They split into two groups only to avoid any accidents.
Xie Xiaoliu put on his clothes—the overly long sleeves and hem looked somewhat comical. She waved her sleeves and couldn’t help giggling. She had to wear a very tall bamboo hat and stuff cotton in the clothes to look like a man’s figure from a distance. But up close it was easy to see through the disguise, so she gave up this impersonation game and found a hidden guard with a build similar to Xu Zhou’s.
For some reason, in Xu Zhou’s memory, Xie Xiaoliu seemed very tall. Only at that moment did he realize she was just the size of an ordinary woman.
To develop martial arts comparable to men’s must have been very difficult.
This thought flashed through his mind.
At the time, it seemed perfectly ordinary.
…
Not long after separating from Xu Zhou, Xie Sui’an’s group was ambushed at the dock. Fortunately, they had prepared in advance, so the initial response wasn’t too chaotic.
Xie Sui’an led the opponents into the mountain forest to stall for time. If they discovered there was no Prince Ling’an here, they would immediately turn around to intercept on the land route.
But she belatedly realized the opponents had set an ambush in the forest.
She had underestimated their determination. This was their last chance—the Qi people had mobilized all their assassins in Jiangnan to complete this killing mission. Each was a top expert with deadly moves.
However, Xie Sui’an felt a flash of relief—they had prepared early, and fortunately Xu Zhou hadn’t taken the same route as her.
She looked at the silver blades flickering dimly in the shadows and actually felt somewhat exhilarated. Among these people, might there be someone who had fought Pang Yu? Finally, she could fight with everything she had.
For every person she killed, every moment she fought, Xu Zhou would be a bit safer, and Pang Yu’s revenge would be avenged a little more.
Very worthwhile.
Xie Sui’an fled in the mountains for two days, fighting the enemy until the last moment. Her body was like cloth full of holes, blood flowing from everywhere. She shouldn’t have been able to walk anymore, yet she still ran very, very far.
In the end, her view of the world was tinged with a layer of blood.
She didn’t know if it was the blood in her eyes affecting her vision, or if the world really was this color.
She and Xu Zhou’s double were forced to the edge of a cliff. When they stopped, her body finally had a moment to feel the pain everywhere.
She no longer had strength to hold her sword. So tired—she wanted to act spoiled, throw down her hands and quit. Then someone would come coax her like before, willingly lose to her.
An arrow shot off the man’s veil, and they finally discovered the person they’d been chasing wasn’t Prince Ling’an.
The mighty wind swept through the mountain forest, lifting the young woman’s hair. Xie Sui’an raised her head and laughed heartily.
“You’re too late.”
The furious enemies ordered the arrows to be released.
Countless arrows like blooming fireworks fell upon her. In the last second of consciousness, she remembered the summer of Yongkang’s twentieth year, when she disguised herself as a man in the Eastern Capital, following behind Xie Chao’en, eating and drinking freely, stealing chickens and touching dogs, living extravagantly, just like a little devil incarnate.
At that time, Pang Yu was still troubled about whether he might be gay. They strolled under the fireworks of the Qixi Festival when a spark from somewhere splashed onto her robe, burning half her clothes.
Wearing half a garment, she hid embarrassedly behind the bustling opera stage. Pang Yu stared at her undergarment for a long while, then suddenly cried out in alarm and scampered far away. Xiaoliu thought he wouldn’t come back, but unexpectedly after a while this blockhead ran back with his face flushed red, stubbornly averting his eyes from her, threw his outer robe to her, then walked away angrily.
She coaxed him for a long time, but this person wouldn’t even look at her once.
But Xie Xiaoliu knew it was because his face would turn red whenever he saw her.
He was probably the most straightforward person in the world. So honest that people couldn’t help but want to tease him, watching his face flush completely red, flustered and unable to say half a word, before she would smugly stop.
They fell in love in the autumn of Yongkang’s twentieth year. He first kissed her tremblingly among the falling autumn leaves.
They held each other’s hands tightly, embracing naive hope, thinking everything would get better and better. They didn’t know then that those were already the best years.
Then he died in the unnoticed snowy mountains. Then she fell on the first day the new dynasty was established.
She thought Xu Zhou should have reached Jinling safely. If there was any regret, it was that she never got to tell Xie Chao’en, “I forgive you.”
But it didn’t matter—Xie Chao’en was a ruthless person; he had ways to convince himself.
Her mission was complete. She could go find Pang Yu with a clear conscience. When they met again, he would definitely be the one to coax her. She would excitedly gesture to him about how amazing she was, how many enemies she’d killed—surely he couldn’t beat her now.
The young emperor sat in the empty Taiji Hall crying loudly, clutching a corner of cloth torn by thorns—the half-burned robe from Yongkang’s twentieth year had transformed into a butterfly and flown into his hands.
This was the last thing people could find related to Xie Sui’an.