The night indeed brought a heavy downpour.
Thunder roared amidst the relentless rain, and Sima Qing groggily opened his eyes, only to see a fiercely burning campfire before him.
Pain surged through his entire body. Clenching his jaw, he looked down to find most of his body bare, with faint traces of blood seeping through the bandages on his shoulder.
Propped against the wall, his legs had gone numb from sitting too long. Sima Qing tried to shift his position slightly.
As he braced a hand against the ground, his fingers accidentally brushed against the hilt of a knife.
Sima Qing turned slightly and picked up the short blade.
Memories slowly returned, and sensation gradually came back to his legs. Leaning against the wall, he inched his way toward the campfire.
That Jiu Yue had followed him over the cliff was a development Sima Qing hadn’t anticipated.
His emotions inexplicably tangled, he shook his head slightly—only to notice footsteps mingling with the sound of rain.
Gripping the knife, Sima Qing turned, expecting to see men sent by the emperor. Instead, his eyes met the delicate, lively face of a beauty.
Jiu Yue returned drenched from the rain, water dripping from her entire body. She lingered at the cave entrance for a moment, in no hurry to step inside.
"Awake? How do you feel?" she asked, wringing water from her robes as she spoke.
The flickering firelight laid bare the surprise in Sima Qing’s eyes.
"Why haven’t you left yet?" His gaze drifted to her mud-stained, bloodied robes, their original color long lost.
Once she’d stopped dripping, Jiu Yue wiped her face and walked over to the fire, eyeing Sima Qing with an unreadable expression.
"If I left, what would happen to you?" She frowned at him. "In your condition, I doubt you’d survive alone."
If Sima Qing died, who would she turn to for help against Prince Ping? If he had to die, it had to be after Prince Ping!
Sima Qing was taken aback.
Jiu Yue ignored his stunned silence.
Her robes were now filthy beyond recognition, clinging uncomfortably to her skin. Displeased, she slowly turned her head, her gaze lingering meaningfully on Sima Qing’s outer robe.
"You should’ve waited for me to change before shouting for help," she suddenly remarked.
Sima Qing snapped out of his daze, meeting her pointed look: "…"
Fifteen minutes later—
Sima Qing stood rigidly at the cave entrance, his back to the fire, staring blankly at the rain like a statue.
Behind him, the rustling of fabric signaled Jiu Yue changing clothes.
After shedding her outer layer, she used the fire’s warmth and her own inner energy to dry the thin undergarments. Summer clothing was light, and soon her body felt refreshed. She then happily pulled on Sima Qing’s borrowed outer robe, tightening it around herself.
Rolling up the overly large sleeves and tying the excess length at her waist, Jiu Yue flexed her limbs to ensure freedom of movement before nodding in satisfaction. She turned to call out to the statue by the entrance.
"Done."
Sima Qing gave a noncommittal "Mm," unmoving.
Jiu Yue busied herself with tidying up, only to realize Sima Qing was still standing at the cave mouth. Puzzled, she walked over and found his face covered in raindrops.
"…Do you have some kind of self-torture kink?" Her expression turned complicated.
She’d only asked him to turn around—not to flee to the entrance and offer his face to the rain.
Sima Qing’s eye twitched. "You’re a woman! There must be propriety between men and women. Of course I had to keep my distance while you changed!"
His gaze inadvertently dropped to her exposed calves, and he quickly shut his eyes, repeating solemnly, "Propriety matters."
Jiu Yue: "…"
Her lips twitched.
"It’s not like I stripped completely," she muttered, kicking him impatiently. "Come inside if you don’t want to die. Time to change your bandages."
Sima Qing: "…"
For a moment, he questioned his life choices… before finally sighing and shaking his head.
Youth these days.
Suppressing his discomfort, he returned to the fire and sat quietly on the opposite side.
The medicinal herbs Jiu Yue had gathered along the way were rudimentary—good only for stopping bleeding.
Frowning, she carefully peeled away the blood-soaked cloth bandage—torn from Sima Qing’s own undergarments.
"Your mask is broken. How do you plan to return to Prince Ping’s estate?" Sima Qing kept his eyes shut, letting her work.
Jiu Yue grabbed a handful of spare herbs from a leaf nearby, tossing them into her mouth to chew. "I’ll crawl back through the dog hole…"
"…" Sima Qing couldn’t help himself. "How… adaptable of you."
Jiu Yue shot him a look before spitting the mashed herbs onto the wound below his shoulder. She then tore another strip of fabric from his clothes and wrapped it around him with practiced indifference.
"Your Highness should worry about yourself first," she said, poking his wound deliberately before leaning back lazily. "Didn’t you say you had a plan? Where are your people?"
Sima Qing winced in pain, opening his eyes to see Jiu Yue’s mischievous grin.
She’d done it on purpose.
He laughed despite himself but still answered, "To be precise, they were arranged by His Majesty."
Jiu Yue paused, and he continued, "The original plan was: assassins chase me, I flee, fall off a cliff, and then His Majesty’s men find me and carry me back."
"…Just carry you back?" Jiu Yue gaped. "You didn’t arrange for anyone to catch you below? Were you not afraid of actually dying?!"
Sima Qing’s expression remained calm. "This is the lowest cliff in Mount Mingshi. I may not be able to scale walls like you, but a fall here wouldn’t kill me."
Jiu Yue finally had the chance to say it: "You seem awfully confident in your survival… to gamble like this!"
"Just making the most of what I have," he replied with a self-deprecating smile.
Jiu Yue didn’t know how to respond.
Amused by her expression, Sima Qing changed the subject. "When you went out earlier, did you see anyone?"
Jiu Yue shook her head. "I even went back to where we fell. Not a soul in sight."
She’d actually gone to dispose of Wen Shuang’s body.
Last time, she hadn’t properly handled the dead assassins, and Sima Qing’s men had found them. She wasn’t taking chances this time—Wen Shuang now rested at the bottom of a river.
Ah… she really was too kind-hearted to resort to dismemberment.
Sima Qing fell silent, a hint of confusion crossing his face.
This wasn’t right.
Jiu Yue offered optimistic reassurance. "Maybe the rain and the dense forest delayed them. They’ll come by dawn at the latest—you’ll last till then."
Sima Qing sighed. For now, waiting was all they could do.
The fire crackled on. After a long silence, Jiu Yue suddenly blurted out:
"Why did you stab yourself?"
"Why did you jump after me?"
They spoke at the same time.
Both froze.
Jiu Yue hugged her knees and shot him a disdainful glance before speaking first, "It's all your fault! You never told me I'd have to take a knife for this!"
"At that point, you were nearly unconscious. If I'd thrown you off the cliff, you'd either be dead or crippled for life... Tell me the truth—do you miss the wheelchair that much?"
Sima Qing: "..."
Jiu Yue added a handful of dry branches to the fire, her smile laced with sarcasm. "Besides, Prince Ping didn’t exactly leave me any way out."
Given the situation back then, she would’ve been captured for sure—best-case scenario, hunted down, which would’ve been a hassle either way.
So she made a split-second decision and dragged Sima Qing down with her.
"Seems he still has his doubts..." Sima Qing’s face was pale, but his smirk carried a hint of amusement. "I’m genuinely curious—what exactly did you do before to make him both unwilling to let you go and too wary to trust you?"
