But even if a woman confined deep within the household had the will, she would never have the means to arrange all this.
Unless Shi Lingyi had someone behind her.
Shi Huai closed his eyes and forced the breath down into his chest.
This was no time to think about that. His most urgent task was finding a way to escape.
He tried tugging at the ropes around his wrists, but they did not budge. The knots had been tied tight, and the more he struggled, the tighter they became. The ropes had already cut his wrists raw, leaving bloody marks.
He tried using his tongue to push out the rag stuffed in his mouth. After two attempts, it remained firmly in place, wedged in far too tightly.
The light coming through the small square opening in the iron door suddenly dimmed, as though something had passed outside.
Shi Huai pricked up his ears. He heard two people speaking beyond the door, their voices kept low and difficult to make out. He could only catch a few scattered words.
“Keep a close watch.”
“Don’t let him escape.”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Trade.”
Trade.
The word pierced Shi Huai’s mind like a needle.
So it really was about money.
But they were not after Shi Huai’s money. Someone else was willing to pay for him.
More precisely, someone had paid these desperadoes to kidnap him.
Leaning against the wall, Shi Huai closed his eyes as countless possibilities raced through his mind.
Who would pay to have him kidnapped?
Madam Liu was confined to Qingzhi Courtyard and had no way to do this.
Shi Lingyi certainly had the motive, but how could she possibly have contacted such ruthless criminals?
Unless someone had helped her.
Someone with the ability, the connections, and the motive to do so.
Another name flashed through Shi Huai’s mind—a person he had always felt was suspicious, though he could never quite put his finger on why.
Suddenly, hurried footsteps sounded outside. They were followed by several muffled grunts and the heavy thuds of bodies hitting the ground.
The iron door was kicked open from outside. It slammed into the wall with a thunderous crash, sending dust sifting down from the walls.
A man in black stood in the doorway. Moonlight poured in behind him, stretching his shadow long across the floor.
Shi Huai narrowed his eyes. With the man standing against the light, his face was impossible to make out; only a blurred outline was visible.
The man strode inside, crouched down, and drew a short knife from his boot. With a single swift motion, he cut through the ropes around Shi Huai’s wrists.
The sound of the blade slicing through the rope rang unusually clearly in the quiet room.
Shi Huai rubbed his purpling wrists, pulled the rag from his mouth, and retched twice before raising his head to look at the man in black.
“Who are you? Who sent you?”
The man said nothing. He rose and stepped back two paces, his gaze lingering on Shi Huai’s face for a moment before he turned and walked out through the iron door.
Shi Huai got to his feet and followed. His legs felt as though he were walking on cotton. He staggered and had to brace himself against the doorframe before he could steady himself.
Three or four men lay sprawled outside, unconscious. Blood stained some of their faces, while the arms of others were twisted at unnatural angles.
Moonlight poured down from above, illuminating the scene in the courtyard.
It was an abandoned yard, overgrown with weeds and in a state of utter ruin. Tall walls enclosed it on all four sides, their surfaces thick with moss.
The man in black stood in the courtyard with his back to Shi Huai, his figure straight and sturdy beneath the moonlight.
“Who are you, exactly? At least let me know whom I should thank.”
Shi Huai’s voice echoed through the empty courtyard.
The man remained silent for a moment. Then he drew a token from his sleeve and held it up briefly. It gleamed coldly in the moonlight, a single character carved into its surface.
Shi Huai could not make out the character, but he recognized the shape and color of the token.
It was the insignia worn by the Crown Prince’s guards.
The Crown Prince’s man.
The man in black put the token away and headed toward the wall. When he reached its base, he paused and said without turning around, “His Highness asked me to tell you that next time you leave, bring more people with you. Don’t give anyone a chance to take advantage of you.”
With that, he leaped upward, caught hold of the top of the wall with both hands, and vaulted over it. His movements were as nimble as a leopard’s. In the blink of an eye, he vanished beyond the wall.
Shi Huai stood where he was, watching the direction in which the man had disappeared, the severed rope still clenched in his hand.
Suddenly, another head appeared above the wall.
It was not the same man in black. This one was shorter and more slender.
He jumped down from the wall, nearly twisting his ankle when he landed. After staggering briefly, he regained his balance and hurried toward Shi Huai.
In the moonlight, his face looked fair and clean. He appeared to be no more than fifteen or sixteen years old. He wore a dark-blue short tunic, a black belt around his waist, and thin-soled boots.
The boy stopped in front of Shi Huai and looked him up and down. His eyes paused on the marks around Shi Huai’s wrists, and his brows drew together.
“Young Master Shi, are you all right? This subordinate arrived too late.”
The boy’s voice still held the hoarseness of adolescence, but the urgency and self-reproach in his tone did not seem feigned.
“And who are you?” Shi Huai leaned against the doorframe and looked at the boy who had seemingly dropped from the sky.
The boy pulled a token from his sleeve and flashed it.
The token was silver, with the character “Shen” engraved upon it.
He was one of Shen Jinghong’s men.
“Young Master Shen ordered us to follow you secretly. He was worried you might run into trouble on the road. We never expected that you really would.”
The boy put the token away, then crouched down to examine the unconscious kidnappers on the ground.
He turned over their hands and inspected their cuffs before standing and dusting off his palms.
“These men are all from the martial world. The kind who take money to do a job. Their employer may not even have told them who he was.”
He turned to look at Shi Huai, pressing his lips together as though choosing his words carefully.
“Young Master Shi, have you offended anyone recently?”
Shi Huai leaned against the doorframe. “I’ve offended plenty of people. Which one are you talking about?”
The boy was briefly rendered speechless by the reply. He was about to say something when another head appeared above the wall.
This time, it belonged to an adult man in his thirties. He had a square, dignified face and sharp eyes. Dressed in a dark-gray short tunic, he wore a short saber at his waist.
He jumped down from the wall, rolled across the ground to absorb the impact, then rose and brushed the dust from his clothes before walking over to Shi Huai.
First he glanced at the unconscious kidnappers on the ground, then at the young man from the Shen family beside him.
His brows drew together slightly.
“Young Master Shi, I am with the Lin family. I have been ordered by my master to protect you in secret.”
He pulled a token from his sleeve. It was jade-green, with the character “Lin” engraved upon it.
The Lin family—Lin Wanqing’s father, Lin Huaiyuan.
Shi Huai looked at the token, unable to name the feeling stirring in his heart.
Lin Huaiyuan had come to propose marriage a few days ago, only to be rejected by him. Yet he had immediately sent people to protect him in secret afterward. Was this genuine concern, or did the man have some other motive?
Under the moonlight, the young man from Shen Jinghong’s side and the man from the Lin family exchanged a look. They saw the same question in each other’s eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
