Chapter Seventy-One: Just a Minor Wound

The carriage moved slowly forward. Shen Nanyuan pressed her hand tightly against her wound, unable to calm the panic in her heart. Fortunately, the bleeding was no longer as alarming as before. Her mind was blank, her body felt cold, and a numbness crept up from her fingertips. Her nose, too, was tinged red by the chill.

Meng Chuyue sniffled, her voice barely audible. “I’m sorry, Yuanyuan.”

She continued, “If it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t have been hurt.”

Shen Nanyuan could tell that today’s assassins were after Meng Chuyue. She didn’t know who would want her dead, but it was clear the person behind it was ruthless, bent on taking Meng Chuyue’s life.

Though the original novel had many who wished for Meng Chuyue’s death, those troubles were supposed to come later. Shen Nanyuan tried to comfort her, “It’s all right. You don’t need to apologize. I’m perfectly fine now, and it’s just a small wound on my arm. Once we get to the clinic and have it bandaged, I’ll be as good as new. Don’t blame yourself or feel so sad. You’re about to make me cry too.”

She let out a soft sigh, “Luckily, Xiao Yan was here today, and thank goodness my brother arrived in time.”

Had it not been for Shen Sinian’s timely appearance at that critical moment, she and Meng Chuyue would likely have fallen to the assassin’s blade. Thankfully, Shen Sinian cared for her—seeing it was raining and worried that she hadn’t brought an umbrella, he’d come to fetch her home, and so stumbled upon the incident.

Meng Chuyue wiped her tears away, eyes red as she looked at the blood on Shen Nanyuan’s hand, her expression filled with guilt and sorrow.

“I will find out who is behind this!” she declared.

Presently, Meng Chuyue had not yet entered the palace. She had no clear enemies, nor had she incurred any deadly grudges. The only one who seemed to hate her enough to wish her dead was the mistress of the Prime Minister’s residence.

Locked away under house arrest, unsure when she would be released, and with her own daughter’s reputation ruined because of this illegitimate girl, the woman’s new and old grudges together made today’s events unsurprising.

Shen Nanyuan considered this, then raised her head to meet Meng Chuyue’s reddened eyes.

She seemed to have reached the same conclusion, her lips pressed together. “I believe it’s her as well. I haven’t left the Prime Minister’s residence in a long time, and all the servants in my courtyard are loyal to me, so there’s no way they’d help her harm me. That’s why nothing has happened until now. Today was the first time I managed to leave the residence, and she seized the opportunity to strike. She’s the only one who wants me dead.”

A mocking smile tugged at Meng Chuyue’s lips. “She’s been confined because of me, and her daughter’s reputation was destroyed because of me. No wonder she hates me so much.”

“If it really turns out to be her, not even my father will be able to protect her.”

Shen Nanyuan lowered her eyes, at a loss for how to comfort her. After all, Meng Chuyue still had to call her ‘mother,’ but the one she called mother had tried to harm her again and again. No wonder her heart was growing ever more hardened.

She glanced at Meng Chuyue and caught a fleeting glimmer of resolve in her eyes.

Being the heroine was truly exhausting. Before even entering the palace, the mistress of the Prime Minister’s residence sought to harm her. Once in the palace, hundreds of eyes would be watching her every move. Such a life was not for the faint of heart. Though the heroine carried a certain glow, it was still an extreme path to walk.

At that moment, the carriage suddenly stopped. Shen Nanyuan’s heart skipped a beat, suspecting another threat, when the curtain was abruptly lifted. Xiao Yan entered, drenched, his breath uneven—he had clearly run all the way. Upon seeing the blood on her arm, his gaze turned instantly dark, oppressive, and sinister, suffocating the words that had been on Shen Nanyuan’s lips.

Her hair stood on end.

Xiao Yan, in this state, was frightening.

Unlike his usual quiet and gentle demeanor, he was now brimming with aggression, making her afraid to speak.

She suddenly understood why, in the later stages when Xiao Yan ascended the throne, he would appear just like this—utterly devoid of warmth, as cold and biting as a midwinter wind, inspiring fear in all around him.

Even Meng Chuyue’s eyes betrayed a trace of fear.

“Miss,” he said, his voice as steady as ever.

Shen Nanyuan stared at him, unmoving.

The carriage rolled on. Xiao Yan clenched his fists, eyes lingering on the wound on her arm, then glancing at her anxious gaze—he froze, his composure faltering.

He had hurried here, every emotion laid bare, not hidden in the slightest.

She was frightened.

Xiao Yan felt as though his heart had been struck. He forced down the rage surging inside, lowered his gaze, and quietly sat down, as obedient as ever.

“I heard that you were hurt, Miss.”

“Ah… I’m all right,” Shen Nanyuan snapped out of her daze. “It’s just a scratch.”

Her gaze paused, worry still lingering as she studied Xiao Yan’s face. “What about you? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he replied softly.

“That’s good.”

A silence settled within the carriage.

Shen Nanyuan was still haunted by the look she had just seen in Xiao Yan’s eyes. Now he sat with his head lowered, as calm as ever, making it seem as if what she had seen moments ago was just her imagination. This left her with a feeling she couldn’t quite put into words—neither here nor there.

She pursed her lips and asked, “Where’s my brother?”

“Young Master is dealing with the aftermath; he should be here soon.”

There were three corpses in the thatched hut that needed to be handled, lest someone stumble upon them and cause panic.

Such things should be avoided.

Xiao Yan had been about to take care of it, but upon hearing that Shen Nanyuan was injured, he had rushed over in haste, leaving Shen Sinian to manage the situation.

No one would have thought that what was meant to be a simple flower-viewing outing would turn into such an ordeal.

After Shen Nanyuan’s wound was bandaged at the clinic, Shen Sinian arrived.

The rain had stopped, and the sky, once gloomy, had finally cleared. Shen Sinian stood outside the clinic with Xiao Yan, his expression colder than Shen Nanyuan had ever seen.

“What happened today?” he demanded.

“Someone tried to kill Miss Meng. I held off the three men inside the hut, but there was a fourth outside, and that’s how Miss was injured.”

Shen Sinian’s voice was icy. “This must be reported to His Majesty. Yuanyuan is a county princess by imperial decree. Now that something has happened to her, His Majesty will surely see her right. If we make this public, I’d like to see how the mastermind plans to escape.”

He rarely lost his composure, but the moment he saw the assassin’s blade swinging down, his heart nearly stopped beating.