Chapter 361 Nothing Was More Important Than Her Life!

Chapter 361: Nothing Is More Important Than Her Life!

“What? Someone shielded Prince Jing from a sword?” In the study of Prince Ning, the wisps of sandalwood incense failed to suppress the chill.

Xiao Huaijin’s voice was not loud, but it cut like a knife dipped in ice, chilling to the bone. “Did I not tell you not to harm anyone except Prince Jing?”

The few assassins who had narrowly escaped death knelt on the ground, trembling violently. “It was that female doctor herself who threw herself in front of Prince Jing to block the sword. We were caught off guard.”

“A female doctor?” Xiao Huaijin’s brow twitched sharply. A plain but stubborn face abruptly appeared in his mind.

It was the face of the female doctor from You’an Hall.

No, impossible. There couldn’t be such a coincidence.

He told himself this, trying to suppress the absurd feeling of unease.

But his heart felt as if gripped by an invisible hand, slowly tightening.

So what if it was her? Just a money-grubbing woman.

If she got hurt, she got hurt. What could he do about it?

Yet his throat tightened; he couldn’t convince himself.

That inexplicable restlessness spread like weeds, weighing down his chest.

He abruptly stood up, his voice carrying an urgency he didn’t even recognize.

“Summon a painter!” he ordered sharply. “You all, describe the appearance of the female doctor who took the sword blow for Prince Jing! I want the painter to sketch her face!”

At his command, the household servants dared not delay.

Soon, a painter was brought into this tense study.

The painter spread out the paper, ground the ink, and the assassins struggled to recall, speaking one after another, the only bright spot in the chaotic and bloody government office.

“Her eyes… her eyes were large, and she looked terrified, like a startled deer.”

“Her nose was straight, her lips were pale and pressed tightly together.”

“Her face shape was… oh yes, a gaunt oval face, very thin, with a pointed chin.”

The charcoal pencil rustled against the rice paper, and Xiao Huaijin stood with his back to them, silent.

Finally, the painter put down his brush and, carefully holding the scroll, bowed respectfully. “Your Highness, it is finished.”

Xiao Huaijin slowly turned around.

The moment his eyes fell on the face in the painting, his heart seemed to stop.

The person in the painting had delicate features, a straight nose, and slightly parted lips, with a trace of shattered fear.

This face belonged to someone he knew intimately… Jiang Shuning!

He reached out, his fingers trembling so much he could barely hold the thin paper.

“This is… the person who took the sword blow for Prince Jing?” His voice was hoarse as sandpaper, every word forced through clenched teeth.

He stared at the assassins, his eyes churning with immense fear and disbelief.

The assassins, terrified by his expression, dared not hide anything and lowered their heads further. “Reporting to Your Highness, that female doctor… indeed looked like this.”

It felt like a thunderbolt struck him; the world spun, his mind blank.

The painting slipped from his fingers, fluttering to the ground. That pale face was like a silent accusation.

His spirit was drained; the mask of warm, jade-like composure cracked inch by inch, revealing the raw panic beneath.

“How is she now? Answer me!” He lunged forward, grabbing the collar of the lead assassin, his eyes red and wild, like a man possessed.

The assassins, frightened out of their wits, stammered, “I… do not know. I only know… the sword that struck her was… delivered with lethal intent…”

Lethal intent.

These two words were like a sharp knife, stabbing into Xiao Huaijin’s heart and churning it to a bloody pulp.

His warm face turned paper-white. His hand gripping the assassin’s collar went limp. He staggered back, crashing into a bookshelf behind him with a dull, heavy thud.

He closed his eyes, a suffocating pain gripping his chest.

Jiang Shuning… how could she have returned to Xiao Lingchuan’s side? Didn’t she hate him more than anyone?

And why… did she take that sword for him?

Countless questions screamed in his mind, but none weighed as heavily as the possibility she might die.

“Prepare the horses!” Xiao Huaijin’s eyes snapped open. Those usually gentle eyes now held only cold resolve and madness. “I am going to Nanshuo!”

The assassins were horrified; they knelt and kowtowed. “Your Highness, you absolutely cannot! The assassination attempt failed, and Prince Jing is already suspicious. If you appear in Nanshuo at this time, it would be like admitting guilt! Prince Jing will definitely suspect!”

“I know.” Xiao Huaijin’s voice was low and hoarse. He pushed aside the person blocking his way and strode out, his robes billowing, his manner betraying a disregard for all consequences.

“But these… are far less important than her life!”

—

Her consciousness drifted through boundless darkness, like a lonely boat carried by unseen currents, helpless.

Jiang Shuning felt herself going through a long, cold tunnel, without sound, without light, only a void of dead silence.

Her body felt weightless. The sharp pain in her chest had vanished, replaced by a hollow emptiness, as though her soul had been ripped away.

After an unknown time, a faint light appeared ahead.

The light grew closer and brighter until it engulfed her entirely.

When she opened her eyes again, she found herself standing in a beautiful courtyard.

Before her were blooming peonies, lush and vibrant; the wind carried a rich floral fragrance.

Not far away, a woman in luxurious brocade robes sat on a stone bench with her back to Jiang Shuning.

A maidservant stood respectfully at her side.

The woman spoke softly, her voice carrying an inescapable weariness. “Where has the prince gone?”

The maidservant’s shoulders shrank slightly, a troubled look on her face.

"Say it." The woman's voice was still gentle, but now carried an undeniable firmness.

Only then did the maidservant, as if having made up her mind, speak in a low voice: "Your Highness, the Prince... he went to see Prince Rui's Secondary Consort."

She paused, then quickly added, "There is a new embroiderer in the capital who can embroider the beautiful flower patterns of Nanyue. The Secondary Consort liked it very much. So the Prince... bought the embroiderer and personally sent her to Prince Rui's mansion, so that she would embroider exclusively for the Secondary Consort."

The air seemed to freeze.

After a long while, the woman let out a very soft laugh, filled with desolation and self-mockery: "He certainly goes out of his way for Yaozhen, without worrying that Prince Rui might get the wrong idea."

"The Prince only goes when Prince Rui is not in the mansion. Prince Rui won't know!" the maidservant explained hastily.

Jiang Shuning stood to the side, like an outsider, watching all this coldly.

Although she could not see the woman's face, she could imagine how bleak her expression must have been at that moment.

The maidservant's words sounded like comfort, but in truth they were like rubbing salt in the wound.

What does she mean by "going when Prince Rui's not around"?

Isn't that just sneaking around?

Just then, a servant hurried into the courtyard and bowed to report: "Your Highness the Princess, the Prince has returned."

As soon as the words fell, the woman who had been slumped dejectedly suddenly perked up, even her back radiated joy.

"Dong Mei, quickly!" she urgently instructed the maidservant beside her. "Bring the mutton soup I've been simmering this afternoon. The Prince has been out all day, he must be freezing. It will warm him up nicely!"

Jiang Shuning frowned at the sight, inexplicable anger surging within her.

Is this princess out of her mind?

Her own man openly goes to fawn over another woman, and instead of crying, making a scene, or holding him accountable, she still bothers to prepare hot soup and waits for his return?

How pathetic!

No wonder people walk all over her!

Just as she was ranting inwardly, the woman, perhaps hearing footsteps, turned around joyfully, intending to greet him.

In that very moment when she turned, her face came fully into Jiang Shuning's view.

Jiang Shuning's head buzzed, as if she'd been struck by lightning, her blood seemingly freezing in an instant.

That face...

It was clearly herself!