Read Novel Full CHAPTER 36 PART2
CHAPTER 36 PART2
But now, holding that eagle-feathered arrow in his hand, Lord Cheng’en couldn’t stop shaking.
He glanced around in terror, half-convinced another arrow might fly at him at any moment.
“Quick!” he barked at his attendant. “Send the Xicheng Patrol Division! Lock down this entire area—say there’s a wanted criminal from the imperial court nearby!”
“And the imperial guards—send someone to inform them immediately!”
His voice grew harsh and frantic, gritted with fear as he barked his orders.
Within the time it took to finish a cup of tea, a squad from the Xicheng Patrol Division arrived in full force, swiftly sealing off the entire street and the two adjacent ones. They barked orders at the crowd, forbidding anyone from moving.
The street was in chaos, panic rippling through the people. Fear hung thick in the air—every shadow seemed like a threat, every sound like a warning.
Lord Cheng’en remained in the waterside pavilion of the opera house, pacing back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back, brows furrowed deep in thought. He was clearly restless, his expression flickering between doubt and dread, a dark cloud shadowing his brow.
His mind drifted again to the events of the previous year in Lanshan City on the northern frontier. At that time, thirty thousand Beidi troops had laid siege to the city, which had only ten thousand defenders inside.
The enemy camped outside the gates, launching wave after wave of surprise attacks. Inside and out, corpses littered the ground, blood flowed like rivers—it was hell on earth.
During that time, he hadn’t slept a single peaceful night.
After all, he was the head of the Liu family, the Empress’s elder brother, and the esteemed Lord Cheng’en. How could a man of his stature be expected to die alongside mere common soldiers?
Later, a mysterious visitor had arrived in Lanshan and delivered him a letter…
Crash!
A sharp sound of shattering porcelain snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. His heart clenched instinctively, and he looked toward the source of the noise.
Through the window, he spotted several Imperial guards in the teahouse across the street—their crimson flying fish uniforms strikingly visible.
The Imperial guards moved with aggressive authority, raiding rooms, overturning furniture, detaining people, interrogating suspects… a cacophony of chaos echoed through the streets, thickening the already oppressive tension in the air.
Lord Cheng’en resumed his pacing, casting glances every now and then toward the eagle-feathered arrow still resting on the table. His face grew darker by the second.
Suddenly, a shrill voice called from outside: “Lord Cheng’en—bad news!”
A servant in blue came running up to the pavilion, breathless and pale with panic.
“Terrible news, my lord!”
The repeated cries of “bad news” turned Lord Cheng’en’s face so dark it looked ready to drip ink. He nearly kicked the servant on the spot.
In fact, his foot had already lifted when the servant hurriedly blurted, “Lord Cheng’en—the estate—it’s been ransacked!”
What?!
Lord Cheng’en’s eyes, already dulled by wine and lust, snapped wide open.
He no longer cared about the chaos at the opera house. With a furious sweep of his sleeve, he roared, “Quick—prepare the carriage!”
The estate’s carriage had been waiting outside the opera house for some time. Urged on by Lord Cheng’en’s frantic shouting, the coachman ignored the surrounding crowd and sped through the streets. A trip that normally took the time of one incense stick was halved in urgency.
When Lord Cheng’en hurriedly stepped down from the carriage, what he saw left him stunned.
Right in front of him, the large red plaque bearing the characters “Cheng’en Marquis Estate” had been knocked to the ground, lying crooked and broken. A single eagle-feathered arrow—its shaft made from the golden plume of a condor—was embedded dead center in the plaque, splitting it cleanly in two.
It felt as though that arrow hadn’t struck the sign, but his heart instead.
By the gates, the estate’s gatekeepers and servants cowered silently, not daring to step forward or speak—no one wanted to provoke Lord Cheng’en in his fury.
“Xie Wuduan—it must be Xie Wuduan!” he growled, eyes locked on the arrow, rage distorting his face. His breath hitched, as if something had lodged in his throat and refused to pass.
His attendant rushed to steady him, murmuring calming words to coax him out of his rage.
But Lord Cheng’en seemed not to hear.
After the first wave of shock and fury, a tidal wave of fear surged through him. His eyes darkened, his chest heaving unevenly.
One thought haunted his mind: Is Xie Wuduan really still alive?
If he was—if he had truly survived—then there was no question: he would come for him.
Lord Cheng’en’s gaze darted around frantically, as if expecting the next arrow to fly at him from the shadows and pierce his skull.
Just like when Xie Yimo died…
His pupils constricted violently, and terror surged through him so fiercely he nearly collapsed. With a strangled gasp, he turned and fled into the estate without another word.
With a heavy thud, the vermilion gates of the Cheng’en Estate slammed shut behind him, sealing tightly without a crack.
From that moment on, the gates did not open again—not even as night fell.
The air turned cold as water under the cover of darkness.
Occasionally, the silence of night was broken by birdsong. A carrier pigeon cooed softly as it soared from the Cheng’en Marquis Estate, vanishing into the dense night.
Just as the gray pigeon crossed above the tall western city walls, a white eagle sliced through the darkness like lightning, diving straight for its prey.
In the face of such a predator, the gentle pigeon stood no chance. With a swift strike, the eagle snatched it effortlessly in its talons.
The white eagle let out a sharp, triumphant cry, circling once before spreading its wings and flying northwest, toward a manor nestled four or five miles from the city gate.
Another cry echoed through the night. The eagle swooped low toward a few birch trees at the edge of the estate, its wings stirring up a fierce gust of wind as it descended.
It landed steadily on Gu Feichi’s shoulder.
Gu Feichi removed the captured pigeon from the eagle’s talons, then unfastened a slender bamboo tube from its leg. Inside was a narrow strip of silk, tightly folded.
He scanned the message quickly, eyes flicking across the lines, then handed it to Xie Wuduan without a word.
The white eagle stared unblinking at the gray pigeon, which trembled in Gu Feichi’s hand, letting out a pitiful coo as it nestled its head timidly against his palm.
“A’Chi,” Xie Wuduan’s warm voice rose softly into the cool night air after a moment of silence, “I’ll leave at first light tomorrow.”
Gu Feichi turned, gently stroking the pigeon as he met Xie Wuduan’s gaze—those eyes deep and dark, calm yet unwavering, gleaming with steely resolve.
They looked at each other in silence for a beat.
Then Gu Feichi nodded. “I’ll see you off.”
The two cousins shared a quiet smile, a wordless understanding passing between them like a silent vow.
Night deepened. Above them, the moon and stars bore silent witness to everything below.
When dawn broke and the sky was just beginning to lighten, Xie Wuduan had already gathered his belongings. Gu Feichi stood at the edge of the estate, watching him leave.
With a swift motion, he raised his arm and snapped his fingers. Perched atop a treetop, the white eagle instantly understood—letting out a cry as it launched into the clouds, soaring high above to follow Xie Wuduan’s trail.
Only when Xie Wuduan’s figure disappeared into the distance did Gu Feichi mount his horse and turn back toward the capital.
The sun climbed high into the blue sky, casting its warm glow over the city.
The streets of the capital were already buzzing with life—vendors shouting their wares, people bustling about in a scene of vibrant, prosperous energy.
But dressed in black, Gu Feichi moved like a silent shadow through the throng—an invisible presence, out of place amidst the noise and cheer.
Gu Feichi stepped quietly into the Wancao Hall. He passed through the front hall, lifted the curtain to the rear chamber, and made his way straight toward the back courtyard.
The air was thick with the rich, pungent scent of medicinal herbs.
As he moved through the rear hall, he could already hear the cheerful voice of a shop assistant in the distance: “Miss Xiao, the herbs you requested are all here. Is there anything else you need?”
Following the voice, he spotted her under the shade of a lush camphor tree. Around her, on the stone table, stone stools, and even on the ground, were trays and baskets filled with all sorts of herbs.
Xiao Yanfei was seated beneath the tree, carefully sorting through the medicinal plants. Sunlight streamed through the dense canopy, casting soft, dappled light on her figure.
Sensing someone’s arrival, she looked up in his direction. A radiant smile bloomed on her face—vivid and bright as a summer flower, her eyes sparkling like sunlight on water.
In that instant, it was as if her presence brought color to the entire courtyard.
“Take your time, Miss Xiao,” the shop assistant said tactfully, retreating just as Gu Feichi walked in.
As he approached the camphor tree, he took a seat in the only empty spot. Xiao Yanfei pulled a small porcelain bottle from her sleeve pouch and slid it across the stone table toward him.
“This is the medicine.”
Then, without another word, she resumed sorting through the herbs. She picked up a pale yellow slice of processed Pinellia ternata, examined it closely, and brought it to her nose for a sniff.
She had visited Wancao Hall a few days earlier to place a special order for herbs. Today, she had come to deliver the amoxicillin for Gu Feichi, and also to collect the rest of her own order.
Traditional Chinese medicine had only been an elective for her, but after a month of intensive cramming, she had learned to identify a good number of common herbs.
The medications in her emergency kit were suspicious enough on their own—if she didn’t at least put on the appearance of sourcing traditional ingredients, people might start asking questions. Even she felt a little guilty every time she pulled those pills out.
Xiao Yanfei swallowed hard and shifted her gaze before picking up a piece of Bupleurum.
“Bupleurum, Pinellia, Scutellaria, Codonopsis, Licorice…” Gu Feichi casually glanced at the spread and asked offhandedly, “Treating a Shaoyang syndrome?”
Xiao Yanfei’s hand froze mid-air, the herb still between her fingers, as she stared at Gu Feichi in astonishment.
The prescription she had put together was Xiao Chai Hu Tang, a formula taken from the Treatise on Cold Damage, a text revered as gospel in traditional Chinese medicine. Yet Gu Feichi had recognized it at a glance.
Wasn’t he supposed to be a military man?
The shock in her eyes clearly amused him.
Gu Feichi tugged faintly at the corner of his lips. He picked up a piece of prepared Bupleurum from the basket and examined it for a moment before speaking calmly:
“A few years ago, the Xirong army launched a surprise attack on the northwest. Thousands died. I was injured too…”
As he spoke of the past, a distant, icy look surfaced in his eyes.
“The military physicians treated the wounded, but most of them still died. Later we found out the batch of herbs the court had supplied was contaminated—moldy. Someone had barely cleaned them up before sending them to the front lines.”
That time, Gu Feichi had almost lost his life on the battlefield.
“After that, I got smarter. Found a retired imperial physician and studied under him for half a year.”
Since then, Gu Feichi had kept up his studies when time allowed—reading medical texts, learning from army medics. He could now identify herbs, treat wounds, and even read pulse records and prescriptions.
He wasn’t the type to trip over the same stone twice.
Xiao Yanfei gazed at his unmasked face. It was clean and unblemished—none of the terrifying centipede-like scar Ning Shu had mentioned.
Her instincts told her that when Gu Feichi said he’d been “a little injured,” it had likely been far more serious than that.
Could that injury—the one rumored to have disfigured him—have happened during that campaign?
She continued to quietly observe him when, unexpectedly, he looked up.
Their eyes met. Just like that, she fell into a pair of eyes dark and fathomless.
They were like a clear, still spring… or a vast summer night sky—deep, boundless, impossible to read.
A flicker of amusement sparked in those eyes, and then he smiled.
The morning light that spilled across his face softened his features, making his already handsome face seem even more striking.
His lashes were thick and dense, framing eyes so perfectly shaped they looked as if they’d been drawn stroke by stroke with meticulous care. The corners of his eyes lifted slightly, giving them a naturally elegant curve—exquisitely beautiful.
Xiao Yanfei found it hard to look away. How could someone this stunning be the same person Princess Ning Shu had called “unattractive”?
A complicated feeling stirred in her chest.
What a pity.
She pulled out a small packet of zongzi candy, unwrapped the oiled paper, and held it out to Gu Feichi. “Want one?”
The candies, each about the size of a pearl, were translucent like amber, with visible specks of rose petals and pine nuts inside—delicate and lovely.
A gentle, sweet aroma wafted through the air.
Surprisingly, it blended harmoniously with the stronger scent of medicinal herbs surrounding them.
Gu Feichi’s gaze settled on Xiao Yanfei.
They were less than two feet apart, close enough for him to see every subtle shift in her expression.
She tilted her head and smiled at him. Her hair cascaded like clouds, and under the soft red hue of her plain jacket, her fair, delicate skin glowed like gardenias—pure and striking, radiant and unforgettable.
The coral earrings on her earlobes swayed lightly, adding a touch of lively elegance to her gentle poise.
When she looked at him, her wide cat-like eyes were vivid and bright, the blacks and whites clearly defined, focused with such intensity it felt as though she was peering straight into his soul—brighter than the sky full of sunlight.
“Don’t want it?” Xiao Yanfei, thinking he was uninterested, was just about to pull her hand back.
But Gu Feichi suddenly moved.
His left hand swiftly caught her slender wrist.
“Xiao Yanfei,” he said, still holding her wrist, his gaze unwavering as he looked at the girl beside him. His voice was steady and clear. “Will you be my princess consort?”
The noonday sun hung high in the sky, casting golden light across the courtyard. As the wind rustled through the trees, dappled shadows danced around them, and the shimmering specks of light reflected in Gu Feichi’s dark eyes, making them gleam like stars.
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