Chu Tang said faintly: “Chu Zhao?”
Linglang was startled and blinked: “What? Miss, what do you mean?”
Chu Tang said: “I don’t know what it means either, but one thing is certain—the Prince’s action is for Chu Zhao’s sake, not for my family, much less for Father and Mother’s predicament.”
Linglang was somewhat troubled: “What does this Prince really mean? The master and mistress can’t say clearly either. We don’t know anything.”
Chu Tang laughed instead: “Not knowing anything, we can still do things. We only need to know who the matter concerns.”
Linglang asked nervously: “Then what should we do?”
But Chu Tang didn’t say more, propping her chin on her hand: “I need to think this through carefully.”
……
……
The lamplight was dim. The day’s excitement at Chu Garden had drawn to a close. After eating and washing up, Chu Zhao sat at her desk while a young maid fumigated her hair.
A’Le came in from outside: “Little Die, let me do it.”
The young maid responded, and Chu Zhao picked up a plate of snacks from the table: “Take these and share them with your companions.”
The young maid happily responded and left carrying the snacks.
“Miss,” A’Le said with a worried brow, “A’Le is incompetent. I couldn’t find out what the Prince and the master and mistress are secretly plotting.”
Chu Zhao patted her hand: “How can this be your incompetence? Don’t worry.”
A’Le was helpless: “How can I not worry? It must be detrimental to Miss. How should we respond?”
Chu Zhao smiled and blinked: “Believe it or not, someone will respond for me.”
A’Le naturally believed Miss’s words.
“Who?” she asked curiously. “When did Miss arrange this? Besides me, there are actually people in the household who are good to Miss?”
Chu Zhao smiled: “Sometimes people who aren’t good to you can also help.”
A’Le understood: “Miss means some people don’t want to see Miss do well, so they’ll do certain things, and these things will happen to be just as Miss wishes.”
Chu Zhao nodded with a smile: “A’Le is really smart.”
A’Le sighed: “What’s smart about this? It’s just that human hearts are sinister. Miss, don’t forget—I’ve been stealing and deceiving since I was four or five years old. I’m not a good person either.”
If not for the General and Miss restraining her all these years, who knows what she would have become.
Chu Zhao reached out to cup A’Le’s face: “A’Le has a kind heart. She can act like a villain, but can’t do villainous deeds.”
A’Le smiled and pulled down Chu Zhao’s hands: “Miss, stop always saying nice things to praise me. Tell me what else you need me to do.”
“You’re the most crucial,” Chu Zhao said. “The final success or failure of this matter depends on you.”
A’Le quickly leaned in. The two girls whispered under the lamplight, discussing how to get through this crisis, how to use villainous hearts to achieve their wishes. Inside the room was dim, and the two girls’ eyes and brows were also veiled in a dim yellow glow.
In the night far from the capital, flames rose up, illuminating the foot of the mountain bright as day.
Chaotic cries and shouts pierced the sky.
Countless shadows danced and ran in the night—more than half in the firelight, more than half outside it.
The flames devoured everything. Water poured over had no effect but instead enraged the fire, making the flames blaze even more fiercely, viciously licking at those who rushed in.
That person didn’t retreat. His body covered in a wet quilt, he ran through the firelight trying to rescue people. There were too many people, cries everywhere.
He grabbed one person and pulled—an arm came off. The person missing an arm was burned and stuck to the ground, waving the other arm and continuing to cry out—
They could no longer leave this place.
The wet quilt on his body was also gradually being baked dry, becoming aggressive. It was no longer protecting him but wanted to keep him there like the fire, turning him into charred ash and rotted flesh.
He looked at the dancing shadows all around, his ears filled with cries. Finally, he also looked up and screamed miserably, enduring the fire’s licking and reaching through the flames to grab an unconscious child, hugging him to his chest and charging outward.
Far beyond the great fire stood a circle of people forming a wall. The heat rising from the fire scorched even those on this side until they felt they might burn, but there was no need to fear—all the grass, trees, and buildings on this side had been torn down, the ground nearly scraped bare of its skin. Without fuel, even if sparks flew over, they couldn’t ignite.
Hearing that miserable scream from within the fire, the people who had been quietly watching changed their expressions.
“Quickly go rescue the young master!” A steward wearing dark brocade robes said with a ferocious expression. “If anything happens to the young master, none of you will live!”
Running in meant death; staying here also meant death. But if they ran in and died, their families and wives and children could still receive compensation and support. A group of people gritted their teeth and charged toward the fire—even if they had to roll their bodies to smother the flames, they would rescue the young master.
Before they rushed into the fire, a figure rushed out from the great fire, fell to the ground rolling, the flames on his body sending up a shower of sparks.
“Young Master!”
Everyone was overjoyed, beating at the person with brooms in their hands. Water poured over. The burning fire was quickly extinguished.
The young master on the ground had his clothes burned away, revealing fair shoulders and back dotted with blisters.
His face was undamaged, but his eyes were tightly shut. He curled up on the ground, emitting violent coughs, his voice hoarse.
“Young Master Yanlai!” The steward rushed over, shouting excitedly, “Doctor, come quickly.”
The doctor had been waiting and rushed over to turn over the curled-up young master. Only then did they see the young master was still hiding a seven or eight-year-old child in his embrace.
“Save him, save him,” the young master coughed and shouted hoarsely.
A group of people had risked their lives to save the young master, but at this moment no one listened to the young master’s words. They all stood unmoving. The doctor didn’t move either. They all turned to look at the steward.
The steward’s face was dark. He glanced at this unconscious seven or eight-year-old boy and finally nodded, pointing at a young man beside him.
“You take care of him,” he said.
The young man reached out to take the child from the young master’s embrace. With this taking, the child became his rescue.
The young master showed no reluctance, closing his eyes and releasing his hold.
That young man, holding the child and loudly calling for a doctor, hurried away—when the Xie clan’s merchant caravan traveled, they didn’t bring just one doctor.
Only then did the doctor here continue examining the young master. Fortunately, aside from some burns, there were no major injuries.
The steward, who had been very worried, breathed a sigh of relief, his voice heavy and angry: “Young Master Yanlai, your drunkenness this time has caused great trouble.”
Xie Yanlai lay on the ground. After the child was carried away, his entire being seemed hollowed out. He let the doctor cut away the remnants of his clothing, wash and apply medicine, not making a sound no matter how much it hurt.
Hearing the steward’s reproach, his face pressed against the ground, he opened his eyes slightly to look, letting out a hoarse laugh: “Do you need my life to atone for this disaster? Take it then.”
The steward’s gaze in the firelight was pitying, his voice carrying affection: “For disasters and crimes, there is Third Young Master. How could we bear to take Ninth Young Master’s life?”