Huo Liuxing rolled out of the room in his wheelchair, and though it was warm outside, the air suddenly felt as if a frost had fallen, chilling to the bone.
Kongqing’s finger, which had been pointing stiffly at the inkstone, trembled uncontrollably and retreated into his sleeve. Eyes wide, he swallowed hard.
Jingmo nudged him with an elbow, signaling him to ask what was going on.
Kongqing grimaced, but didn’t dare make a sound.
The two had served Huo Liuxing long enough to know that his temper was far less gentle than outsiders believed. Judging by his expression, someone had clearly made a serious blunder and neither of them was eager to volunteer for a scolding.
But seeing Huo Liuxing’s brows furrowed into the shape of the character “川,” it wasn’t just anger, it was confusion. That made it harder to pretend nothing was wrong. As loyal attendants, they couldn’t ignore their Master’s unrest.
After a long half-stick of incense’s worth of silent, intense eye contact—“You ask.” “No, you ask.”—Kongqing finally gave a dry laugh, hunched his back, and forced a smile. “Young Master… did I say something wrong just now?”
Huo Liuxing slowly turned his head and gave him a sidelong glance, but said nothing. His brows remained tightly knit.
Unable to read his Master’s mood, Kongqing had no choice but to press on, bracing himself for impact. He began with flattery: “Young Master, I know you are perceptive beyond compare, keen-eyed, cautious, far-sighted, wise, resourceful, and divinely insightful…”
Then he eased into the real topic: “That’s why I always believed Young Madam, sent to the Huo residence by the Emperor and the Princess Royal, must have ulterior motives.”
And then, with a dramatic pivot: “But given your unmatched perception and the fact that you’re keen-eyed, cautious, far-sighted, wise, resourceful, and divinely insightful… in all these days, have you seen her slip up even once?”
“You haven’t!” Kongqing declared with righteous conviction. “So if there’s one answer that explains all your current doubts, why won’t you believe it? Even Jingmo is starting to waver. Stop overthinking, Young Madam is clearly in love with you…”
“Shut up.” Huo Liuxing shot him a sharp look that cut like a blade.
The affairs of this world are strange like that. When someone refuses to believe something, everything starts to look like proof of it. But the moment they finally decide to believe, it jumps out and smacks them in the face, reminding them how presumptuous they’ve been.
“If there’s another answer that explains all the inconsistencies,” Huo Liuxing said, pointing at the inkstone on the desk, “then eat it.”
Jingmo sensed something was off. “Young Master… did you hear something from Young Madam?”
Huo Liuxing exhaled slowly and recounted the fragmented story Shen Lingzhen had told him, how she had mistaken him for her savior.
Though the tale sounded far-fetched, it neatly explained everything: her urgency when she called “Young Master” outside Qingyang’s city gates, her unusually sharp attention during the wedding ceremony, her probing remark on their wedding night—“You look familiar, like I’ve seen you somewhere”—her curiosity about his sword and scar, her boldness in pulling at his robe and spying on him while he bathed, and finally, her reckless leap into the river to save him.
All of it made sense now.
Huo Liuxing had to admit, this explanation was far more convincing than the idea of romantic affection.
And so, after hearing her scattered words, he quickly pieced together the likely sequence of events and made a snap decision: to impersonate the so-called savior and go along with the misunderstanding, for now.
But this raised a new problem.
Kongqing blinked and asked, “But how could Young Madam mistake you for someone else just because of your sword and scar? Are you saying the real savior had the exact same sword and scar? That’s… a bit too coincidental, isn’t it?”
Huo Liuxing’s sword had been custom-forged by a master smith in Hexi, there was only one like it in the world. If another identical sword existed, it had to be a deliberate imitation.
But that sword had only ever been used in battle, never flaunted in the capital. If someone had managed to replicate it precisely, they were likely connected to the Huo household.
As for the scar beneath his collarbone, only those who had been with him in the Western Qiang prisoner camp would know of it. And back then, he was the only one who escaped.
In other words, the only person capable of replicating that scar must be someone who’s had close access to him.
Putting all the clues together, it clearly pointed to one conclusion: there was a mole inside the Huo residence.
And yet, the strange part was this, despite the elaborate effort to impersonate him, the mole’s actions had resulted in nothing but benefits for Huo Liuxing. Shen Lingzhen, whose loyalties had once been uncertain, was now firmly on his side.
So perhaps this mole… had gone to great lengths with surprisingly good intentions?
Looking at the utterly clueless Huo Liuxing, then at the equally puzzled Jingmo, Kongqing sighed.
Ever since Young Madam married into the household, they’d done nothing but play guessing games instead of handling proper affairs.
With that in mind, he suggested, “I believe, since Young Madam saw that man with her own eyes, she must have more detailed information. Why not ask her directly?”
It was a sharp suggestion.
But this so-called “asking” was easier said than done.
Given the current situation, Huo Liuxing’s best strategy was to “never speak of his past heroics.” The more he said, the more likely he’d slip up. One wrong word, and his impersonation could be exposed.
If that happened, Shen Lingzhen would no longer feel indebted to him. Worse, she’d see him as a shameless imposter who had stolen another’s place and undoubtedly treat him as an enemy.
His legs weren’t strong enough to stand yet. Until then, having the person beside his pillow turn into a sworn adversary would be a serious problem.
But since he’d already taken the cuckoo’s nest, he’d have to pay the price. Trouble, after all, doesn’t always wait for permission.
That night, before bed, Huo Liuxing sat at his desk reading scripture as usual, appearing calm and composed.
But for Shen Lingzhen, today was a momentous day, a day of honesty and heartfelt exchange. After her bath, she couldn’t help but sit close beside him and softly call out, “Husband…”
Seeing her expression, Huo Liuxing immediately guessed she was about to bring up the rescue. His heart skipped a beat, but he kept his face gentle and pleasant. “It’s late. Aren’t you sleepy?”
She shook her head earnestly. “I want to talk with you.”
He covered his mouth and let out half a yawn. “Alright, I’ll keep you company for a while.”
“Great!” Shen Lingzhen propped her chin in her hands, beaming as she leaned in closer.
Huo Liuxing choked slightly. This girl was usually so good at reading people, how could she not see he was exhausted right now? She’d promised to repay his kindness, yet showed no concern for his weariness. What kind of gratitude was that?
“What do you want to talk about?”
Shen Lingzhen paused for a moment, then opened with a casual topic, the drought in Western Qiang.
Huo Liuxing had used that as an excuse to leave earlier in the day, though in truth he hadn’t received any news from the north. So he brushed it off with a vague “all is well.”
Sure enough, Shen Lingzhen soon got to the real question: “There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you for a long time, but never had the chance.”
He closed his eyes briefly, heavy with unease, then put away his scripture. “Go ahead.”
“That day, how did you know I’d been kidnapped? And how did you find me?”
Huo Liuxing had already looked into the Peach Blossom Valley incident, so this wasn’t too hard to handle.
He replied, “Followers of the White Infant Sect often stir up trouble. Even the border regions have been affected. I happened to be investigating covertly and traced them to Peach Blossom Valley near Bianjing.”
Shen Lingzhen’s eyes lit up with understanding, and she smiled. “So you had to hide the truth about your leg from the world, yet still cared for the people, risking yourself to punish evil and protect the innocent. I truly admire you.” Then she remembered something else. “And what about that handkerchief inside your cloak? My mother was worried that bringing the cloak and handkerchief here might cause misunderstandings, so she left them in Bianjing. Otherwise, I could’ve returned them to you.”
“…” No one had told him there was a whole subplot involving a cloak and a handkerchief.
Huo Liuxing furrowed his brow, pretending to recall. “Handkerchief? What kind of handkerchief?”
“You don’t remember? It was a sky-blue silk handkerchief with a poem written on each side—one in my handwriting, and the other by someone else. The verses didn’t make much sense together. I couldn’t understand them at all.”
He gave a soft cough. “Oh… that one…”
“Hmm?”
“That was something I picked up while tracking the sect,” Huo Liuxing said casually. “I stuffed it into my cloak without much thought.”
“I see. Then the inscription on the other side, was that your handwriting?”
Now that was a sharp question.
Considering the impersonator had already replicated his sword and scar, it was likely the handwriting matched as well. Huo Liuxing reasoned it was worth the gamble. “Yes, it’s mine.”
“Then that’s strange. Why would the White Infant Sect go to such lengths to fabricate a romantic tale between you and me?”
Huo Liuxing blinked. “I was in the thick of danger at the time and didn’t get a chance to read it carefully. If you still remember the two poems, could you write them down for me?”
Shen Lingzhen’s gift for memorization came in handy. She agreed readily.
To soothe her, Huo Liuxing personally ground the ink beside her. When he saw her elegant plum-blossom script, his brows furrowed slightly as he read aloud: “Better to remain lost in a dream of Nanke, where even parting in death feels like separation in life— Waking, my heart aches; dreaming, it aches still.”
Shen Lingzhen nodded. “‘Yinyin’ is my courtesy name.”
“Oh…” That poem certainly painted him as hopelessly devoted.
Setting down her brush, Shen Lingzhen leaned on her hand and asked, “What do you think it means?”
Her question was clearly aimed at uncovering the intentions of whoever had forged both their handwriting. But Huo Liuxing had no clue. Faced with her barrage of “Why?” “What does it mean?” “What should we do?”. he had no choice but to change the subject.
He smiled, reached out, and gently tapped her nose with one finger. “Silly girl. Obviously, it means I’m in love with you.”
Shen Lingzhen was caught off guard by his tender gaze and ambiguous tone. Her heart began to race uncontrollably. “Are you talking about the poem… or about…”
Huo Liuxing leaned in with a smile, whispering softly in her ear: “What do you think?”
Author’s note: Huo the Flirt, stop it! Let go of my girl!
White Infant Sect, the scapegoat: Why do I get blamed for everything?!
