The majestic horse raced through the forest, scattering flowers and sweeping past leaves, moving with the speed of a meteor.
Though the mountain trail was rough, the rider remained steady; his left arm long and powerful, extended to hold a heavy bow with an arrow nocked and ready.
The official road leading out of the city was right across the stream. It was nearly time for the city gates to close, and there were few carriages or horses moving.
Today, he went to the Imperial Guards’ shooting range outside the city to practice archery. The other young masters accompanying him were bound by curfews, but Lu Lingcong, having departed the palace early to set up his own residence, was free from supervision. Therefore, they had all left for the city when it started to get dark.
Lu Lingcong’s horse was exceptionally swift, and with his waist token, he could have the city gates opened for him even if they were shut, so there was no need for him to rush back.
This forest was about ten-odd li from the city and had existed since Emperor Gaozong established the capital. It hadn’t been cut down for a century yet had only grown thick and densely over time.
In earlier years, this place was still teemed with prey animals, but recently, with human activity on the rise, they have nearly vanished.
Lu Lingcong happened to see a wild deer, which suddenly sparked the idea to urge his horse to pursue it in the opposite direction.
In the darkness, such nimble creatures put one’s eyesight into the ultimate test.
When Lu Lingcong was young, he practiced martial arts with Cui Xian and used to train his eyes from dawn till dusk. Back then, perched on the Taihu stone in the Imperial Garden, he could strike the tassel of a palace lantern beneath the Wu family’s eaves with a single arrow.
Seeing that the distance between his horse’s hooves and the prey was already within the arrow range, Lu Lingcong was about to release the arrow when he was startled by a chill wind near his ear. A slender black shadow streaked by. By the time he quickly shifted his aim and released the arrow, hot liquid was already trickling down his cheek from the corner of his right eye.
Lu Lingcong’s eyes suddenly narrowed, his pupils darkening. He wiped the streak of blood with his left thumb, tasting its metallic sweetness.
He spat to the side, leaned forward with his chin on the horse’s mane, and suddenly urged the horse onward. In an instant, he was gone. Several cold arrows behind him pierced the ground almost right behind the horse’s hind hooves.
It was silent all around. Lu Lingcong didn’t know how many people were shooting arrows, nor how far away they were from him.
But if he stopped, he was afraid he would be besieged.
Lu Lingcong had no time to think about why these people were here.
He questioned himself, believing he had not offended anyone who could afford such assassins—people who not only knew his every movement as if reading from a script, but could even foresee that he would chase that wild deer farther into the forest.
Night had fully fallen, yet the pursuers behind him remained just as relentless.
Lu Lingcong was not very familiar with the terrain of this forest, but judging from the direction he had just changed, this group of people should be forcing him onto the official road.
If he reached the official road, he would be exposed while his enemies stayed hidden, and with no villages or inns nearby, escaping would become truly difficult.
The horse was raised by the Prince’s Mansion and was as fast as a strong wind, but after galloping at full speed for half a day, its stamina gradually gave out. Just as the faint glimmer of a stream came into view, an arrow finally struck one of its hind legs, and the horse faltered.
Lu Lingcong swore silently to himself, resolving that the next time he went out, he would ride his own white horse granted by the emperor.
He swung his bow up to deflect an arrow that skimmed past. With his left hand, he drew the dagger at his waist and drove it hard into the horse’s hindquarters. The horse let out a long, piercing neigh, reared up, and leapt across the stream, crashing down onto the official road.
Lu Lingcong’s eyes were keen. He immediately caught sight of a lone rider rushing ahead. In a heartbeat, he rose from his own saddle, used it as a springboard, pushed off with the tip of his toe, and vaulted through the air to land squarely on the other horse. The next second, he pressed the still blood-stained dagger against the neck of the person in front of him while commanding in a cold voice: “Control the reins and enter the woods!”
That person hesitated for a moment and seemed to tremble slightly against Lu Lingcong’s back but immediately followed his command, turning the horse’s head and stepping into the stream. The horse’s hooves rose and fell, sending sprays of water that drenched their shoes and socks.
Lu Lingcong threw the dagger back into its sheath and drew three arrows in quick succession from the quiver on his back, hitting several assassins who hadn’t had time to retreat into the woods, finally getting a chance to return fire at this persistent group.
He immediately jabbed the person’s lower back with the hilt of the dagger and whispered close to their ear, “Go deeper into the woods.”
Once he no longer had to worry about controlling the horse and could focus entirely on handling the danger, the number of arrows whistling past him dropped sharply.
Thanks to his rigorous training in childhood, Lu Lingcong’s accuracy was astonishing. For every attack, he had a counter. The moment he spotted an arrow being drawn, he ensured no second shot could follow.
However, Lu Lingcong couldn’t figure out exactly how many people were left behind him. Once he ran out of arrows, he would only be able to offer his neck for the slaughter, with no power to resist.
He concentrated and listened for a moment. Besides the sound of horse hooves and the whistling wind, he also heard the faint gurgling sound of running water.
The stream wound steadily into the mountains. Nearer its source, the water was likely a bit deeper than the official road, and the riverbed would be strewn with more rocks. Perhaps he could use the terrain to hide.
Lu Lingcong also didn’t want this unlucky person he had grabbed by the roadside to die for him. He turned and shot his last arrow, sending the leading assassin to the afterlife. He then threw down his bow and quiver, seized the shoulders of the person in front of him, and realized that this person was so thin that their bones dug into his hands.
He spoke extremely quickly: “Get into the water.”
That person actually had time to let out an “En.”
The path ahead abruptly turned due to the mountain and the stream’s course. Lu Lingcong silently counted to three in his mind, focused on the brief blind spot at the corner, and yanked the rider, hurling them both toward the edge of the path. As they fell from the horse, his forearm shielded the back of the rider’s head, and they tumbled straight into the water.
Even in the height of summer, the cold of plunging into the water was unrelenting.
The water was too shallow near the path. He struggled, half swimming, half wading, to steer clear of the bank where grass and trees were sparse.
The assassins’ night vision was excellent, at least no worse than Lu Lingcong’s. They would surely turn back to look once they found no one on the saddle ahead.
However, the previous bend was momentary. They couldn’t determine whether Lu Lingcong had escaped or been shot down, so they would inevitably split up—some searching along the forest path, some entering the woods to search. This would mean fewer people would be able to cover this stream.
It was hard to say on the ground, but Lu Lingcong was confident he could evade them by water.
Lu Lingcong pressed one hand on the person’s shoulder and hooked the other around their waist while feeling their way toward the deeper part of the stream.
As the sounds of the messy horse hooves grew louder, he intentionally slowed his movements, trying his best not to create too much disturbance in the water’s surface.
The stream in this area was open to the sky. If it were daytime, the sun could probably shine right to the bottom. Lu Lingcong did not find a half-enclosed, rugged rock formation protruding from the bank to conceal himself beneath until he could hear human voices.
“The stagnant water is too shallow. He can’t hide!”
The voice sounded right nearby. The horse hooves must have been stepping on the rocks right above their heads.
Another slightly hoarse voice whispered, “You don’t know who he is? Dismount and search the water!”
Lu Lingcong was instantly startled. His movements outpaced his thoughts. Before he could even warn that unlucky person to hold their breath, his hand fumbled across their chest, confirming their gender first. He decisively tightened his arms, took a deep breath, sealed the person’s lips, arched his upper body, and immediately submerged underwater.
That person’s already slender body was nearly turned sideways by him, curled into the tightest possible ball, with the water just barely covering their heads.
Just as the sound of splashing water nearly burst into his ears, a loud shout suddenly came from the direction where the horse had been released: “There’s a shoe here!”
Lu Lingcong was momentarily stunned upon hearing this and instantly furrowed his eyebrows. They had rolled off the horse at the turn. How could a shoe fall on the path ahead?
But he couldn’t spare time to think about it. The two people on the bank heard the noise, withdrew their feet, which had already been lowered into the water, and led their horses away to check. Lu Lingcong’s frantically beating heart skipped a beat. He exhaled slowly, and only when the sound of footsteps above had completely faded did he gradually straighten, lifting his head out of the water.
A few faint rays of moonlight glimmered on the stream beside them. The sky and water, cast in half-light and half-shadow, still called for quiet and cautious.
He stayed alert like a wild beast for a long while, finally confirming that the area was entirely empty. He let out a silent sigh of relief, only then realizing that the unfortunate person was still in his arms; his arm wrapped around their waist.
Lu Lingcong looked closely. A few stray hairs fell across his forehead, yet they couldn’t conceal the sharp bone structure of that face. His skin was as fair as the moonlight, and those thin lips had been gently pulled up into a subtle smile at him not long ago—
The moment he recognized the person, Lu Lingcong drew the dagger at his waist once more, pressing it horizontally against Xie Jing’s throat.
They were still maintaining the intimate posture of an embrace with their bodies pressed tightly together. The stream water soaked through the light summer fabric, pressing against the skin beneath, which seemed eager to be revealed.
The “unlucky person”, Xie Jing, did not flinch even slightly from the icy touch against his neck. Instead, his gaze was clear, and he coldly scrutinized the person in front of him who had just felt his chest, sealed his mouth, and was now showing murderous intent.
After a moment, he actually let out a chilling, almost whispered laugh: “If the assassins were truly from the Xie family, Your Highness would not be alive right now.”
Lu Lingcong and Xie Jing’s eyes were tightly locked. One was filled with shock and suspicion, the other completely unyielding. They faced each other with great tension for an unknown amount of time, until the silver glint of the dagger finally dimmed little by little and dropped into the water.
In that moment, the awkwardness of having his chest touched, and his lips sealed began to quietly seep through every point where their bodies met.
Lu Lingcong, having been under extreme mental stress for half the night, had reacted somewhat excessively.
He knew Xie Jing was right—if the assassins were from the Xie family, he would have been killed the moment he jumped onto Xie Jing’s horse.
It was simply Xie Jing’s misfortune to be passing along the official road at that very moment, allowing Lu Lingcong to intercept him.
The two sides were silent for a long time before Lu Lingcong spoke first: “You came out of the city alone?”
Xie Jing’s shoulder was resting against the hollow of his neck; he nodded: “My elder brother returned to the capital today. I went out of the city to meet him.”
In truth, that wasn’t the only reason—his older brother was a grown man and hadn’t brought any supplies with him, so there was no need for anyone to make a special trip outside the city to receive him.
Xie Jing originally wanted to take the opportunity to ride his horse outside the city and clear his mind.
After the Dragon Boat Festival, two more imperial decrees arrived from the palace successively.
The first stated that His Majesty had specially summoned the abbot of Jiming Temple to perform a divination, selecting the seventh day of the first lunar month next year as the auspicious date for the marriage between Prince Zhao and Young Master Xie—this was nothing major. While Xie Yi was still frowning, Xie Jing had already accepted it calmly.
The second was to order Xie Jing, in his capacity as the prospective Princess Consort Zhao, to enter Linhai Hall, where the Empress resided, to begin the education of his second son, Lu Lingzhang—this time, even Xie Jing couldn’t remain aloof and had been feeling quite a headache and mental fatigue for days.
The reason for emphasizing this layer of marital relationship was that the Empress was not Lu Lingcong’s birth mother. If Xie Jing entered the inner palace with his official title of “Compiler of the Hanlin Academy,” it would be largely inappropriate according to court etiquette. Furthermore, Lu Lingzhang was only six years old, so there was no taboo between a nephew and an aunt-in-law.
Xie Jing could, of course, naively interpret this as the emperor being particularly fond of him, his prospective son-in-law, to the extent of appointing him a tutor to his young legitimate, but he didn’t believe he possessed that much charm.
The relationship “Once a teacher, always a father” often implies alignment of positions and interests within the palace and officialdom, especially for the junior tutors and teachers of the princes.
According to general opinion, if Xie Jing were not Lu Lingcong’s wife, he would be tacitly recognized as Lu Lingzhang’s future confidant.
The emperor’s intentions were hard to fathom. The emperor saw the growing conflict between his legitimate son and his eldest son surging beneath the surface of the court yet still nonchalantly assigned the eldest son’s future princess consort to teach his legitimate son. No one could clearly see whether he intended to test Prince Zhao, the Empress, or the Xie family.
Or perhaps, all of them were merely pawns in his hands.
Lu Lingcong looked up at the high moon and did not continue the conversation.
By his reckoning, Xie Jing’s elder brother had probably already entered the city and returned home. At this moment, the entire family must be frantically searching for him, the young master.
He was just thinking about how to subtly express his apology when he suddenly heard Xie Jing speak with a hint of helplessness: “Your Highness, please let go of me first.”
Lu Lingcong’s body stiffened, and he immediately let go of the arm wrapped around Xie Jing’s waist as if he had been burned, allowing him to stand steady in the water.
Xie Jing quietly edged away from Lu Lingcong in the darkness, but a sudden stab of pain flared in his right ankle. He had likely bruised it on the rocks in the streambed while scrambling after the fall from the horse.
He let out a soft “hiss.” Seeing this, Lu Lingcong instinctively moved to help, but Xie Jing already staggered half a step and braced himself against the rock.
Lu Lingcong quietly withdrew his hand: “We shouldn’t stay here long.”
“Returning to the city is also risky; we might run into them again.” Xie Jing replied.
Lu Lingcong looked at him, thought for a moment, and seemed to make a decision: “I know a place where we can take shelter for the night. You…”
Xie Jing let out a nearly inaudible sigh: “Let’s go.”
Lu Lingcong went ashore first. He had no other injuries besides the cut on his forehead and was able to move normally.
When Xie Jing came out of the water, Lu Lingcong instinctively pulled him. When the person stood still, he was stunned—Xie Jing was still wearing a shoe on his left foot, but his right foot was only covered by a white sock stained with muddy water.
Lu Lingcong stammered slightly: “That shoe—”
Xie Jing’s face gave nothing away. He didn’t seem inclined to explain and just said in an even voice, “I left it on purpose.”
When Lu Lingcong said, “get into the water,” Xie Jing grasped his intent at once and readied himself immediately.
He freed his right foot from the boot. The sole of the shoe had some thickness, allowing it to hang loosely on the stirrup for a while, even without a foot inside.
When they rolled into the water while the horse was still galloping forward, the shoe would gradually loosen due to the jolting and fall onto the side of the road, creating the false impression that they had fallen from the horse further ahead.
Lu Lingcong looked at Xie Jing’s foot, then at Xie Jing’s face, and then at his own feet. Finally, with a gesture of surrender, he turned and dropped to one knee in front of him before muttering, “Get on my back.”
There was no movement behind him for a moment, so Lu Lingcong added, “A bridal carry is fine too. You choose.”
Ordinarily, Xie Jing would never have let His Highness Prince Zhao lower himself to carry him, even if his own feet were shattered, much less allow himself to be held in his arms.
But the present was different. The faster they left this place, the safer they would be. And given the current condition of his foot, walking on his own would clearly only slow Lu Lingcong down.
Xie Jing clenched his teeth and shut his eyes. As if marching to his fate, he stepped forward, looped his arms around Lu Lingcong’s neck, and let his weight settle against his back.
Having practiced martial arts for many years, Lu Lingcong carried the slender Xie Jing with considerable ease and didn’t slow his pace at all. The dampness in the summer air made the soaked Xie Jing feel a trace of coolness, causing him to shiver slightly.
The direction they were walking in was opposite to the one they had taken. Xie Jing was unfamiliar with it, but Lu Lingcong said it was away from the official road.
Leaving the woods and getting onto the main road, he found a post station, used his waist token to acquire a horse, and headed straight for Mount Tang, in the far eastern suburbs of Jinling City.
“This is the closest place to stop,” Lu Lingcong explained. “It’s a detached manor belonging to my maternal uncle’s family.”
Xie Jing and Lu Lingcong had switched positions on horseback. This time, Lu Lingcong was leaning against Xie Jing’s back while holding the reins. He felt the shoulder blades of the person in front of him digging into his embrace, feeling as though they could be crushed with a little force.
But upon careful reflection, Lu Lingcong mused; Xie Jing’s riding skills were actually quite good.
Lu Lingcong’s birth mother, Noble Consort Wu, came from a merchant family with a solid financial foundation and owned several properties inside and outside the capital.
The emperor had planned to give official posts to her uncles and brothers, but they all declined politely.
As a secondary consort who bore the eldest son, if there were high-ranking maternal relatives to rely on in the court, it would likely arouse vigilance and suspicion, and Lu Lingcong’s safe upbringing until now would not have been guaranteed.
The Wu family’s detached manor was at the foot of Mount Tang, indeed the closest and safest place they could find.
Although called a detached manor, it was actually several exquisite pavilions and verandas built over a hot spring, consistently staffed with servants for food and daily life. When the owners were absent, it was locked, hidden by bamboo and forest, forming a secluded paradise.
The person who answered the door was a sleepy-eyed middle-aged servant. He was stunned to see Lu Lingcong, clearly not expecting the little highness of his young lady to show up at the door in the dead of night with his face injured while carrying a beauty of uncertain gender on his back.
Lu Lingcong had clearly been here more than once. He walked directly to the inner courtyard and casually ordered, “Brew a bowl of ginger soup, find some medicinal wine and gauze, and prepare two sets of clean clothes as well.”
The servants felt that something serious had happened, thinking that perhaps the little highness had played too roughly during some activity and injured the person. Just as they were getting anxious, they heard Lu Lingcong continue:
“Send a swift messenger with my token into the city to report to the Xie’s Mansion. Say that Young Master Xie was injured on his way out of the city, that I encountered him and brought him back to our manor, that he is fine, and that I will send him back tomorrow morning at daybreak.”
The servant looked closely upon hearing this and realized that the beauty was indeed Young Master Xie. He had barely exhaled in relief when he remembered that this person would soon move into the Prince’s Mansion, and he turned to stare at them both, even more astonished.
Lu Lingcong’s face was grim: “Only a foot injury, nothing else.”
The servant meekly agreed and scurried away.
Lu Lingcong seemed to recall something, slightly turning his head to look at Xie Jing out of the corner of his eye while frowning to confirm, “You don’t have any other injuries, right?”
The mountain’s summer air eased the heat but mingled with the dampness seeping through their soaked clothes, making it extremely uncomfortable.
Lu Lingcong ignored Xie Jing tapping his shoulder to say, “I can walk these two steps”, and carried him straight to the hot spring before settling him on a rattan mat on the sitting couch beside the pool.
Lu Lingcong squatted down in front of him. He found Xie Jing’s wary expression amusing and chuckled, “Take off your sock, let me take a look.”
Xie Jing didn’t move, so Lu Lingcong continued: “If you don’t take it off, I’ll do it myself.”
When Lu Lingcong grasped his ankle, Xie Jing reflexively curled his toes.
His instep was high, and the snow-white skin concealed winding blue veins.
But Lu Lingcong’s hand didn’t linger long on that delicate area. His fingertip pressed firmly on the joint, and then he let go.
“Just a sprain. It’ll be fine in a few days.”
The medicinal wine and gauze had already been delivered. Lu Lingcong skillfully treated the wound on his forehead. He then took off his upper garment, kicked off both shoes, and said as he stepped into the spring water, “Going from cold to hot makes you prone to catching a chill. Get in and warm up.”
Shadows flickered outside. A maid put down a bowl and spoon and whispered from behind the screen, “Your Highness, the ginger soup is ready.”
Lu Lingcong answered, “You all go and rest.”
The maid left without further mention. Lu Lingcong turned around in the spring water and looked at Xie Jing through the hazy mist, raising his chin to indicate the ginger soup.
Xie Jing did not immediately respond but sat looking blankly at the rising heat for a long time. Judging that the soup had cooled enough not to scald his mouth, he finally rose from the couch, hopped one foot to the screen, picked up the bowl, and drank it in one gulp.
The candlelight was dim and hazy, casting Xie Jing’s silhouette onto the screen. He put down the bowl, stood up straight, removed his outer garment, and with his slender, defined forearms, slowly undid his long hair. Then, step by step, he moved to the edge of the pool, slowly entered the water, pressed his back against the pool wall, and submerged everything below his neck.
Xie Jing wiped his face with a wet hand, dampening the hair at his temples. He looked up and saw that on the other side, shrouded in steam, Lu Lingcong’s upper body was mostly exposed, his muscle lines smooth as if cast, not overly bulky but firm and strong.
He narrowed his eyes and looked away. Lu Lingcong, however, suddenly said: “I was rash just now. Those people—”
Xie Jing did not let him continue the explanation: “If Your Highness does not trust me, there is no need to say more to me.”
He calmly looked at Lu Lingcong. “I will not mention today’s events to a third person.”
Lu Lingcong looked at his extremely tactful expression and was momentarily speechless. After a long while, he sighed, “I trust you.”
To be precise, he trusted the Xie family. Years ago, when He Gao was demoted and transferred, he had privately told Lu Lingcong, who was not yet a prince[mfn]Fyi, he was always a prince, but his later prince status after he established his own mansion is higher.[/mfn], who among the civil and military officials in court could be trusted in a crisis. Xie Yi was on the “trustworthy” list—He Gao’s exact words were, “Lord Xie is upright and incorruptible, he can be relied upon.”
Xie Jing was slightly surprised upon hearing this and steadily scrutinized Lu Lingcong.
Although he was only unlucky to be drawn into tonight’s incident, listening to the conversation between the two assassins above their heads, Xie Jing could deduce that the attackers were premeditated and well-prepared. At this critical moment, it was obvious why the other party was so intent on killing Lu Lingcong.
And if even Xie Jing could figure it out, how could Lu Lingcong, the person involved, not?
Since he understood the situation yet still spoke the almost laughable words “I trust you,” it was a clear signal of his true intention: perhaps he didn’t fully trust him before, but he hoped to be able to trust him going forward—
Prince Zhao had to resign himself to this ill-fated marriage and was simply going with the flow, beginning to seek the allegiance of the Xie family.
He tentatively responded, “Since Your Highness trusts me, then perhaps you should be frank with me first?”
Lu Lingcong pondered for a moment, then said concisely, “I entered the woods chasing a wild deer. There must have been an ambush prepared in the woods.”
“Does Your Highness enjoy hunting?”
“Not particularly, but it has been a long time, and I felt a bit restless.”
“How long has it been?”
“Three or four years perhaps. Half a month ago, Emperor Father mentioned this year’s autumn hunt, and I even said I wanted to attend—”
Lu Lingcong abruptly stopped speaking here before looking at Xie Jing in astonishment, clearly having realized something.
Xie Jing was expressionless, cutting straight to the point: “Who was present before His Majesty at that time?”
Lu Lingcong closed his eyes, recalling every detail of his audience with the emperor that day, and finally spoke slowly: “Besides Emperor Father, there were only two inner palace attendants.”
Xie Jing pressed, “No one else?”
Lu Lingcong stated with certainty, “No.”
Xie Jing was silent for a moment, then began his unhurried analysis: “That forest is near the official road. Normally, there wouldn’t be wild deer there—the deer and the people were in collusion. They capitalized on Your Highness’s ‘momentary restlessness.’ Therefore, if Your Highness is absolutely certain that there were no outsiders present before His Majesty that day, then…”
The sentence was left unfinished, but Lu Lingcong already understood his meaning. Was it one of those two palace attendants who was eavesdropping, or—
It was clearly a midsummer night, yet a bone-chilling cold shot straight up Lu Lingcong’s spine to his head, instantly spreading through his limbs and bones.
