30 A Sudden Turn of Events

Nangong Feifeng presented the token of Prince Qin’s manor to have the city gates opened. The guards carried Nangong Feilong into the manor, but he had already breathed his last. Upon hearing that Prince Qin had been ambushed and the Princess Consort abducted, Emperor Hong was consumed by a towering rage. Aside from Jing Chen, he summoned the other princes to the palace, where he berated them relentlessly and beat them soundly. It was declared that Nangong Feilong had died from a snakebite during an outing in the wilderness.

Having failed to marry the Princess Royal and losing his life in the process, Nangong Feilong’s death prompted Nangong Feifeng to plead with Emperor Hong for the right to choose a husband from the Great Yin Empire, explicitly demanding the participation of all the princes.

After Jing Chen and Yang Simin leaped off the cliff, the assassins from the Heavenly Wolf Palace could only stare at the precipice in frustration. They split into three groups: one to search the foot of the cliff, one to head upstream, and one to head downstream, determined to see them dead. Fortunately, a small boat from a nearby pasture was moored by the river, equipped with a bamboo pole used for steering and herding geese and ducks. The pasture held not only cattle, horses, and sheep, but also poultry. Exhausted, the two managed to scramble onto the boat, and with a push of the bamboo pole, they drifted away from the bank.

The pursuers arrived just then, raining arrows toward the center of the river. Jing Chen shielded Yang Simin, both lying flat in the cabin as they drifted downstream. Having suffered an arrow wound and lost significant blood, and further battered by the water, Yang Simin fell unconscious, shivering uncontrollably. Jing Chen touched her forehead and found it burning with fever.

A strong wind rose over the river, and the current quickened. Jing Chen wrung out his wet clothes, hung them on the bamboo pole, and helped Yang Simin out of her outer garment. Exhausted to the bone, he pulled her into his arms and fell into a deep sleep.

Time passed as they drifted, and the sky began to pale with the dawn. Spotting a tributary—where there is water, there is life—Jing Chen used the pole to steer the boat into the smaller stream. Within an hour, he spotted a small, steep slope with man-made steps and a wooden pier used for drawing water and washing vegetables. He steered toward the bank, catching sight of a bamboo grove in the distance.

Yang Simin had regained consciousness, staring blankly at Jing Chen, who had revealed his true appearance. Her brows furrowed. "Who are you? What are your intentions?"

"Second Sister-in-law," Jing Chen said with a bitter smile, "I am the Seventh Prince, Jing Chen. I did not mean to deceive you. With the Crown Prince executed, my mother the Empress having taken her own life, and my uncles and grandfather all beheaded, I had no other choice. But I have never harbored any malice toward you, nor any wicked intent."

At the mention of wicked intent, tears streamed down Yang Simin’s face. Her own husband had sought her death, yet this man had followed her through life and death, never abandoning her. "Go," she said, bowing her head. "Let us pretend we never met. In the next life, I will repay you for saving my life."

Jing Chen laughed aloud. "Truly worthy of being my Second Sister-in-law. You are all cut from the same cloth. How hypocritical. You talk of repaying me in the next life because you won't do it now, while you are alive. Who would believe such nonsense? Let me tell you: when you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back at you. When you do not respect love, love will not respect you. I do not demand repayment for my kindness. You may leave; I will not stop you. I can only say my Second Brother’s choice was impeccable—he has a unique eye. A person of your character is not fit to marry into my royal family! What is there to fear in life or death? Since we were born into this world, we must live a life worth living! You may go. As for Jing Xuan, whom you miss so dearly, rest assured, I will raise him well."

Yang Simin’s eyes widened. She grabbed Jing Chen’s leg and sobbed uncontrollably, unable to speak. The recent times had been too cruel and her heart too weary. As she wept, she fainted once more.

Jing Chen sighed deeply, picked her up, and carried her ashore. Beyond a poplar grove lay a lush, verdant bamboo forest. Deep within, a clear, meandering stream flowed with a constant, melodic murmur. Ancient trees towered on both banks, their interlaced branches slicing the sky into shards of blue porcelain. Mist drifted through the woods, thickest at dawn and dusk, like a fairyland.

A bamboo cottage stood by the water, three bays wide and two rooms deep, joined by exquisite mortise-and-tenon craftsmanship without a single nail. The roof was thatched with dried bamboo leaves, and seven medicinal bells hung from the eaves, chiming in the wind. Under the east window grew *Panax notoginseng* and *Angelica sinensis*, while half an acre of honeysuckle carpeted the western wall. Perilla spread along the bamboo steps, the air thick with a mixture of bitter and sweet fragrances.

Dried herbs collected from the deep clouds hung on bamboo racks: *Selaginella* hung like a waterfall, *Dendrobium* shimmered with a metallic luster, and rhubarb leaves spread out like sunset clouds. Within the house, shelves were filled with pill jars, and a green jade mortar sat on the table. The scent of medicine seemed to seep through the walls and drift into the starry sky.

Jing Chen was overjoyed and hurried toward the courtyard gate, which was fenced with bamboo. Suddenly, a tiger’s roar echoed, making him shudder.

"Banlan, do not be rude!" a voice commanded.

Footsteps approached, and the gate opened. An old man stood before them. His white hair was neither pinned nor tied, cascading like a snowy waterfall to his waist, tangled with a few dried daylilies. The wrinkles on his face looked like growth rings carved into pine bark with silver needles. Most striking were his eyes—the left as clear as a newborn’s, the right as clouded as a centenarian’s. He wore a faded, coarse cloth robe stained with various medicinal marks, resembling an ink wash painting. Seven purple bamboo tubes hung from his waist, clinking softly as he moved, containing strange tools like gold needles, jade probes, and deer-horn blades. His knuckles were as gnarled as old bamboo roots, his nails trimmed short, while his fingertips glowed with a faint golden sheen, likely from years of kneading rare herbs.

Jing Chen bowed his head. "Old master, greetings. My wife and I were traveling to the capital to visit relatives when we encountered bandits. We leaped into the river and found a boat, drifting here. I beg you to save my wife’s life. We shall surely repay your kindness in the future."

The old man reached out to support him. "Since you have arrived, it is fate. I even save tigers; why not people? Come, follow me inside."

In the corner of the courtyard stood a large iron cage holding a magnificent, striped tiger. The beast watched Jing Chen intently.

An elderly, humpbacked woman walked out. "Old man, who are you talking to?"

"Old woman, hurry and boil water! I have a life to save!" the old man said urgently.