Chapter 6: Could It Be That She Was Attracted to This Face…

Chapter 6: Could it be that she took a liking to this face?...

The torrential rain had turned the woods beside the official road into a scene of utter chaos. The blood of the slain black-clad assassins pooled on the ground, diluted by the rain and spreading outward in a ghastly, pale crimson hue, lending a chillingly ominous atmosphere to the surroundings.

The captured black-clad assassins knelt in neat rows, trembling at Xie Lingyu’s words.

Could this highborn maiden truly be handing over the right to decide their fate to the very man they had been hunting, now lying helpless on the ground?

This was nothing short of forcing them into a death trap.

The leader of the assassins, who had earlier arrogantly threatened to hack off Xiao Yanxing’s arm, now begged for mercy: “My lady, spare our worthless lives, and we pledge undying allegiance to you.”

This plea elicited a faint reaction from Xiao Yanxing. His eyes shifted slightly toward the leader, though his gaze remained icy and indifferent.

In contrast, Xie Lingyu’s previously soft smile vanished as she coldly uttered two words: “Enough.”

At her command, He Lanfang behind her reversed his grip on his long blade and slammed the hilt into the leader’s mouth. Blood immediately gushed from his lips, and after a hacking cough, he spat out several teeth.

Xie Lingyu gazed down at Xiao Yanxing, who lowered his eyes in silence, and spoke gently: “I don’t just take anyone.”

What she wanted was the future powerful minister—Xiao Yanxing.

Holding an umbrella over him, she waited patiently, her smile unwavering despite his continued silence.

Both wrath and grace coexisted seamlessly within her, as though she were born to wield them.

Even without knowing her identity, it was clear she was of natural-born nobility.

Xiao Yanxing leaned against the tree trunk. At those words, he could barely lift his eyelids, having used up all his strength.

The young maiden’s jet-black hair was pulled up elegantly. Her dark eyes seemed veiled by the pouring rain, misty and shimmering. Her long lashes fluttered slightly, hints of spring light shimmering in her eyes as she quietly observed Xiao Yanxing. Those strikingly beautiful eyes were unexpectedly clear and forthright.

She stated her terms bluntly, waiting to see if he would take the bait.

“All right.”

A whisper so soft and low, as if squeezed from his throat—hoarse, rough, yet unmistakably firm.

At his answer, Xie Lingyu’s face instantly brightened with a smile. The already beautiful girl now seemed to hold the glow of dawn in her eyes, as if the dark sky had suddenly cleared at that very moment.

Xiao Yanxing watched her blossoming smile, and inexplicably, his heart eased. A sudden, unburdened calm washed over him, and he passed out.

His sudden collapse startled Xie Lingyu.

She reached out to check his breath and, feeling its warmth, finally exhaled in relief.

“He Lanfang, carry him into the carriage immediately,” Xie Lingyu commanded without hesitation.

He Lanfang glanced at the mud-covered man on the ground, his face nearly unrecognizable beneath the grime, and couldn’t help but say, “My lady, this man is filthy. It wouldn’t be proper for him to ride with you.”

“Saving him comes first,” Xie Lingyu replied, unfazed.

Seeing her determination, He Lanfang said nothing more. He waved to the guards, who lifted the man and carried him into Xie Lingyu’s carriage.

As Xie Lingyu stood, she noticed someone standing beside He Lanfang and immediately recognized him as the one who had leapt from the tree earlier, saving Xiao Yanxing’s arm.

Noticing her gaze, He Lanfang explained, “My lady, this is the man I previously stationed at the relay station. He followed them alone and hid in the trees, waiting for the right moment to act.”

Xie Lingyu wasn’t oblivious—He Lanfang was clearly sticking up for this guard.

Just moments ago, everyone could see how much Xie Lingyu valued Xiao Yanxing.

He Lanfang was worried Xie Lingyu would hold the guard responsible for not rescuing Xiao Yanxing sooner.

“Well done. Though alone, you understood the situation and acted at the most critical moment,” Xie Lingyu said cheerfully, announcing publicly, “Upon our return, you’ll be rewarded with a year’s salary and promoted one rank.”

The guard immediately knelt. “Thank you, Your—”

Before he could finish, He Lanfang kicked him in the backside.

As he turned his head, he noticed a group of black-clad bandits nearby. Being sharp, he realized the princess’s identity couldn’t be exposed and promptly fell silent.

Their exchange, however, did not escape the black-clad bandit leader’s notice.

A sense of despair settled over him—he had no idea what kind of people he had provoked.

When he accepted this job, the client assured him the target was a nobody without influence, with nothing more than servants or stewards—an easy mark.

Yet now, it felt as if he had poked a hornet’s nest.

Outside, the rain continued to drizzle without end. The lingering February chill clung to the air, its icy fingers creeping through every crack, trying to coil into the palace halls.

*

Fortunately, the inner chambers were warm as spring, heated by underground channels. From the bronze crane-shaped incense burner nearby, wisps of smoke curled upward, wispy as gauze, filling the hall with a calming, subtle fragrance.

The man lying on the bed was deathly pale. His previously calm expression shifted as his brow furrowed slightly.

As if lost in a dream, he remained unconscious for a long time.

Xiao Yanxing was indeed dreaming—but it felt so vivid he could barely tell it apart from reality.

He saw himself dressed in crimson official robes, walking along a long, broad pathway. Raising his head, he beheld the tiered halls and pavilions in the distance and instantly recognized it as the Daming Palace.

The heart of Chang’an, the beating heart of Great Zhou.

But why was he here?

He didn’t understand, yet the dream version of himself strode forward without hesitation, clearly summoned for an audience.

As he neared the Ye Pond, the overcast sky suddenly unleashed a downpour. Drenched, he sought shelter and fortunately found a covered corridor nearby.

Once inside, raindrops rolled off his crimson robes, leaving him rather disheveled.

Xiao Yanxing watched himself lowering his head to straighten his clothes when a noise came from the other end of the corridor. Lifting his gaze, he saw a group approaching—led by a young woman with her dark hair coiled into an elegant high chignon. Though her face remained unclear, he instinctively sensed she must be ethereally beautiful.

Even stranger still, when she appeared, his heart pounded uncontrollably—as though he was overjoyed by her presence.

Who was she?

Whether due to the dream or some other reason, he still couldn’t see her face.

Then a maidservant stepped forward and asked softly, “My lord, are you without an umbrella? Please accept this humble offering.”

With that, she handed him a paper umbrella.

As he accepted the waxed-paper umbrella, the young lady soon departed with her entourage. When she turned, the red silk shawl embroidered with gold threads, loosely draped over her arm, fluttered in the wind like crimson mist swirling in the rain, drifting straight into his heart.

Yet he could only watch from afar, unable to approach her.

A deep, hollow ache spread through his chest, growing wilder until her figure vanished completely. Only then did Xiao Yanxing whisper involuntarily, "*Your Highness.*"

Who was *Your Highness*? Why had those words slipped so effortlessly from his lips?

Xiao Yanxing could make no sense of this dream. It seemed to be him, yet it didn’t feel like him.

And now, the ache in his chest began to intensify, turning into pain that radiated outward—from his heart to his very core—until his entire being felt suffocated, as if he couldn’t draw breath.

*Ding!*

A distant chime rang out from somewhere, as if rousing the man on the bed.

With a gasp, Xiao Yanxing’s eyes flew open.

The first thing he saw was the celadon-colored silk canopy overhead, its intricate embroidery swaying gently. The air carried a subtle, pleasant fragrance, and he was wrapped in a thick, warm brocade quilt.

This was not a place he recognized.

Alert, he shifted his gaze—only for his eyes to land on a face.

A young woman lay beside his bed, her cheek resting on her arm. Her porcelain skin bore a faint flush from the pressure, yet it didn’t mar her beauty; instead, it lent her a touch of youthful charm.

Her eyes were lightly shut—she must’ve dozed off.

Xiao Yanxing suddenly recalled what had happened before he lost consciousness. This was the young lady who had saved him.

As he studied her, a peculiar tingling crept over him. Looking closer, he realized the back of his right hand, resting on the quilt, was brushing against her hairline. The faint tingling sensation, unnoticed until now, sent ripples of warmth through his chest.

Perhaps uncomfortable from her position, the girl shifted slightly, her cheek pressing against his knuckles.

In that instant, his fingertips sank into something impossibly soft, like freshly set custard. The velvety contact jolted straight to his heart, catching him off guard.

For someone as stoic as Xiao Yanxing, such a reaction was rare indeed.

He swiftly withdrew his hand—but the sudden movement startled the lightly sleeping girl awake.

Xie Lingyu blinked away the drowsiness in her eyes, then lit up when she saw he was awake. “You’re up,” she mused.

Quite resilient.

The Medical Officer of Shangyang Palace had said his internal wounds were grave, with no telling when he’d wake. Yet here he was, conscious after just one night.

“Someone,” Xie Lingyu called, and an attendant stepped in at once. “Prepare some nourishing broth and bring the medicine that’s been warming.”

Xiao Yanxing watched her silently.

“Don’t worry, I saved your attendant as well. But his injuries are also serious—he’s recovering now. If you need anything these next few days, just ask these handmaidens.” She gestured to the servants standing nearby.

Xiao Yanxing observed them—all identically attired, their movements polished and poised, clearly not the kind of attendants common gentry households could train.

“Thank you,” Xiao Yanxing finally spoke, pushing himself upright with effort.

Having rolled about in the mud, he was unrecognizable when brought back, but now, after washing up, he cut a completely different figure.

Dressed in a plain white underrobe, his tall, lean frame stood out. His ghostly pale complexion made him appear even more frail. Yet his naturally refined and striking features lent an air of fragility laced with aloofness and icy elegance, giving him an aura like that of towering peaks or unfathomable depths—inscrutable and unreadable.

Even Xie Lingyu, who had seen much in her past life, couldn’t help stealing a few more glances.

No wonder he set young hearts in Chang’an aflutter—this face was worth it.

Perhaps realizing she had been staring too long, Xie Lingyu gave a light cough and casually offered an excuse: “Those who were chasing you—I brought them back as well.”

“But don’t worry,” she added with a faint smile, blinking slightly, “I didn’t interrogate them. I turned them over to you.”

Since she intended to win him over, she might as well go all the way.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t curious about who had sent the men after Xiao Yanxing.

After all, Xiao Yanxing wasn’t yet someone important at court—he shouldn’t have drawn any formidable enemies yet.

Xiao Yanxing slightly lowered his lashes, his eyes shadowed with mockery. He could easily detect the girl’s attempt at flattery, but he couldn’t fathom what this seemingly noble young woman wanted from him.

Recalling how she had stared at him earlier, Xiao Yanxing set his mouth in a hard line.

Could it be that she was taken with his looks?

If that were truly the case, he would never give her the satisfaction.