There were seven days left until the Nirvana Plan.
Xie Sui’an was so nervous she had reached the point of being startled by shadows. Every day she ate and slept with a sword in her arms, keeping Xu Zhou firmly under her watchful eye.
On this day, a hastily written letter was delivered from outside.
It read: “I am trapped on the Quling River.”
Such ugly handwriting was unique—Xie Sui’an recognized at a glance that this was Nanyi’s writing.
She had always thought Nanyi was “Yan” (the Wild Goose).
She could never have imagined that this was a forged letter by Xie Queshan, and that the “Yan” she thought she knew was only what Xie Queshan had led her to believe.
“Yan” was in trouble, and she couldn’t possibly stand by and do nothing. She immediately went to see Song Muchuan, asking him to help rescue Nanyi.
This was the first time Song Muchuan learned that Nanyi was actually that mysterious codename “Yan.”
He always felt something wasn’t quite right, but when he truly recalled each incident, she had indeed been involved in all of them and played no small role. Combined with Xie Sui’an speaking so definitively, saying this was personally instructed by Xie Hengzai, he had no reason to doubt.
So she was the senior, and he had actually been thinking of recruiting her into the Bingzhu Bureau. Song Muchuan felt both ashamed and anxious—ashamed of his poor judgment, anxious about her predicament.
Since their parting on that rainy night, they had no further contact. He didn’t know how she had been exposed, but since she could send messages out, there was presumably still room for hope.
The great ship was about to be completed and he couldn’t leave, while most of the Bingzhu Bureau’s spies were in silent mode. For the rescue mission, he could only ask Ying Huai from the Yucheng Army to help.
That night, Ying Huai set out. There were only so many tributaries of the Quling River. Searching them one by one, he found the barge suspended in the middle of the river beneath a remote cliff.
Ying Huai led his men down from the cliff on ropes, approaching the vessel. Unexpectedly, there were no guards on the ship.
The cabin showed signs of habitation. The lunch box contained food for one person, and there was half a pot of wine by the table.
Curtains hung layer upon layer, and it seemed like someone was inside, with wisps of wine fragrance floating out.
“Madam?” Ying Huai called tentatively, but there was no response from within the curtains.
“If you don’t answer, this humble officer will presume to enter.”
Ying Huai slowly parted the curtains. The young woman lay quietly on the bed. He hesitantly reached out to check her breathing, then sighed in relief.
She was alive, just wouldn’t wake up no matter how much she was shaken. It seemed she was drunk.
Ying Huai sent out a signal, and the rescue boat quickly approached the large vessel. Several men worked together to carry the unconscious Nanyi off the ship.
That small boat grew more and more distant until it could no longer be seen in the moonlight, and only then did Xie Queshan emerge from the shadows.
He was utterly indifferent, his face betraying no expression whatsoever. He simply walked calmly back to the room, pulled the hidden shackles from under the bed, and fastened them back onto his wrists.
Click—easily, effortlessly, back to the starting point.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze wandering aimlessly around this small room. His face finally showed a trace of bewilderment—he wasn’t sure if she had really been here.
Until he saw a long strand of hair at the head of the bed.
Everything between them hung on this strand of hair. Fragile, easily broken.
Suddenly, the door was pushed open, and a fierce wind immediately filled the entire room, blowing the curtains into a chaotic dance.
He didn’t hold onto the long hair in his hand. The strand was swept away by the wind and disappeared without a trace in an instant.
Xie Queshan raised his head and saw Zhang Yuehui.
The one who witnessed all this wasn’t just Xie Queshan—there was also him.
He had received intelligence that Xie Queshan’s personal guard He Ping had fled midway and secretly gone to see Xie Queshan.
Afterward, He Ping returned to Wangxue Valley and sent a message to Xie Sui’an, asking her to rescue “Yan.”
Zhang Yuehui didn’t stop this from happening. He wanted to see what exactly Xie Queshan was trying to do.
In such circumstances, did he still want to escape with his life? Was he abandoning the greater cause? If he truly had this ability to achieve the best of both worlds… he could turn a blind eye.
Then he detected something strange.
Xie Queshan’s actions were solely to send Nanyi away.
Not only that, he had also given her his identity. He shouldered all the risks of being “Yan” while giving her all the protection that “Yan” could receive.
For some unknown reason, Zhang Yuehui felt a massive sense of defeat and loss. This feeling made him lose interest even in watching his enemy’s end. As if possessed by a ghost, he came to this ship.
He wanted to see if this great saint was made of flesh and blood. Was he some reincarnated Bodhisattva? There should be a Buddhist halo above his head.
Looking and looking, he was still just mortal flesh—truly disappointing.
Zhang Yuehui laughed bitterly and sat down to pour himself a cup of wine. After thinking, he also filled the empty cup across from him.
River wind with wine—truly pleasant.
Xie Queshan sat across from him, silently joining him for a drink.
At this moment, one should drink with single-minded focus, even if an enemy sat across the table.
Zhang Yuehui suddenly said leisurely: “Xie Queshan, you don’t give her even a bit of your selfishness.”
This person always picked at people’s sore spots, stabbing straight at them with his gleaming knife tip.
Xie Queshan sneered, with hints of self-mockery: “Would you like me to?”
“You should learn from me—full of selfishness from head to toe. That makes the game interesting.”