Having heard Xie Jing’s words, the girl fell into a thoughtful silence for a moment. Suddenly, she smiled again before tilting her head slightly, “You value your maternal kin no less than your husband or son. Would you simply die for them and abandon your burden as a son? Would you force your parents to bury their own child?”
Her two questions were phrased as pure inquiries, yet the lingering tone was airy as if she were truly curious and truly indifferent.
“You wouldn’t,” the girl said without waiting for Xie Jing’s answer. “Otherwise, that person wouldn’t have sent me to kill your son in the first place.”
Seeing her reach for Lu Shuqing’s swaddling clothes, Xie Jing instinctively said, “Then please, grant me at least one thing.”
“What?”
“Let me do it myself.”
The girl was slightly surprised and looked at him sideways. Xie Jing repeated firmly, “Give him to me. I’ll end his life myself, so that when he descends into the underworld, he’ll hate me enough to never choose me as his parent again in another life.”
The girl hesitated briefly before signaling to the man behind Xie Jing. As the grip on his neck slackened, Xie Jing stepped forward to the table, bent down, and lifted Lu Shuqing into his arms, holding him close.
His movements were without the slightest hesitation; he did not even take a second look at Lu Shuqing’s sleeping face. He simply folded the edge of the brocade quilt back to cover the infant’s face.
In the hollow hall, the other two were as silent as if they had ceased breathing. The girl looked up in half-alarmed doubt and met Xie Jing’s eyes. In that fleeting moment, something in the depths of his eyes seemed to reach her, and her expression turned cold. She moved without warning, her pale blade flashing from the side, its tip aimed not at him, but at the swaddled bundle in Lu Shuqing’s arms.
With speed surpassing instinct, Xie Jing curled his body like a shrimp, shielding Lu Shuqing completely and tightly against his chest and abdomen, taking the blade with the side of his neck. Almost at the same moment, before any pain could register; a shadow dropped from above. Steel met steel with a sharp, ringing clash, and when he lifted his head, he saw the girl had already been driven back several steps.
Lu Lingcong stood before him, blocking the way with a longsword held in a reverse grip. His voice betrayed no emotion: “There’s no need to go to such lengths. If you can kill me here and now, he will naturally cease to be Princess Zhao.”
After a moment of stalemate, the girl exchanged a glance with the man. The former engaged Lu Lingcong in a flash of lightning, while the latter swiftly lunged behind Xie Jing, attempting to restrain him once more. But Xie Jing suddenly whirled around; the unsheathed Flying Light clenched tight within his sleeve and brought it down in a ruthless strike against the man’s arm.
He had not actually learned the Six Forms of Flying Light from Lu Lingcong, nor did he have any skill or experience. Driven entirely by surprise and the full force he could muster, his wild, unrefined blow still bit deep into the man’s right arm.
Xie Jing was jolted by the force of his own blow. Taking advantage of the man’s momentary cry of pain, he broke free and staggered back several steps.
Lu Lingcong had no time to examine the situation closely before shouting only a single command to Xie Jing, “Go!”
Xie Jing did not spare another glance before turning to sprint toward the main gate with all his might. He had never run this fast in his life, not sparing even a moment to check whether anyone was chasing after him or not.
Fortunately, the Ding family residence was not particularly spacious. When Xie Jing reached the main gate and slammed his shoulder against it, it wouldn’t budge as if it had been bolted from the outside. Thinking it might be the local authorities or Xie Yan, he balled his hand into a fist and hammered on the wood while shouting, “It’s me! Xie Jing!”
The door opened after two strikes. Xie Jing stumbled forward a couple of steps and was caught head-on by Xiao Yao. He cried out, “There are only those two and His Highness!”
Xiao Yao understood instantly. She took the blood-stained Flying Light and pushed Xie Jing toward a carriage parked by the road. At a shrill whistle, several figures slipped out from the shadows, likely operatives of the Xuanshi; and, without a word, followed Xiao Yao into the residence.
The carriage curtain was pulled back to reveal a visibly haggard Yin Chou sitting inside. Xie Jing was taken aback. “Why did you come along?”
“I couldn’t stop worrying about His Highness Shizi,” Yin Chou said as he took Lu Shuqing from Xie Jing’s arms. Upon looking closer, she suddenly gasped, “Princess Consort, you’re injured?”
Only now did the pain begin to flare up as an afterthought. Xie Jing glanced sideways at his neck; his snow-white collar had already been soaked red in a small patch. Fortunately, the wound was not deep and had not reached the veins, but the girl’s blade had been so sharp that it left a long, startling gash that looked terrifying to the eye.
He exhaled a long, relieved breath and sank into the seat opposite Yin Chou, utterly drained. Taking the handkerchief she offered, he pressed it against the wound to stop the bleeding. “It’s no matter. I can bandage it myself once we return.”
Yin Chou then spoke: “Uncle was concerned about the number of enemies and was waiting with troops on the other side of the bridge. Before His Highness entered, he instructed that once Princess Consort and His Highness Shizi were out of danger, you should leave immediately and not worry about him. He and the Xuanshi will find their own way out.”
By now, the Xuanshi had trailed Xiao Yao into the Ding residence. Beneath the faint, pre-dawn light, a solitary carriage rested on a deserted street, silent and empty of any passersby. Xie Jing was indeed filled with lingering fear, dreading that the man and woman might have reinforcements or a hidden trap. After a moment of contemplation, he instructed the coachmen outside the curtain, “Back to the mansion.”
Xie Jing accompanied his elder brother to thank the various government departments that had been mobilized that night, distributing generous rewards as “compensation.” By the time he had reported their safety to his parents and seen his kinsmen back to Wuyi Alley, the sun had finally risen.
He sent Yin Chou off to sleep. Alone in the quiet of the inner courtyard, Xie Jing gradually realized that Yin Chou’s insistence on coming to meet him and Lu Shuqing was likely a quiet, subtle demonstration of her loyalty. Although they were not master and servant, they were in an employer-employee relationship; having been kidnapped right after she had gone to see an old acquaintance, Yin Chou likely feared he would grow suspicious.
Xie Jing was somewhat surprised; he hadn’t thought of it that way at all, nor had he ever doubted Yin Chou’s loyalty to Prince Zhao’s Mansion or to Lu Shuqing. For over a year, he had viewed her as an experienced elder sister whose counsel he could seek, and they had always gotten along with the ease of partners. Xie Jing wasn’t sure whether Yin Chou’s excessive caution came from the carefulness inherent to those of the martial world, or if his own recent, almost morbid protectiveness of Lu Shuqing had compelled her to be so meticulous.
He took the gauze and medicinal wine and seated himself before the vanity, mulling over the events of the night. The person behind the girl clearly bore him no intent to kill; their true objective was unmistakable—to drive him away from Lu Lingcong and Prince Zhao’s Mansion. Fundamentally, it was to drag the Xie family out of the quagmire of the struggle for the throne.
Xie Jing had no way of deducing this person’s identity. He remained unclear whether the individual broadly equated “giving the Xie family a hand” with “saving him,” or if they were truly targeting Xie Jing alone, wanting only to save him specifically while not actually caring about the fate of the entire Xie clan of Chen Commandery.
He was completely bewildered—having been in Jinling for just two years, his former classmates and colleagues were mere acquaintances, and he had no close friends or confidants. He truly could not imagine who would go to such great lengths to sever his ties with the imperial family.
Xie Jing rested his elbows on the table, staring vacantly at the designs on the bronze mirror, until a flash of black at the hem caught his eye in the reflection. He snapped back to his senses and looked up; Lu Lingcong had returned at some unknown point and was standing silently behind him.
“Did you—” Xie Jing blurted out.
“I’m not hurt.” Lu Lingcong knew what he was going to ask. He grabbed a cloth dampened with warm water, leaned in, and carefully wiped the blood from the side of Xie Jing’s neck.
Xie Jing breathed a sigh of relief. “What about those two?”
“The girl fought to the death to protect the man’s escape, then took her own life. Their skills were by no means ordinary. Mount Tang’s Manor carried out a head count and found one person missing, it was someone called “Ah Yu,” likely that girl. But she had been taken in by the Wu family at eight or nine; with no record of adoption, and her surname and place of origin completely unknown, tracing her background was impossible.”
“There are too many suspicious points, and we must investigate thoroughly, but let’s discuss it later.” Xie Jing truly had no energy left to think about it. “I just had the wet nurse feed Qing’er; he’s asleep now.”
Lu Lingcong remained silent, his face partly hidden by the top edge of the mirror frame. Xie Jing looked up at him and asked, “Did I frighten you back then?”
“To death,” Lu Lingcong admitted, his voice still carrying a trace of lingering fear.
Xie Jing paused. “Do you think I really could have gone through with it?”
Lu Lingcong showed a flicker of slow hesitation. “…I don’t know. I was only gambling that you were using it as a signal for me to strike.”
Xie Jing gave a faint smile. “It seems you won your bet.”
Lu Lingcong remained noncommittal. He softly lifted Xie Jing’s chin, and Xie Jing leaned his neck forward just enough for Lu Lingcong to apply the medicine and then carefully wrap the gauze.
It was only then that he suddenly noticed an odd sensation at his neck. He instinctively clutched his chest, only to realize the scented locket pendant he had worn daily for over a year was no longer there.
It was gone. The chain had probably snapped—most likely during the struggle and lost somewhere inside the Ding residence.
Xie Jing was suddenly struck by a trance-like daze as if a piece of flesh had been gouged from his heart. A hollow ache spread through him, but it was a contained pain—almost a relief, as if the dust had finally settled. Throughout this night, from his initial desperate collapse to his forced composure to this moment of complete calm, he had finally thought one thing through: the agony and torment of the past few months had perhaps been because he was too greedy.
He had asked for too much; he wanted everything. He already had a complete family, the status of a legally wedded spouse, and a healthy, lovely child, yet he still felt it was not enough and demanded freedom and a true heart. How could all the good things in the world be for him alone to claim?
Always eager to take, had he ever paused to consider whether he deserved all he sought? The girl’s questions reminded Xie Jing that it is impossible to satisfy both sides in this world. When facing his maternal relatives versus the two people surnamed Lu currently in this room, the only thing he could do was pray, pray that he would never be forced to choose between them.
Perhaps it was Heaven’s will that he loses it. A fragment of feeling never spoken, known to no one else in the world; if he never mentioned it again, there was no reason anyone else would recall it for him, dragging his true emotions into the light to be tormented endlessly for the rest of his life.
As long as Lu Shuqing could remain safe and untroubled, living a smooth and prosperous life, he could stop caring about or yearning for anything else.
As if having made up his mind, Xie Jing let his hand drop, resting it nonchalantly back on his knee. Yet in the next moment, a shadow loomed over him. Lu Lingcong leaned down even lower before hanging a cool, dimly lustrous silver object against his chest and fastening the clasp behind his neck.
He did not look into Xie Jing’s wide, startled eyes. Instead, he kept his gaze lowered, staring at the scented locket pendant containing the intertwined locks of their hair. He asked in a low voice while pressing his hands firmly onto Xie Jing’s shoulders, “Since when did this begin?”
Xie Jing opened his mouth and then closed it. He had only just made that resolution, even feeling somewhat relieved that he had reined himself in before becoming a lifelong laughingstock to Prince Zhao. Now, he felt as though his naked body had been exposed from the inside out, or as if he had been struck across the face; how could he possibly find the words?
Moreover, he could not answer the question. Love springs forth without cause and grows quietly; he could not pinpoint the exact hour or moment his heart had been stirred. The roots of affection need no grand display—a glance, an embrace, or a smile can all nourish it like sweet spring water. By the time the person involved realizes their own feelings, the tree has already grown to blot out the sun, and they have already been spoiled by that considerate shade.
After a long silence, Xie Jing slowly turned his face and stood up. Fixing his eyes on the real Lu Lingcong instead of the reflection in the mirror, he curled his fingers, silently inviting him to come closer.
Lu Lingcong tilted his head down slightly and leaned forward. He felt Xie Jing’s lips brush against his cheek with a feather-light touch, so fleeting it was barely more than an instant.
Xie Jing planned to stick to his usual approach by using a quick, teasing touch, followed by a playful, half-serious diversion to shift the topic. Unexpectedly, as he moved to pull away, a hand steadied the small of his back, pressing him firmly into Lu Lingcong’s embrace.
Then, a real kiss descended.
Then, their lips met with tongues and teeth intertwining; amid the suction, there were occasional, instinctive nips, and a long, repeated grinding of lingering tenderness. Countless areas of Xie Jing’s skin had felt Lu Lingcong’s kisses, but none had ever been touched with such patient warmth. This was the first time in Lu Lingcong’s life that he had actively and solemnly kissed his lips. This was their first true kiss in every sense of the word.
Such a kiss should only exist between the most intimately familiar lovers and should never belong to an imperial couple who treat each other with utmost respect and harmony. Xie Jing, “treating each other with utmost respect and harmony” had always been a cruel phrase. How could anyone endure being treated as nothing more than a “guest” by their beloved for an entire lifetime?
When their lips parted, all was clear. Lu Lingcong had received his answer, and Xie Jing had no need to ask further; everything was understood.
The only difference was their perspective: he felt the sudden clarity of awakening from a long dream, as if, looking back over the past two years, every ambiguous and blurred corner now carried a distinct meaning, fully revealed in this moment. The latter felt the fear of a beautiful dream so easily shattered; fate had played with him like a fool, and just when he had let go of his desires and stopped hoping, it had granted his wish with effortless ease.
Xie Jing simply stared blankly at Lu Lingcong as he was truly speechless at this point. Where should he even begin?
While he was racking his brains in deep thought, Lu Lingcong suddenly let out a soft “ah,” as if struck by a flash of spiritual insight, murmuring, “So, ‘never forget each other’ is not an auspicious phrase.”
Of course it isn’t, Xie Jing thought, almost laughing out of sheer exasperation.
“Long-term remembrance, staying together for life.” These eight words were not as difficult for Xie Jing to utter as he had imagined, though they carried a weight of a thousand pounds.
This time, it was Lu Lingcong’s turn to be struck dumb. Xie Jing’s entire heart, scalding and stitched with blood, was contained within those eight words; a confession honed through countless days and nights, now utterly familiar, offered to him without hesitation.
Lu Lingcong let out a soft breath and said, “When Qing’er was first born, I went to Shenlong Hall to beg Emperor Father to let us leave the palace and return to our mansion. He told me then that the reason he chose you to be Princess Consort Zhao from the very beginning was because he was certain that, one day, I would surely give my true heart to you. Emperor Father has seen right through me, after all. Not as an ally, nor as family, but simply as you… how can I put it? It is a genuine heart that regards you as my wife.”
He drowned in the deep pool of Xie Jing’s eyes; this person was so sincere toward him that he could be read at a single glance. That autumn night, sitting on the steps of Prince Zhao’s Mansion and holding Xie Jing’s hand, he had mourned that he had never seen what it meant to grow old together, never having understood how to be a husband and wife, or what it truly meant to be a couple. Until just now; until the moment that girl’s blade grazed Xie Jing’s neck, he had become self-taught.
“It was never that I didn’t want Qing’er; I was only afraid that I couldn’t be a good father and that he would repeat my mistakes. He is your child; the child you bore for me; I cannot bear to see him suffer the slightest constraint.
“I want you to remain in Prince Zhao’s Mansion, by my side, not as Qing’er’s mother or the mother of the heir, but simply as yourself. If Princess Consort Zhao and Qing’er’s mother were anyone else, it wouldn’t do.”
“When I call you darling, sweetheart, good boy, not once have I been perfunctory or merely coaxing you. I call you ‘darling’ because, in my heart, you are a genuine pearl, a precious gem. If the person bestowed upon me in marriage back then had been someone else, sooner or later I would have found a way to separate from them and beg Emperor Father to let me marry you. Had I known you since childhood, at seventeen, or even fifteen, I would have asked Lord Xie for your hand long ago, letting the whole world know that I would marry no one but you.
“I already missed the chance to bind our hair on our wedding night. For all the years and months of the rest of my life, I never want to miss another single day with you.”
