. Aside from the heir, only this younger sister had occasionally sought him out for conversation.
It wasn’t hard to imagine—a lonely, brooding boy, encountering a sweet and clingy little sister, would inevitably soften with affection.
Perhaps that was why, even after his return, he hadn’t sought her out. He feared causing her trouble in her marital home because of the Yan family’s affairs. Even when she didn’t attend the funeral, he hadn’t blamed her in the slightest.
Yet now, the care she had once shown him had turned into a blade, stabbing straight into his heart.
"Yan Zheng…"
She called his name softly. The man lifted his head, his eyes devoid of life.
It was a look not even the imperial prison or the halls of Fengtian Palace had drawn from him—utterly hollow, as if all warmth had long since drained away.
"Kill them all."
With his command, Shadow’s blade flashed. Before even a few screams could rise, nearly a hundred soldiers fell like wheat before a scythe.
When the swordlight swept toward Mo Zhongcheng, he closed his eyes, baring his neck for the strike.
But the expected pain never came.
He opened his eyes to see the eldest daughter of the Chu family standing protectively in front of him.
Shadow’s blade hovered just an inch from her throat.
Chu Ruoyan showed no fear, her gaze fixed firmly on Yan Zheng. "You can’t kill him!"
Shadow hesitated, looking to Yan Zheng for direction.
The man’s eyes flickered, but his voice remained cold. "Step aside."
"You can’t kill him! If he dies, who will testify against Yan Shu?"
Yan Zheng let out a derisive scoff, as if she’d said something absurd. Old Xu also shook his head with a chuckle. "Don’t worry, young lady. If the Young Master agrees, there are ways to make her pay—"
"And those ways involve Shadow continuing to kill, don’t they?" Chu Ruoyan’s voice rose sharply, her hands trembling beneath her sleeves. "If Earl Changlu stands in your way, kill him. If Yan Shu resists, kill her too. Anyone who obstructs you dies—is that it?"
Yan Zheng lifted his gaze, his dark eyes brimming with bitter mockery. "Should it not be?"
"Those who trusted me are dead. Those I trusted now want me dead… Family, enemies—what’s the difference? Better to end it all."
Not a single word was a lie.
In his dreams, Earl Changlu’s manor had gone up in flames overnight.
All one hundred and twenty-eight souls within, including Yan Shu, perished without exception.
The authorities found footprints outside the gates—the arsonist hadn’t fled immediately. He had lingered, listening to the screams of despair until the very end…
Chu Ruoyan’s stomach twisted. She had no doubt that after tonight, that same horror would unfold again.
Biting her lip to steady herself, she stepped forward and knelt before him, clasping his hands. "Yan Zheng, wake up. Once the door to slaughter is opened, there’s no turning back. If you trust me, hand this man over to Cao Yang. He will deliver justice fairly!"
Her eyes shimmered like clear water, brimming with earnest plea.
For a moment, his resolve wavered—but then the memory of the flogging in Fengtian Hall flashed through his mind. His expression hardened. "Oh? And if he fails? If another Marquis of Pingjing emerges? Will you beat the grievance drum again? Endure the rod once more?"
He shoved her hands away, drawing his dagger in one swift motion—straight for Mo Zhongcheng’s throat.
At the last possible second—
A sharp shick!
Chu Ruoyan’s hand closed around the blade.
Blood gushed instantly. Yan Zheng roared, "Have you gone mad?! Let go!"
She didn’t budge, staring stubbornly back at him.
A brief standoff passed before Yan Zheng finally relented. "Fine! I’ll spare him—now release it!"
Chu Ruoyan exhaled in relief. The moment Yan Zheng withdrew the blade, he seized her wrist, inspecting the wound.
A deep gash ran across her pale palm, blood still flowing freely.
"Medicine!" he barked.
Shadow handed over the salve at once. Yan Zheng, inexperienced in treating wounds, dumped the entire bottle onto her palm.
"Ah—!" She hissed in pain, jerking back. "I-I’ll do it myself!"
Retrieving her hand, she carefully spread the powder evenly. Only then did Yan Zheng’s voice, thick with suppressed fury, cut in. "Now it hurts? Where was that bravery earlier?"
(If I hadn’t acted, you’d have walked straight back into the nightmare of your dreams!) she grumbled inwardly. Aloud, she softened her tone. "Lord Yan, Fourth Miss wronged you—that’s on her. But if you abandon yourself because of her, it’s not worth it. Think of the heir’s spirit watching over you. He wouldn’t want to see you like this."
Yan Zheng fell silent.
If that man were still here, he’d surely laugh at him for losing his composure over something like this…
But the bold, hearty face faded, replaced by the gentle features of the woman before him…
"And you?" The question slipped out before he could stop it.
"Me?" Chu Ruoyan blinked, then answered without thinking. "I wouldn’t want to see you like this either. Those who hurt you don’t deserve your heartache—because those who care for you would never wish you pain."
Yan Zheng stilled. A faint warmth seeped into the barren wasteland of his heart.
Since that man’s death, no one had spared a thought for his sorrows or joys.
He’d long since grown numb, nearly forgetting what happiness even felt like.
"Chu… Ruoyan."
Her name on his lips made her pulse skip. His exhausted eyes gleamed faintly as he asked, "If the law failed you—if justice were beyond reach—what would you do?"
Chu Ruoyan’s expression sobered.
In his dreams, that was exactly what had happened.
The imperial family shielded the Marquis of Pingjing. Yan Shu betrayed him for her husband’s sake… Abandoned by all, cornered with no escape, he had overturned the board—dragging the entire capital down into hell with him.
"I don’t know," she admitted honestly.
Faced with such despair, she wasn’t sure she’d have the will to survive either…
"But I believe no matter how dire, there’s always a way. As long as even one person in this world cares for you, you mustn’t give up on yourself."
She meant Yan Wenjing—that cunning little rascal who, like his father, held Yan Zheng in deep regard.
But Yan Zheng misunderstood, his gaze lingering on her face with unsettling intensity. "Is it worth it?"
"Worth isn’t the question. Only whether you’re willing."
In her eyes, that little schemer would gladly move mountains for Yan Zheng—hadn’t he been ready to trade his life for him?
Yan Zheng nodded slowly, as if accepting her words.
Seizing the improved mood, Chu Ruoyan ventured, "Lord Yan, how about a gentleman’s agreement?"
Old Xu’s eye twitched violently.
(A gentleman’s agreement? Since when were you a gentleman?)
Yan Zheng replied, "Very well. What pledge would you like to make?"
Chu Ruoyan drew a sword sheath from her bosom—a wedding gift once given to her by Yan Xun. As the first light of dawn broke, she raised it slowly, the morning glow shimmering across its surface. "Then let this sheath bear witness. No matter what may come in the future, I beg the Marquis of Pingjing not to implicate the innocent!"
Her eyes gleamed, bright as starlight.
The corner of his mouth softened. "Agreed."
He reached out, grasped the sheath, and the vow was sealed.
Chu Ruoyan’s heart settled—until her father’s voice suddenly rang out from behind.
"Agreed? Agreed to what?! What are you two doing? Unhand that this instant!!"
