Chapter 12.2

In his other hand, a dagger had appeared at some point. A cold gleam flashed as it swept past Su Jiao’s neck —

Thud —

The figure lurking in the shadows could hold his position no longer. He burst out in an instant, long sword driving straight for Xie Yan.

Xie Yan didn’t even look. The dagger flew from his hand and struck the man squarely in the chest at half a step’s distance. The man’s sword swiped through the hanging foliage, shearing off half a branch. Before he could even cry out in pain, a severed finger, trailing blood and dirt, tumbled and came to rest at Su Jiao’s feet.

“Ahh—”

The screams of the assassin and Su Jiao nearly sent the pavilion roof flying.

Xie Yan glanced over with impatience.

“Must you be so loud?”

The instinct she had honed before a tyrant in a past life made Su Jiao swallow the cry at once, but the sight of the severed finger at her feet still frightened her terribly.

The memory of what had been done to fingers in the prison of her past life rose up, and her stomach lurched again. Had Xie Yan of this lifetime already begun to take after the version she had known before?

She instinctively grabbed Xie Yan’s sleeve, and when she looked up, her face was pale.

“Xie… Xie Yan.”

Xie Yan bowed his head and used one hand to wipe the blood that had splattered onto her face.

But that very gesture, witnessed by the assassin, seemed to reignite something in him — he gathered his strength and charged again, sword aimed directly at Xie Yan.

He was sent flying without question.

He landed on his back, vomiting a mouthful of blood, and lay sprawled on the ground with only his eyes visible, staring upward.

Xie Yan was still turned aside, wiping the blood from her face. Su Jiao glanced sideways and her eyes met the assassin’s directly.

In the instant she saw his eyes, Su Jiao froze.

His eyes, as they looked toward her, were filled with… worry?

“That hurts…”

Xie Yan’s hand pressed down a little harder, Su Jiao furrowed her brow, and the assassin immediately moved to surge forward again.

Hm?

A suspicion had already taken root in Su Jiao’s mind, and her expression shifted.

“The blood is so troublesome — no matter how I wipe it, it won’t come clean. My Lady the Prince’s Consort, how do you suggest we deal with this person?”

Xie Yan was frowning at the blood on her face. Su Jiao came back to herself.

“Perhaps…”

“Should we skin him and throw him outside? Or cut out his tongue? Or perhaps those hands of his, having no sense of what they’re doing…”

With each thing Xie Yan said, Su Jiao felt the air leave her lungs. Why did this Xie Yan, so early in this lifetime, seem even more unhinged than before?

Had he been like this in the days before this?

She grabbed Xie Yan’s hand and tried to steer him away from that line of thinking.

“There’s no need to be so cruel.”

“Is it cruel?”

Xie Yan tilted his head and watched her — clearly terrified, yet still trying to reassure him.

“Not really cruel, either. For an assassin like this, killing him outright settles it. No need to go digging out—”

As she spoke, Su Jiao glanced toward the assassin. He, hearing Xie Yan’s words, was struggling anew, and in the thrashing, a corner of a token hanging from his body was exposed.

The assassin trembled as he tried to cover it, but it had been more than enough for Su Jiao to see clearly.

It was the Su family’s token.

Could it be that her brother had sent him to protect her?

“Hm?”

The hand Xie Yan had resting against her cheek applied slight pressure, and Su Jiao snapped back to the present.

“That hurts!”

Before the words had even landed, tears had already filled her eyes.

Xie Yan was caught off guard for a rare moment.

“I didn’t press that hard…”

“It still hurts.”

Su Jiao clung to him with both hands and feet.

“Let’s go back and apply medicine. I can’t stand the sight of blood. Please, Your Highness?”

She was already pulling Xie Yan forward as she spoke.

Xie Yan let himself be dragged two steps before stopping.

“This man…”

“Never mind him. He’s most likely done for already. Your Highness shouldn’t dirty your hands.”

Su Jiao held his sleeve in an iron grip, afraid he might turn back and finish the man off.

For the second time since the guard who had delivered food earlier, Xie Yan had now confirmed it.

Su Jiao was deeply afraid of him killing people.

Or more precisely — afraid of him tormenting people.

How was it? Having witnessed too much in a past life, had she now been reborn hoping he would be a better man?

Bowing his head to look at the anxious expression on her face, Xie Yan became yet more certain of one thing.

The talk of separation must have genuinely been confused words spoken in the haze of just waking from rebirth.

If she truly wanted to leave, she could have simply left — why go to all this trouble?

Xie Yan hadn’t yet managed to say anything before Su Jiao had already tangled herself around him and was steering him out of the pavilion.

They had barely crossed the threshold when the assassin behind them gathered his last strength, launched himself upright, and scrambled over the wall, stumbling as he fled.

Xie Yan’s hand was already moving to give chase. In that split-second, Su Jiao spun around, grabbed his collar, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Husband.”

Xie Yan’s footsteps stopped dead.

****

The guard knelt before Su Wei, his breathing unsteady as he recounted everything that had happened in the pavilion.

When he finished, a long silence fell. The air above the dais turned cold and unpredictable.

The guard’s words kept circling in his mind.

She called him husband. And she said she was afraid of pain.

Words spoken in that coy, coaxing way…

Su Wei’s fists clenched tight, his eyes burning red.

Those words had once been meant for him.

“But the Third Prince is truly frightening — always saying things to scare her, and nearly using that dagger on her…

Had this subordinate not arrived in time…”

The guard’s voice was strained, and his account came close to making Su Wei rise to his feet and storm straight to Yongning Hall.

“No… he shouldn’t kill Jiao Jiao.”

Anxiety crept into Su Wei’s eyes.

If he brought Jiao Jiao away, he feared she would fall for Xie Yan again, just as she had in his dream.

But if he waited any longer, and she stopped being willing…

What should he do?

“No… elder brother will make you willing.”

Su Wei murmured under his breath. His gaze had already fallen on Mother Su standing in the courtyard admiring the flowers, and something cold and ruthless passed through his eyes.

****

With the assassin’s escape, Su Jiao finally let out a breath of relief. She turned and looked at the barely-visible lip print on Xie Yan’s cheek, curled her hand into a fist, and swallowed down the awkward feeling.

Never mind. Her brother would come to get her out soon enough.

Once she had the Huishui Condensed Dew Pill, she wouldn’t need to put on this act before this man any longer.

Her grip on Xie Yan’s arm grew tighter and tighter. The man lowered his head.

Recalling that brief, fleeting softness that had touched his face just moments ago, he ignored the warmth creeping at the tips of his ears and raised an eyebrow.

Look at that — all of it just to stay by his side and enjoy wealth and splendor later. She really had gone to extraordinary lengths.