Chapter 18: Desire to Escape

Chapter 18 Attempting to Flee

The mountain forest lay silent, the moon casting long, ethereal shadows.

Zhou Shuisheng had tumbled down the slope, now barely conscious.

In his dazed state, he faintly felt someone patting his face. He struggled to open his eyes, seeing a man in black crouching before him, holding a lantern.

He didn't recognize the man, but the primal instinct for survival compelled him to plead, "Please, save me."

His legs were useless, and a gaping wound on his abdomen steadily oozed blood.

The mountain night was bone-chilling. Without help, he would surely perish here.

The man in black offered no reply, merely rising and stepping aside.

A figure in frost-white robes emerged from behind him.

Zhou Shuisheng’s gaze traced from the hem of the white robe upward, finally settling on a face as exquisite as an immortal’s.

He had seen this man just two days prior at the Wei residence, where he had spoken to him with gentle words.

"Young Master Wei!" Zhou Shuisheng exclaimed, as if witnessing a divine apparition, his excitement surging. "Young Master Wei, please save me."

Wei Mingjin, gathering his robes, crouched down, his expression one of concern. "You're injured? Who did this to you?"

"It was that harlot, Xin He!"

Wei Mingjin appeared astonished. "Aunt Xin! Aren't you from the same village? Why would she harm you?"

"Because I know that harlot’s secret. She wanted to kill me to silence me." Zhou Shuisheng gasped in pain. "Young Master Wei, that harlot isn't carrying Master Wei's posthumous child at all—she’s carrying a bastard! Save me, and I’ll spread this far and wide. Then all the inheritance left by Master Wei will belong to you alone."

Wei Mingjin lowered his eyes, feigning disbelief. "You mustn't speak so carelessly."

"I'm not speaking carelessly. Before that harlot became a concubine in the Wei household, she stayed at the Drunken Moon Pavilion. The bastard in her womb was conceived there."

Blinded by hatred, Zhou Shuisheng utterly failed to notice the momentary deepening of color in the eyes of the man before him when he mentioned that Xin He’s child was conceived at the Drunken Moon Pavilion.

But in an instant, Wei Mingjin reverted to his gentle and refined demeanor.

"We’ll discuss this later. First, move your hand away and let me see your wound."

Zhou Shuisheng didn’t hesitate, complying immediately.

The next moment, the sickening thud of a dagger piercing flesh abruptly shattered the silent night.

Zhou Shuisheng’s eyes flew open in disbelief. He stared at the ethereal Wei Mingjin before him. "Wh-why..."

Wei Mingjin lowered his gaze, offering no answer, merely twisting the dagger slowly.

Zhou Shuisheng’s body convulsed violently as more and more blood gushed from his abdomen, staining his monk’s robe crimson.

Soon, Zhou Shuisheng’s eyes were wide and unmoving.

Chi Yan reached out to check his neck, then reported to Wei Mingjin, "Young Master, he's dead."

Only then did Wei Mingjin withdraw the dagger, wipe the blood clean on the monk’s robe, and rise to leave.

Chi Yan tentatively asked, "Young Master, what about this man..."

"Leave him be."

Chi Yan acknowledged, immediately picking up the lantern to follow Wei Mingjin.

Meanwhile, Xin He was crouching by the water channel in the temple.

The winter night’s pond water was piercingly cold, yet Xin He seemed oblivious, repeatedly washing her hands and the bloodstains on her sleeves.

The bloodstains were quickly washed away by the flowing water, and her hands were thoroughly cleaned. Yet, Xin He couldn’t shake the feeling that the sticky, warm scent of blood lingered.

She rubbed her hands incessantly until they were nearly numb from the cold before stopping.

She had killed someone!

She had killed someone!

Overwhelming panic surged within her, threatening to drown her.

In the profound silence of the night, the sound of monks debating Buddhist teachings suddenly emerged. Xin He, as if waking from a dream, immediately lifted her skirt and stumbled behind a tree.

Two monks emerged from behind the moon gate, engrossed in their back-and-forth debate on Buddhist teachings. They gradually walked away until their figures disappeared completely.

Xin He dared not delay any longer and retraced her steps back to the guest courtyard.

The guest courtyard was quiet; the maids and matrons who had come with her had already retired. Xin He easily climbed in through the windowsill, but her knees gave way, and she collapsed to the floor.

The damp sleeves clung to her wrists like cold, slippery snakes, reminding her of the bloody sensation that had brushed her fingertips earlier.

Xin He immediately stripped off her wet clothes.

But the scent of blood still lingered at the tip of her nose, and suddenly, she couldn’t stop retching.

Afraid of alerting others, she tightly covered her mouth with her palm.

Dark clouds obscured the moon, plunging the world into darkness.

After retching, Xin He felt like a fish stranded on shore. Wearing only her inner garments, she curled up into a shrimp-like ball.

Not far away, the charcoal brazier crackled, its glowing embers the only source of light in the room.

Xin He stared at the red-hot charcoal, feeling as though she herself were being roasted over it.

She was terrified and anxious, growing more fearful the more she thought.

But her mind was in chaos, unable to focus, let alone devise a plan. She could only curl up tightly into a ball.

Outside, the night was deep, and the cold wind howled.

Curled up in a ball, Xin He both longed for dawn to break quickly and wished the night would never end.

But time is never subject to anyone’s control.

Just as day inevitably gives way to night, and night eventually yields to dawn, day and night cycle endlessly, repeating day after day.

The horizon slowly lightened to the color of a fish’s belly, and the charcoal in the room had long burned out, leaving only a basin of ashes.

In the cold silence, Xin He slowly sat up.

Throughout that long, dark night, she had curled on the floor, eyes open, waiting for daybreak.

After the initial panic and terror, Xin He forced herself to calm down and think about what to do next.

If Zhou Shuisheng was dead, she would be a murderer.

If Zhou Shuisheng was still alive, they had already torn off all pretenses. To retaliate against her, he would surely go to Wei Mingjin and reveal what happened at Drunken Moon Pavilion.

Once Wei Mingjin learned of this, she would certainly be doomed.

But she did not want to die!

Rather than waiting to die, it was better to flee now, to escape far away.

Xin He immediately rose from the ground, found another set of robes to change into, opened the door, and hurried out.

It was still early; the maids and elderly servants who had come up the mountain with her had not yet risen.

Xin He carefully closed the door, lifted her skirt, and hurried toward the courtyard gate.

She had made up her mind: as soon as she descended the mountain, she would go to the ferry and take a boat away from Qingyuan County.

She remembered that the earliest boat leaving Qingyuan County departed at the beginning of the Si hour, around 9 a.m. If she went down the mountain now, she would make it just in time.

Xin He avoided the early-rising monks and moved quickly down the path.

Finally, she saw the open temple gates.

Xin He let out a slight sigh of relief and was about to quicken her pace when a man's voice suddenly rang out ahead: "Where do you think you're going, concubine?"

Xin He trembled, her eyes lifting stiffly.

In the faint mist, she saw Wei Mingjin standing ten steps away, dressed in pale, frost-like robes, arms behind his back.

His demeanor was calm and relaxed, like a hunter waiting by a trap for his prey to fall right into it.