Late at night, Mount Cuiping.

A carriage raced down the official road, its wheels nearly grinding sparks.

“Rest assured, my lord, we’ll surely make it back before tomorrow’s morning court—”

Before the words could finish, a tripwire suddenly stretched across the road.

Boom!

The horse’s front legs buckled, and the coachman tumbled from the carriage, knocked unconscious.

Several shadowy figures leaped from the woods on either side, blades in hand, slowly closing in on the carriage.

The leader barked, “Xie Zhizhou, hand over the ledger, and we’ll spare your life!”

Silence.

Frowning, the leader signaled to a subordinate, who yanked open the carriage curtain and shouted, “He’s not inside!”

The leader’s face darkened. “Damn it, we’ve been tricked! After him!”

On another mountain path, Xie Zhizhou clutched the ledger, stumbling toward the Sleeping Buddha Temple…

Half an hour earlier, someone from Chief Minister Yan’s side had arrived.

The man had smiled and told him a group of assassins was waiting to ambush him.

He’d also said they couldn’t intervene, so Xie Zhizhou would have to fend for himself.

Xie Zhizhou had been stunned but managed a decoy escape—only to find the enemy had split forces to intercept him anyway.

“Xie Zhizhou, we’ve been waiting.”

The assassins emerged, at least twenty or thirty in number.

Xie Zhizhou’s voice was steady. “Who sent you? Do you not know assassinating a court official is a capital offense?”

The leader sneered. “Xie Zhizhou, no matter what you say tonight, you won’t leave here alive. Though if you hand over the ledger, we’ll grant you a clean death.”

Their ruthlessness confirmed it—these were true death squads.

Xie Zhizhou gritted his teeth. Did Chief Minister Yan overestimate him?

Sure, he’d trained in martial arts since childhood, but he was a scholar, a scholar!

How could he possibly take on twenty or thirty men alone?

“Xie Zhizhou, have you made your choice?”

The mocking question made it clear they saw him as prey.

Xie Zhizhou took a deep breath. “Come on, then.”

If he survived, he’d report Third Yan to the emperor.

If ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​‍he died, he’d howl his grievances in the underworld!

Boom!

A thunderclap roared, and the icy rain of the winter solstice poured without warning.

In the rear courtyard of the Sleeping Buddha Temple, Xue Ling stirred awake, calling softly, “Chan?”

Her maid hurried in with a lamp. “Miss, what’s wrong?”

“Outside… is it raining?”

Chan peeked out and quickly shut the window. “Yes, a heavy storm. Are you cold?”

Xue Ling wrapped herself in a cloak and sat up, silent for a long moment. “No. Just a nightmare… Chan, stay and talk with me.”

Chan’s heart ached. Ever since the master fell into a coma and the mistress nearly met disaster, the young lady had been plagued by nightmares.

Sometimes she woke at midnight and sat blankly till dawn.

She settled beside Xue Ling. “Miss, you mustn’t worry so much. The old physician said the mistress and the baby are fine, and the master might still wake!”

“That may be, but it’s been months without any sign…”

Before she could finish, a dull thud sounded at the door.

Assuming it was the storm, the two paid no mind—until another crash splintered the doorframe.

Xue Ling stood at once. Chan cried, “Miss, let me go!”

She shook her head, pulling two scissors from her bag—one for each of them. “We’ll go together.”

Cautiously, they approached the door and found a bloodstained ledger on the ground…

“Miss, look—is that a person?!”

Chan gasped, pointing. Xue Ling tucked away the ledger and followed her gaze. In the torrential rain, a motionless figure lay sprawled in the courtyard, lifeless as a corpse.

After a long stare, Xue Ling suddenly asked, “Chan, doesn’t he seem familiar?”

“Eh? Really?”

The maid rubbed her eyes, seeing nothing recognizable in the storm-lashed darkness.

Yet Xue Ling’s heart leaped. Compelled, she stepped outside…

“Miss, come back! You’ll catch cold!”

But her lady whirled around. “It’s Xie Zhizhou! Quick, help me carry him inside!”

Chan gaped but rushed to assist. Yet as they reached the doorway, the man jerked awake, shoving Chan aside and pressing his sword to Xue Ling’s throat.

“Who… are you?”

Though his voice was faint, his eyes were sharp as ice.

Xue Ling didn’t flinch. “Don’t you remember me?”

A flash of lightning illuminated her face.

Xie Zhizhou murmured, “Miss Xue…”

Was this… a dream?

“Of course it’s our lady! How dare you barge in here, threaten her with a sword—are you even a man?”

Chan’s furious scolding snapped him back. After a dazed pause, he lowered the blade. “My apologies.”

Xue Ling shook her head, but then he rasped, “The ledger—”

“This?” She produced the one from the doorstep. Xie Zhizhou’s gaze hardened. “Miss Xue, please… deliver it to Chief Minister Yan…”

With that, he staggered back into the rain.

Xue Ling shouted, “Where are you going?”

“Assassins… lure them away…”

Too weak to explain, he leaned on his sword, forcing each step.

Her heart clenched. In his state, this was suicide.

Gritting her teeth, she grabbed an empty chamber pot and swung.

Thud!

Xie Zhizhou crumpled. Xue Ling caught him—and recoiled at the blood soaking his back.

“Chan, he’s badly hurt! Help me get him inside!”

Once he was on the bed, Xue Ling ordered, “The wound powder!”

Her grandmother had insisted she bring it. Now, she couldn’t be more grateful.

Chan poured it over his back. The man groaned, brow furrowing…

But the bleeding didn’t stop. The sheets reddened in moments.

Chan trembled. “M-Miss, should I fetch help? Maybe the monks here know medicine—”

“No!” Xue Ling cut her off.

Xie Zhizhou was the Earl of Nanping’s heir, the emperor’s favored scholar.

If assassins dared target him, they’d be relentless.

Her guards were no match, and this temple lacked the prestige—or warrior monks—to defend against such foes.

And his mention of luring them away meant they were close.

After a pause, Xue Ling said, “Chan, gather all the incense we brought. Light it in every corner.”

“All of it? That’s priceless ambergris—”

“That’s why! Only its strength can mask the blood. Hurry!”

Chan obeyed, placing extra boxes near the bed.

Once done, Xue Ling said, “Go back to your room. No matter what you hear, don’t come in!”

Chan’s heart skipped a beat. Just as she reached the doorway, she saw her young mistress remove her outer robe and lie down on the daybed…

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep