Yan Zheng murmured under his breath, almost doubting this was a dream.

Or perhaps a dying hallucination—how else could the person he had longed for but never dared hope to see again appear before him now?

Chu Ruoyan quickly pressed her palm over his lips. “Don’t make a sound… Su Tingyun just passed by!”

The soft warmth of her hand against his mouth seemed to dull even the piercing pain in his chest.

Yan Zheng shifted his gaze slightly, as if asking, How are you here?

Leaning close to his ear, Chu Ruoyan whispered, “It’s a long story. I followed the trail back from Nine-Mile Pavilion and saw Su Tingyun chasing that carriage. Somehow, I just knew you weren’t in it… Thank heavens I trusted my instincts!”

The sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance, and she straightened up, ready to check his injuries.

But thick clouds swallowed the moonlight once more, plunging them into darkness.

She could barely see his condition, only hearing the sharp, restrained hisses of pain between his teeth.

“You’re hurt?”

Her small hands frantically searched her sleeves for anything useful. Yan Zheng shook his head, finally forcing out a hoarse reply, “It’s nothing… just ephedra powder…”

“Ephedra powder?!” Chu Ruoyan barely stifled her outcry. “Su Tingyun dared use ephedra powder?!”

Harmless to most, even a trace of it was lethal to someone with internal injuries. This was no accident—Su Tingyun had targeted Yan Zheng, aiming to kill him.

Yan Zheng clenched his jaw, tempted to defend Su Tingyun—his subordinates’ actions were his responsibility—but he only rasped, “Western Mountain Camp…”

Chu Ruoyan understood. “Don’t worry. Nine-Mile Pavilion is just ahead, and the camp is twenty miles beyond. Can you ride?”

The moment she asked, she almost laughed at herself. Whether he could or not, riding was their only option now. Fear had made her reckless.

Just as she moved to help him up, thunderous hoofbeats erupted—Su Tingyun and his men had doubled back!

They must have discovered the empty carriage and returned to search…

Chu Ruoyan yanked Yan Zheng down, hastily covering them both with weeds.

“Sir! There’s a horse here!” A constable from the Capital Prefecture shouted, spotting Chu Ruoyan’s mount.

Su Tingyun urged his horse forward, face grim. “Just as I thought. Yan Zheng has an accomplice. They’ve likely fled with him by now—” His expression suddenly paled. “Damn it, the Western Mountain Camp!”

Wheeling his horse around, he vanished into the night.

Chu Ruoyan exhaled in relief, scrambling up—only to see her horse being led away.

“Bastards! Since when does the Capital Prefecture lack horses?” she muttered, her heart sinking.

The camp was still so far, and Yan Zheng, poisoned by ephedra, could barely move…

She debated fetching Uncle Liu first when Yan Zheng weakly tugged her sleeve.

“What is it? Is the pain worse?”

He shook his head, struggling to reach into his robe for something.

Chu Ruoyan gripped his wrist. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not leaving you behind!”

Then came the creak of wheels. Her head snapped up as a plain carriage approached.

The driver fretted aloud, “Miss Yao, perhaps we should turn back and report to the authorities? Those bodies on the road—”

He recoiled as Chu Ruoyan leapt into their path, arms outstretched. “Are you mad?!” he bellowed, yanking the reins.

Chu Ruoyan bowed repeatedly. “Forgive me! My—my husband—” She caught herself—common folk didn’t use such formal terms—”My man’s heart is failing, and robbers took our carriage. Could we ride with you to Nine-Mile Pavilion?”

The driver gaped, but his mistress stepped out with a lantern, gasping at the sight of Chu Ruoyan. “County Princess Changle?”

Chu Ruoyan stared back. “Miss Yao?”

The midnight traveler was none other than Yao Qing, who’d severed ties with her family!

Yao Qing lowered the lantern, illuminating Yan Zheng. “Is that Lord Anning? Help him in!”

Within minutes, both were aboard.

Chu Ruoyan hesitated, but Yao Qing explained first, “My wet nurse is gravely ill. I’m rushing back to Yuzhou.”

“I didn’t mean to pry,” Chu Ruoyan said quietly. “Just drop us at Nine-Mile Pavilion.”

“Will that suffice?” Yao Qing eyed Yan Zheng’s ashen face.

Chu Ruoyan nodded. A carriage racing through the night would draw attention, and she refused to drag Yao Qing into danger.

Yet Yao Qing countered, “County Princess, you and Lord Anning once aided me. Let this repay that debt. Where must you go?”

Chu Ruoyan wavered. Yao Qing scoffed, “You still distrust me?”

“It’s not that. Our pursuers will be lying in wait ahead. I won’t endanger you.”

Yao Qing’s expression softened. “Tell me. Perhaps I can help.”

Glancing at Yan Zheng—now barely conscious—Chu Ruoyan relented. “The Western Mountain Camp.”

Yao Qing’s brows lifted. “Then fate smiles on you. Besides the main road, there’s a shortcut my father once showed me—narrow, unfit for carriages, but it halves the distance. Barely five or six miles!”

Chu Ruoyan brightened, but Yao Qing fell silent.

Frowning, Chu Ruoyan pressed, “Name your terms, Miss Yao.”

“No, it’s not like that!” Yao Qing waved hastily, then whispered, “Though… there is one thing. Might I… visit Wulang’s grave again?”

After the annulment, Yan Zheng had barred her from everything—even the burial grounds.

Chu Ruoyan sighed. “I can’t promise for him—”

Yao Qing’s face fell, but Chu Ruoyan added, “But I’ll ask.”

“Thank you!” Yao Qing described the path—just beyond Nine-Mile Pavilion—when torchlight suddenly flooded the road outside.

A cold voice called, “Whose household travels so late? Step forth and explain yourselves.”

Chu Ruoyan clenched her fists. Su Tingyun.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep