Fleeing the Wedding

But a true gentleman, refined and upright, would have no business lurking in the corner of an alley.

While the mantis stalks the cicada, the oriole waits behind.

Zhou Yao eyed Qi Yanhan warily, but Ling Long tugged at her sleeve and whispered, "Your Highness, your fiancé..."

Zhou Yao's face broke into a radiant smile. "Sir Qi, today is your wedding day. Why aren't you inside changing into your ceremonial robes and waiting at the manor?"

"That was my intention, but seeing Your Highness in distress, I could hardly stand by and watch."

If he couldn't stand by and watch, he'd still been hiding in that alley. A true coward, through and through.

They'd grown up together, childhood friends with a bond that went back years, yet for reasons she couldn't quite name, Zhou Yao could never stomach Qi Yanhan's sanctimonious posturing.

The man was handsome, his bearing confident, but those fox-like, ostensibly amorous eyes were always hiding calculations.

The sounds of fighting outside were fading. Zhou Yao knew time was running out; she needed to get to the city gates quickly.

She had no patience to spar with this man. Taking Ling Long's hand, she moved to slip around him.

Before she could take a step, shadow guards materialized from nowhere, blocking their path.

The man remained where he was, hands folded before him, watching their futile efforts with an amused smile.

Beneath that gentle facade lurked venom.

"Since Your Highness came to me of her own accord, I would be remiss not to play the host. But I was supposed to marry you today, and now that the ceremony has been ruined—if His Majesty were to learn of this, I wonder if the princess would face punishment?"

Zhou Yao halted her step and turned to face him.

"What exactly do you want?"

She tried to read his intentions in his eyes, but Qi Yanhan's composure was impeccable; she couldn't catch a single crack.

She narrowed her eyes, mulling over his words.

Growing impatient, Zhou Yao said, "Neither of us wants this marriage. Why not take the opportunity to call it off? Even if Father later blames us, you can walk away unscathed. What's there to lose?"

She was certain he didn't want to marry her either—otherwise, why drag things out to this point?

A low chuckle reached her ears. "Your Highness has calculated the benefits quite cleverly. But you've overlooked one thing."

The sunset gilded half of Qi Yanhan's face, lending his gentle features a warmth that seemed almost genuine.

He closed the distance between them, as if no one else were present.

But what he said next sent a chill down Zhou Yao's spine.

"There will always be a marriage. Who ends up as my bride matters little to me."

"What I've wanted from the very beginning is only one thing..."

Qi Yanhan's slender fingers wound through a strand of Zhou Yao's hair as he whispered near her ear: "How about Your Highness and I turn this to our advantage?"

He didn't care who the marriage alliance was with. Compared to the other princesses, Zhou Yao—without any backing in the palace—was far easier to control, and better for his larger plans.

"What do you want?"

"What I want is simple." He glanced at the chaos outside the alley, then lightly pointed at Zhou Yao from a distance. "Please, Your Highness, come with me somewhere more suitable to discuss."

Inside the manor, bamboo shadows intertwined, pavilions reflected in the water, and faint birdsong drifted through the air.

The incense in the burner had long since expired, yet no servant came to replenish it.

On the table, a half-finished game of Go lay scattered—black and white stones evenly matched, one wrong move away from total defeat.

Zhou Yao's wound had been hastily bandaged.

"As I mentioned to Your Highness earlier, there is indeed something I desire." Qi Yanhan's fox-like eyes brimmed with mirth.

His gentle, unhurried manner gave no hint of his profound scheming.

"If I were to ask Your Highness to accompany the envoy to the Western Regions to retrieve a rare treasure, would you be willing?"

"What treasure?" Zhou Yao asked, puzzled.

Qi Yanhan smiled without answering, simply ordering servants to dress her in his likeness.

Throughout it all, he sat quietly at the table, flipping through scrolls, occasionally receiving whispered reports from visitors.

Under the servants' guidance, Zhou Yao gradually mastered the art of powder and brow-painting. Little deliberate effort was needed; their features already bore an eight or nine out of ten resemblance.

"What I want is the evidence of the Governor of Suzhou's corruption." He rose slowly, the jade ornaments at his waist chiming with every movement. "The evidence has been gathered. I'll trouble Your Highness to retrieve it."

"As for the marriage, I'll naturally keep it from His Majesty." A confident smile curved Qi Yanhan's lips. "Though we may be husband and wife in name, we can still treat each other with mutual respect."

And so Zhou Yao slipped out of the city, leaving Ling Long in safety at Qi Manor's estate outside the walls.

Time passed, and the envoy's caravan pushed onward, finally reaching Suzhou.

Night fell with a bright moon overhead; the crackle of burning firewood punctuated the stillness.

Thunk.

The sound of an arrow piercing wood.

In the dead of night, Zhou Yao sat up alertly, eyeing the arrow. Attached to its shaft was a note: "Mao hour, third quarter, beneath the ginkgo tree."

She immediately thought of Qi Yanhan's instructions. Tossing the note into the fire, she turned her gaze to the ginkgo tree she'd passed during the day.

Who was behind this? How did Qi Yanhan's influence reach even this desolate borderland?

Unable to wait until dawn, Zhou Yao rose and set out at once.

Beneath the ginkgo tree, two dark figures faced off, corpses scattered at their feet. The dead had met varied ends—some with arrows through the heart, others with throats slit by a single stroke.

Her brow furrowed; nausea rose in her throat. She pressed a hand to the wall and vomited.

Her retching drew attention. One of the figures broke away and sprinted straight toward her.

She grabbed a clay jar from beside her and hurled it at the attacker's head. He dodged—but that hesitation gave Zhou Yao her chance to flee.

Under the moonlight, the black-clad figure pulled down his mask.

Beneath it was a face Zhou Yao knew well...

Seeing that he gave up the chase, she stopped at the wall's base and looked back. The ground around the ginkgo tree was now clear of corpses.

At mao hour, third quarter, beneath the ginkgo tree.

Unlike the day before, a pit covered with a clay urn now marked the spot. Digging three more feet down, Zhou Yao found the box sealed with evidence of the Governor of Suzhou's corruption.

During the journey to the Western Regions, Zhou Yao heard countless tales and customs.

But somehow the governor had gotten wind of her mission and sent assassins to hunt her in the shadows.

At times she barely escaped with her life. Fortunately for her, fate had other plans.

The envoy would enter the city to pay respects to the local king. Finding that dull, Zhou Yao stayed behind at the camp, and when day broke, she wandered the nearby markets to soak in foreign customs.

"WER WER WER!!!" A long, pitiful howl erupted from somewhere unseen.

Zhou Yao wanted to ignore it, but the noise was impossible to dismiss.

She went to investigate and learned that a family, driven to desperation, had slaughtered their cattle and sheep—only for a stray dog to steal their meat. In response, they'd decided to kill the dog for hotpot, but even then, bystanders accused them of cruelty.

"Everyone, be the judge—does this dog deserve to die or not!"

Hearing the full story, Zhou Yao thought for a moment, then pulled a hairpin from her robes and bought the beagle from the family.

"This dog is a life, yes, but it stole from you first. This hairpin will feed your family of four for a year. I'm taking the dog with me."

—

Two years later, the envoy caravan returned laden with goods, but many men had died of thirst along the way. The desert around Dunhuang stretched endlessly, camel bells ringing as the caravan slowly made its way back toward Chang'an.

Sand obscured their vision, and the lead scout vanished without anyone noticing. Several units were quietly replaced. Before Zhou Yao realized what was happening, they were converging on the bundle she carried.

"Ah!" She was yanked from her camel, the sudden loss of balance seizing her heart.

"Hand over the goods, and I might let you live." The man pressed a blade to her throat.

Zhou Yao fought down her panic and, in a few breaths, conceived a plan.

"The... the intelligence is actually buried beneath the largest camel thorn bush to the north. I was told to stash it there."

She studied the man's expression, gauging his reaction.

With a fawning smile, she asked, "How about lowering the blade first? We can talk anything out. You've got all your men here—there's no way I could escape."

"Don't try any tricks."

"Yes, yes, of course."

They forced her to lead the way. With so little time, she couldn't prepare much of a ruse, so she decided to play it fast and loose.

While the group rested at a rare watering hole, she slipped a dose of the castor powder she'd brought from the Western Regions into the water. Not lethal, but enough to have them all running for the bushes for days.

Seizing the gap, Zhou Yao grabbed her beagle and bolted.

"Goddammit." The man, doubled over and clutching his stomach, cursed at her retreating back.

Outside the Jiayuguan Pass, the world was painted in shades of earth. Zhou Yao walked steadily across the sharp gravel of the Gobi.

The northwest truly lived up to its verse—a lone plume of smoke rises straight in the desert, a setting sun rounds the long river. Jiayuguan nestled at the foot of the Qilian Mountains, where glacial meltwater served as drinking water year-round.

She filled her canteens, ate her fill, and prepared to camp for the night.

Zhou Yao hadn't expected to feel such melancholy at the prospect of nearing home.

After all, four years ago she hadn't yet met the beagle, nor been charmed by the big-eared howling donkey's looks.

Back then, she'd been free...

There wasn't another creature in all of Chang'an that could wail like that thing.

The long, drawn-out sound of a horn echoed from afar.

Hoofbeats and whistles grew nearer. Before anyone could react, arrows rained down. The caravan's supplies—wine from the Western Regions, glassware, precious goods—were shattered in the onslaught.

Some who'd survived the endless desert died on the very border of home. Four years away, and they'd never get to see their parents, wives, or children waiting in Chang'an.

"Rong tribe attack—on guard!"

Amid the shouts, Zhou Yao looked in the opposite direction. As she suspected, behind the raiding party, a second unit had yet to join the fray.

She stepped over a body tangled in the camel's hooves and slipped away.

Her simple travel clothes couldn't block the wind or sand, but they didn't stop her from moving to draw their attention.

"Wer~ wer~!" At the worst possible moment, the beagle wouldn't stop howling, giving Zhou Yao a pounding headache.

With no choice, she tried to shove the idiot dog into a wooden crate while dodging arrows, but the more she hurried, the less the dog cooperated.

Furious, she nearly swung her blade to slap the beagle across the muzzle.

But she couldn't.

One look at that adorable face and her anger dissolved.

She set the beagle somewhere safe and made for the waiting enemy unit alone.

Water was scarce on the Gobi, so the caravan had swapped horses for camels—but now she needed a horse.

Using the blowing sand as cover, she crept closer and closer to the enemy leader.

One step...

Two steps...

Her blade nearly reached his throat.

"AWOO AWOO AWOO! AWOO!" The big-eared howling donkey's thunderous cry erupted behind her, drawing the entire unit's attention.

In an instant, Zhou Yao was pinned to the ground.

"Shit, almost got us with that sneak attack."

"If it hadn't been for that yapping dog, this brat might've actually pulled it off."

The men laughed and jested, treating it as nothing serious. One of them ground her face into the dirt.

"Well, well. Look at that—it's a girl, dressed up like a man, hahaha." The man crouched beside her, pinching her chin and leering.

None of them noticed the beagle that had just taken a massive dump on his boot.

Zhou Yao stared, dumbfounded.

She'd had that dog for almost two years now. It never did its business during the day—only when they got back to the tent. Because of that, the caravan leader had grumbled about her constantly, and every inn they stayed at, she'd had to pay the owner extra silver to cover the mess.

The tribesman, enraged by the beagle's sabotage, decided to finish off Zhou Yao first, then deal with the damn animal. As the blade came down, the beagle let out a frantic howl, startling the man so badly he dropped his weapon.

Zhou Yao snapped to her senses, grabbed the dog, and ran.

The man gave chase, but at the critical moment, an arrow whistled past Zhou Yao's ear—and struck the man straight through the heart. The precision was uncanny, like the arrow that had warned her all those years ago when she'd fled her wedding.

She spun toward the source, but found no one.

Only Gobi sand as far as the eye could see.

In all of Chang'an, there were barely a handful of archers with that kind of accuracy at such a distance. The only one who happened to be there every time...

Who was it?

She didn't have long to wonder. The Rong raiders were wiped out within the hour, corpses scattered across the dunes. And out of the swirling sand emerged the figure of the archer—Qi Yanhan.

He carried himself with an air of cultivated ease, every gesture bespeaking a noble household. Despite a slight pallor to his face, his energy was vigorous, far from the cold indifference his appearance suggested.

What a coincidence.

Once she handed over the evidence, their transaction would be complete. From then on, they'd go their separate ways—bridges apart, roads diverging.

Two nearly identical faces stood in the same place, at the same moment.

They looked at each other and both saw the laughter in the other's eyes.

Before Qi Yanhan could speak, the beagle in Zhou Yao's arms wriggled free and bolted straight for the jade pendant at his waist, tail wagging furiously.

The man's pendant clattered to the ground, shattering on the sharp gravel—a fine piece of mutton-fat jade, ruined in an instant.

Zhou Yao stammered, "Sorry... I'll give you the dog as compensation, and I'll throw in half a month's worth of dog food."