"Help—"
The silent scream escaped Yun Wan's lips—in moments of extreme terror, the voice often fails.
Dragged into the alley and swallowed by shadows, Yun Wan felt as if she had plunged into an icy abyss, her blood freezing in her veins. Fear gripped her entirely.
A chilling sensation, like a venomous serpent, coiled around her wrist, its cold scales pressing against her skin. She shuddered violently.
Her body stiffened, not daring to move. With a trembling voice, she demanded, "W-Who are you? What do you want?"
"This is the capital, right under the Emperor's nose! My home is nearby, and my husband serves in the yamen. If you dare harm me, they will never let you go!"
Her mind raced, her tone a mix of sternness and thinly veiled threat.
The person behind her remained silent, save for that faint, almost imperceptible chuckle earlier—so faint that Yun Wan began to wonder if she had encountered something supernatural.
And today, of all days, was the Cold Food Festival.
But the hand gripping her was undeniably warm, and the shadow on the ground confirmed it belonged to a tall, grown man.
Her heart sank. This man was impossible to reason with—likely a hardened criminal, the kind who would stop at nothing.
"If you let me go, I’ll pretend this never happened. I—I have some silver on me, you can take it all..."
Her voice softened as she negotiated with the assailant, while her free hand subtly rose.
Seemingly swayed by her words, the man shifted, his shadow swaying with him.
Feeling the grip on her wrist loosen, Yun Wan seized the moment—she threw a sharp elbow backward, heard a muffled groan, and broke free, sprinting forward.
But the man reacted faster, his long strides closing the distance in an instant, trapping her once more.
This time, Yun Wan struggled desperately, fighting with all her might to escape the brute.
Yet the disparity in strength between men and women was insurmountable, and exhaustion had already drained her. Her resistance was futile.
In a final act of defiance, she yanked the jade hairpin from her bun and thrust it toward the man’s throat—
The white jade gleamed under the moonlight, its sharp tip flashing coldly.
Half an inch from his Adam’s apple, the hairpin froze mid-air.
A powerful hand clamped around her wrist, rendering her attack harmless.
Despair flooded Yun Wan’s heart.
Then, a low, amused voice sounded above her: "Madam Lu is quite fierce."
The familiar tone made her snap her head up.
Just then, the clouds parted, and moonlight spilled onto the earth, illuminating the man’s face—cold, chiseled, and godlike in its severity.
Yun Wan gaped. "Y-Your Majesty? Why... why is it you?"
Her wide eyes, still trembling with fear, reflected sheer disbelief.
Emperor Jingxuan tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on her startled expression—her dark pupils mirroring his own image with perfect clarity.
"Why not?" he replied, his lips quirking in an inscrutable smile.
His fingers trailed up her wrist, calloused fingertips brushing over her knuckles, between her fingers, before finally prying the "weapon" from her grasp.
Yun Wan stared at him blankly. "If it’s you, why didn’t you say anything earlier? I thought you were... a criminal..."
The adrenaline of near-death faded, and the tension in her heart snapped. Confusion gave way to overwhelming grievance.
Tears welled up, spilling like broken pearls. Her eyes reddened, and the last of her strength vanished—she slumped to the ground, hugging her knees, and burst into loud, unrestrained sobs.
"Waaah—"
In just one afternoon, Yun Wan had been terrified half to death—first witnessing a murder, then a fire, losing her maid, rescuing someone, and now nearly dying at the hands of a supposed assailant. She had even prepared her final words.
Only to discover this "assailant" was none other than Emperor Jingxuan, the sovereign who ruled from the imperial palace!
Not a shred of relief came to her—instead, she only grew more indignant.
Her cries grew louder, her shoulders shaking as she buried her face in her knees, whimpering like a wounded animal, as if the world had wronged her beyond measure.
The warmth of his grip vanished, replaced by the sound of her hiccupping sobs—an unmistakable accusation.
Emperor Jingxuan fell silent, an uncharacteristic discomfort flickering across his stern face.
Truly a mother’s daughter—how could this woman cry so easily?
He watched the small, crumpled figure on the ground, his lips pressing into a thin line.
"Stop crying," he muttered stiffly.
Yun Wan ignored him, her wails only intensifying.
Even if he was the Emperor, he had no right to forbid someone from crying when they were distressed!
He was the one who scared her first—if he wanted to punish her, so be it!
The sound of a woman weeping echoed eerily through the night. A passerby outside the alley paused, puzzled, then paled and hurried away, tightening his robes.
Rumors said a corpse had been found in Anyi Ward—had the ghost already begun haunting the streets?
Emperor Jingxuan found himself at a loss.
Rolling the jade hairpin between his fingers, he finally spoke, his voice cool: "If you keep crying, Madam, you’ll have to find your own way home."
The sobbing ceased instantly. Yun Wan lifted her head. "Your Majesty will escort me back?"
Her face was tear-streaked, eyes glistening, cheeks flushed pink, brows slightly furrowed. The tears had left her skin luminous, like polished jade—delicate and flawless.
Her voice, soft and honeyed, still carried the thickness of tears, the end of her words dragging sweetly, like syrup.
Emperor Jingxuan’s throat moved. He lowered his gaze. "There is no 'Your Majesty' here. Only 'Seventh Lord.'"
Yun Wan blinked, then understood—this was an incognito outing. He must be using an alias.
"Seventh Lord," she called obediently, her voice still thick, sweet and tender.
A sudden gust of wind swept through the alley, drying the tear tracks on her face.
Her skin itched slightly, and she rubbed her cheeks.
When she lowered her hand, Emperor Jingxuan had already turned away, the intricate embroidery on his robes shimmering faintly, exuding opulence.
Just as she hesitated, he glanced back, impatience in his tone: "Why are you standing there? Follow me."
"Oh."
The thought of riding in his carriage lifted her spirits slightly.
She scrambled to her feet—only for darkness to cloud her vision. Gasping, she braced herself against the wall until the dizziness passed.
Then she felt a piercing gaze.
Looking up, she met the Emperor’s eyes—tall and imposing, waiting in silence.
Once steadied, she gathered her skirts and hurried after him.
Following Emperor Jingxuan through the alley and around a corner, she suddenly found herself on a broad, unfamiliar street.
At the junction stood a grand carriage—its golden canopy gleaming, its walls crafted from precious nanmu wood, its windows adorned with intricate gilded patterns that shimmered like flowing water.
Beside it stood Jiang Fusheng, disguised but unmistakable in his poise.
Spotting them, he smiled. "Seventh Lord. Madam Lu."
Yun Wan nodded politely. "Eunuch Jiang."
Emperor Jingxuan boarded first. Yun Wan followed.
For someone of Emperor Jingxuan's stature, stepping onto the carriage required nothing more than a simple lift of the leg. But for Yun Wan, it was a considerable challenge.
Seeing her struggle, the young eunuch driving the carriage immediately knelt and pressed himself flat against the ground. "Lady Lu," he said, "you may step on this servant's back to board. Rest assured, I won’t let you fall."
Yun Wan instinctively took a step back, waving her hand in refusal. "N-no, that won’t be necessary. I’ll manage on my own."
She was aware that this was a common practice among the wealthy families of the capital, but Yun Wan couldn’t bring herself to accept it. She neither liked nor approved of stepping on another person to climb into a carriage.
After all, people were people—beings with dignity, not lifeless objects devoid of feelings.
