The swordsmanship of Qing Xiao and his men was military in style.
The three thugs, hesitant to strike, exchanged glances and fled, leaping over the wall.
The wind died down, and bare branches reflected in the standing water.
Yu Lingxi held her breath as she approached, examining the motionless youth on the ground through the veil of her hat, feeling a mixture of emotions.
“Is he dead?”
Qing Xiao sheathed his sword and walked over to turn the black-clad youth lying in the bloody water.
Meeting the youth’s deep gaze, Qing Xiao suddenly released his hand, inexplicably alarmed.
This youth had the dangerous eyes of a wild beast.
But it was only for an instant; that bone-chilling sense of danger disappeared, and the youth before him seemed so weak he might die at any moment.
Qing Xiao concealed his momentary surprise and rose to report: “Young miss, he’s still alive.”
Yu Lingxi exhaled slightly, unclear whether from relief or something else.
The youth lay on his back, his head slightly turned toward Yu Lingxi, his chest stained dark with blood.
Yu Lingxi remembered her purpose and her hand gripping the horse whip twitched.
The madman who had once been so imperious in her previous life now lay before her like a defeated dog, half-dead.
If she struck now, he wouldn’t even have the strength to roll away and dodge…
Ning Yin’s eyes were like tranquil black pools, reflecting Yu Lingxi’s graceful figure, staring at her without blinking.
Yu Lingxi found his gaze hard to describe—inky and still, yet with undercurrents surging beneath.
Those eyes swirled like whirlpools, consuming her emotions.
Scenes from her previous life flashed by like lantern slides—moments of grievance, heartbreak, anger…
The wind passed silently, and her hand gripping the whip tightened, then finally dropped lifelessly.
Yu Lingxi suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion and pressed her lips together: “Qing Xiao, let’s go.”
Qing Xiao glanced at the youth lying on the ground, hesitating to speak.
In the end, he asked nothing, leading the other four guards to follow their mistress’s somewhat hurried steps.
Yu Lingxi didn’t look back, unaware that the youth lying on the ground was staring intently at her retreating figure, supporting himself to slowly stand up.
Swaying and leaning against the ward wall, he lowered his gaze and withdrew the sharp dagger he had unsheathed from his sleeve.
The cold crows perched on the withered tree seemed to sense the killing intent and flew away in alarm.
If that woman had shown even a hint of malice just now, his dagger would have pierced her delicate, beautiful neck.
But she hadn’t.
Strangely, in their two encounters, her eyes had held complex emotions—like fear, yet also like anger.
Though disliking him, she still saves him.
How interesting—that woman carried too many mysteries.
Thinking of this, Ning Yin calmly wiped the blood from the corner of his lips, and supporting himself against the mottled ward wall, followed the unassuming carriage step by step.
The carriage swayed, dispersing the thoughts filling Yu Lingxi’s mind.
She suspected she might be bewitched—having firmly resolved to beat him, she had instead accidentally saved him.
The first enthusiasm wanes with the second attempt; she embodied that “waning.”
As she sat listlessly thinking, Qing Xiao suddenly knocked on the carriage wall.
“Young miss, that youth has been following us.”
Yu Lingxi immediately rose and lifted the carriage curtain to look back. Indeed, she saw Ning Yin with one hand clutching his chest wound and the other supporting himself against the dilapidated ward wall, following the carriage with difficult steps.
Yu Lingxi couldn’t help but recall a small black dog she had casually fed in her childhood, which had followed her for half a street with such attachment, impossible to drive away.
They were about to enter the main street of the Immortal City of Desire, with its crowds of people. Following them like this wouldn’t look proper.
Qing Xiao spoke: “Young miss, should this servant…”
Instinct told Yu Lingxi she shouldn’t have any further entanglement with Ning Yin.
Steeling her heart, she interrupted Qing Xiao: “Make the horses run faster, let’s go.”
The horses neighed, and the buildings along the street rapidly receded.
Ning Yin’s figure gradually faded into the distance, becoming an increasingly smaller black dot.
Until his persistent silhouette completely disappeared, Yu Lingxi exhaled with a whoosh, feeling as if she had finally surfaced from the water to breathe.
She had set out with imposing force but returned weary and dejected.
Back in her room, Yu Lingxi said nothing, just tossed the small horsewhip onto the desk and fell face-down into her bedding, lying motionless.
Frustrated, deeply frustrated.
She refused to admit her soft-heartedness, thinking defeatedly: Truly, even being a villain requires talent.