Chapter 3
Chi Ying's mind was in complete turmoil. She wasn't remotely prepared to meet Prince Zhao, especially not under circumstances where he might very well be under attack.
If the assassins discovered she was here too, wouldn't that be a disaster she'd brought entirely upon herself?
Taking a deep breath, Chi Ying made a panicked decision and immediately ordered the coachman: "We can't help anyway. Let's stop farther away so we don't become a burden to His Highness."
The coachman wholeheartedly agreed and was just about to urge the horses onto a detour when, unexpectedly, this very action caught the attention of the assassins, who were already showing signs of defeat.
The leader of the black-clad men fixed his gaze and immediately noticed the emblem on the carriage at the corner of the street. He shouted, "It's a carriage from Prince Zhao's manor!"
The moment those words fell, not only did the assassins' eyes light up with opportunity, even the prince's hidden guards froze slightly.
Only one person in this world could use Prince Zhao's carriage, Consort Zhuang. But Her Ladyship hadn't left the manor in years, so who could be in this carriage...?
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Eyes met across the street, and everyone simultaneously remembered: the prince's consort had entered the manor just a few days ago... Could it be her?
In that moment of hesitation, a horse's shrill neigh pierced the air. The coachman was kicked to the ground, screams erupted from inside the carriage, and a young woman in an apricot-pink crossed-collar robe was dragged out by the assassins. A blade, cold and gleaming with menace, pressed against her slender, snow-white neck. The hairpins in her coiffure clinked with broken, delicate sounds as her body swayed unsteadily.
Driven to desperation, the assassin called out toward the dark blue silk-canopied carriage opposite: "The consort is in my hands! If Prince Zhao wants her to remain unharmed, let us leave immediately, otherwise, I'll paint this street with her blood!"
Chi Ying felt her eardrums buzzing with shock. She had never imagined she would find herself in such a situation. So being a substitute bride wasn't the worst of it, there was a very real chance she might die a violent death today!
The icy blade pressed tightly against her neck. With the assassin's savage roar, the trembling in his hand caused the blade to press down harder, drawing a line of blood.
Chi Ying could barely breathe. The cold gleam reflected in her pupils, and she could even smell the faint scent of rust. Instinctively, she looked toward the silk-canopied carriage across from her.
The evening wind was bitter cold. The golden bells at the carriage's eaves swayed gently in the breeze, radiating an aura of deadly, killing intent.
At that very moment, an extremely soft laugh drifted out from behind the curtain.
Like ripples casually stirred by the night wind, cool and jade-like, utterly indifferent, yet in the silent street, it rang particularly clear.
His attitude was already obvious.
Chi Ying closed her eyes. The pain at her neck was cold and sharp.
She had no choice but to try to save herself: "You can see for yourself, holding me hostage is useless. Prince Zhao and I haven't performed the wedding ceremony, haven't consummated the marriage, and have never even met. We don't count as husband and wife..."
The assassin leader immediately ground his teeth in fury.
They had recently received intelligence that Prince Zhao had been gravely injured, and tonight's outing seemed like the perfect opportunity for an assassination. Who knew the prince had prepared in advance, and his hidden guards were all top-tier experts? His entire group had suffered devastating casualties, they had been virtually slaughtered throughout.
Thinking of this, the assassin leader's face twisted savagely. His hot, turbid breath sprayed against Chi Ying's ear as he shouted fiercely: "Prince Zhao! This marriage was bestowed by His Majesty himself! If your consort dies a violent death within three days of your wedding, I'm afraid you won't be able to explain yourself either! Let us go, or this blade in my hand won't have eyes..."
Before he could finish, a howling wind tore through the air. The carriage's dark blue curtain lifted briefly at one corner, revealing a glimpse of black-gold robes, followed by a silver-white flash of light that pierced the night sky, whoosh!, shooting straight toward Chi Ying's pupils!
Thunder seemed to explode inside her skull. Chi Ying's entire body went rigid, cold sweat drenching her. She was certain she was about to die beneath that silver arrow.
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Until a slight pain stung her earlobe, followed by the dull, brief sound of an arrow striking flesh behind her. The assassin's scream cut off abruptly. Chi Ying's pupils contracted sharply, her breathing nearly stopped.
Two heartbeats later, the assassin behind her crashed to the ground.
The arrowhead had pierced clean through his throat. Blood splattered everywhere. Chi Ying's vision turned crimson, even her eyelashes dripping with blood.
After a long moment, Chi Ying slowly came back to herself. She turned around and saw that the arrow had struck the assassin squarely in the neck.
Blood pooled beneath the man's body. His eyes were wide open, furious and unseeing, dead without peace.
Xiangqin and Baoshan were both maids from wealthy households, how could they have witnessed such a bloody scene? They both screamed in terror.
Chi Ying's face was deathly pale. Her nails dug fiercely into the soft flesh of her palms, suppressing the suffocating fear in her heart.
The remaining assassins, now leaderless, left only three alive. The rest were all executed on the spot.
Chi Ying stood frozen in place, her slender body trembling faintly.
The carriage slowly approached, its wheels grinding over the broken stones on the ground with a harsh, tearing sound. As it passed beside her, the massive carriage body cast a heavy shadow, like a bloodthirsty beast completely enveloping her fragile frame.
Following Prince Zhao's orders, the lead guard stepped forward and bowed: "His Highness requests that the consort board the carriage."
Chi Ying looked back at her own carriage. The shaft was broken, the coachman had fainted on the ground, and both maids were traumatized.
Her face white as paper, she tried her best to keep her voice from shaking: "I... I can return on my own. No need to trouble His Highness..."
To be safe, she and Prince Zhao should minimize their contact.
If that arrow had been off by just half an inch, she would be the one dead.
She hadn't yet figured out how to live under the same roof with someone who had nearly taken her life.
However, the person inside the carriage remained silent for a long time, as if infinitely patient.
Chi Ying stood rigidly, feeling the golden bells at the eaves like a death knell, striking her heart with each beat.
The guard glanced at the carriage, his words now carrying a note of urging: "Consort, please board. Do not keep His Highness waiting."
Chi Ying clenched her teeth secretly, knowing she couldn't avoid this. She had no choice but to steel herself and step onto the carriage.
Her fingertips slowly lifted the curtain. A clear, cool, distant scent of sandalwood incense drifted to her nose.
Chi Ying raised her eyes and finally saw her husband in name only.
The man wore black-gold robes with dark embroidered patterns. His refined, pale features were hidden in half-light, half-shadow, making his features appear all the more sharp. His face was deeply sculpted, his lips faintly colored. His entire bearing was composed, the natural aura of one born to rule. The sight of him was enough to make one's heart tremble.
Especially because between his fingertips, he was casually playing with an exquisite crossbow.
Chi Ying recalled the arrow that had pierced the assassin's throat and involuntarily shivered.
Wasn't he supposed to have been blind for a long time? How could he have such accuracy...?
Lost in these thoughts, she didn't realize at all that she had been staring at him far too long.
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It wasn't until the man gently reminded her: "Will the consort not sit?"
His clear, cool voice had a quality like jade shattering on Mount Kun, like spring snow breaking bamboo, flowing coolly past her ear, inexplicably making her heart tremble.
Chi Ying hastily regained her senses and bowed in salute: "...This consort greets Your Highness."
The words "this consort" came out with extreme difficulty.
Prince Zhao nodded slightly: "Mm."
Chi Ying swallowed hard and sat down in the corner near the front curtain, trying to maintain as much distance from him as possible.
Yet her gaze still unconsciously flicked toward Prince Zhao, stealing glances at his eyes.
She had only known before that his temperament was sinister and cruel. She never imagined he would possess such incomparably beautiful features.
She saw his eyes slightly lowered, his ash-gray pupils bleeding with deep twilight shadows, like incense burned to ash. His lashes were very long, casting faint shadows on his eyelids. His gaze was slightly unfocused, and beside his hand rested a bamboo staff inlaid with black jade, undoubtedly blind.
"Is the consort looking at me?" Prince Zhao suddenly asked.
Chi Ying's body trembled. She saw the corner of his lips curve up ever so slightly, his gaze falling emptily, clearly not looking at her at all, yet his clear, tranquil eyes seemed to penetrate everything.
He was still waiting for her answer.
Chi Ying suppressed the fear in her heart and said carefully: "This consort heard that Your Highness was gravely injured and bedridden. I didn't expect to meet you here."
A faint laugh spilled from Prince Zhao's throat: "If not for the assassins' reminder, I would have forgotten—two days ago was my wedding day. I was unable to personally receive my bride that day. The consort doesn't resent me for this, does she?"
Chi Ying: "...This consort wouldn't dare. Your Highness was gravely injured; naturally this consort understands. Earlier, in a moment of panic, this consort misspoke."
Prince Zhao nodded: "The consort is indeed reasonable and understanding."
Chi Ying's face turned pale, not knowing how to respond.
Outside, the killing continued. It seemed that among the fallen black-clad men, someone had been playing dead, attempting to return and report. The manor guards finished him off with several consecutive strikes, thoroughly ending his life.
Inside the carriage, the man's expression was leisurely, a faint smile hanging at his lips, as if the dozens of corpses outside were merely playthings for his amusement.
Chi Ying recalled the rumors about Prince Zhao circulating in the streets, that he was sinister and bloodthirsty, like a demon descended to earth. And when Chi Yingyue mentioned Prince Zhao, her face had been full of terror, desperate to avoid him at all costs.
And today she had seen it herself, Prince Zhao was nothing like the rumors suggested, gravely injured and near death. He was clearly...
Chi Ying didn't dare look directly at his face. She lowered her eyes, her gaze unintentionally falling on his hand as it caressed the bowstring.
His fingers were slender and refined, wearing a blue jade thumb ring. His pale, translucent knuckles were faintly flushed. The veins lying dormant on the back of his hand had a sharp, cutting quality. He let the bowstring press alarming red marks into his fingertips, yet seemed completely unaware.
Prince Zhao detected her gaze. His finger bones moved slightly, and he smiled again: "What else is the consort looking at?"
Chi Ying's body trembled, her legs nearly giving out: "Your Highness, forgive me, this consort..."
"What crime has the consort committed?"
Prince Zhao said unhurriedly: "I simply didn't know the consort was so curious about me."
"This consort wouldn't dare."
Chi Ying pressed her lips tightly together and dared not raise her eyes again.
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The carriage drove away, and the screams and bloody stench outside slowly receded.
Prince Zhao heard the delicate sound of the woman beside him, her earrings swaying. The two sides seemed different. Suddenly remembering something, he took out a silk handkerchief from his sleeve, paused, then handed it to her: "Is the consort injured?"
As the words fell, the stinging pain at her neck surged up densely. Chi Ying instinctively reached up to touch it, her fingertips coming away with a smear of crimson blood.
Prince Zhao was fastidious about cleanliness, Aunt Fangchun had mentioned this—
A blind person is especially sensitive to smells. Afterward, she would need to have someone clean up. Bodily fluids and scents could not remain in the room, lest they disturb His Highness's sleep.
Just now, he must have smelled the blood on her.
Unfortunately, her own handkerchief had fallen in the carriage when she was taken hostage by the assassins.
Chi Ying hesitated for a moment, then reached out to accept it: "Thank you, Your Highness."
But as she took the handkerchief, her fingertips inadvertently touched the man's fingers. The cool, jade-like sensation startled her so much she jerked back as if electrocuted.
Fortunately, the wound on her neck wasn't deep, only seeping a little blood. Chi Ying slowly wiped it clean, then carefully wiped away the bloodstains on her face and the corners of her eyes.
This handkerchief, like its owner, carried the cool scent of sandalwood incense.
Yet gods and Buddhas are compassionate, saving all sentient beings, this handkerchief was now stained with glaring blood.
It left one in a daze, unable to distinguish whether it carried the scent of incense or the aura of death.
Chi Ying folded the handkerchief neatly and said softly: "Later, I'll wash it and return it to Your Highness."
Prince Zhao rubbed his fingers together. A phantom warmth seemed to linger there. Under the skin and flesh, something invisible and intangible seemed to burrow in with an itch. He furrowed his brow tightly, a flash of barely perceptible irritation crossing between his eyebrows.
The carriage slowly stopped outside the Prince of Zhao's manor.
Chi Ying had been anxious since they hadn't even left Chengxian Street, worrying about whether or not she should help Prince Zhao down from the carriage when they reached the manor gates.
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Prince Zhao couldn't see. As his consort, she should naturally attend to him.
But from the bottom of her heart, she didn't want too much contact with Prince Zhao. This man was more dangerous than she'd imagined. The more she said, the more mistakes she had make. Better to keep a respectful distance.
After much deliberation, Chi Ying finally settled on her words: "This consort's hands are stained with filth. I fear offending Your Highness. Perhaps it would be better to ask Your Highness's personal guard to lend a hand."
Prince Zhao gripped the bamboo staff beside him, his voice tinged with amusement: "The consort is indeed thorough in her considerations."
Chi Ying couldn't shake the feeling that there was a mocking tone in those words. Not daring to think too much, she quickly descended from the carriage.
Prince Zhao followed, leaning forward, his bamboo staff tapping the ground as he slowly descended. Without needing assistance, he walked steadily and evenly. Aside from moving somewhat slowly, he was no different from an ordinary person.
The evening breeze caressed gently, moonlight like water. The man's refined, tall figure was enveloped in a layer of silvery-white radiance, making him appear all the more godlike and supremely elegant. In his every movement, there was no sign whatsoever of a dying man.
He tapped his bamboo staff lightly, slowly approaching. His dark, solitary shadow step by step devoured the moonlight at her feet.
Chi Ying felt only a suffocating pressure in her chest, a chill down her spine. Silently, she retreated two steps.
She never expected he would easily detect it.
The corner of the man's lips curved up, seeming to smile yet not: "Is the consort afraid of me?”
TRANSLATOR: Hi everyone, i hope you enjoy this!
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