XIAHOU LIAN STARED BLANKLY at Shen Jue. For a moment, he forgot to speak.
Never in his wildest dreams had he expected to meet Shen Jue on the road, but after initially hanging in suspense, his heart now slowly settled back into place.
The brat is alive and well. That's good.
Shen Jue turned his horse around and met Xiahou Lian's gaze. From across the crowd of riders, Shen Jue's eyes were cold and unfamiliar. Feeling as if he'd been scorched by a flame, Xiahou Lian quickly averted his gaze, nudging his horse to fall back.
Zhu Shunzi was petrified. "W-we wouldn't want to impose!" he stammered. "It was my mistake. I'm truly sorry!" He shot Xiahou Lian a frantic look that screamed, "Let's go! Now!"
"Why spurn us?" Shen Jue asked, bowing slightly from his saddle, a faint smile on his lips. "Meeting like this is fate. The roads have indeed been unsafe lately—so many bandits. Traveling together will be safer for all of us. I am Xie Jinglan; I currently serve as one of the Eastern Depot's local supervisors. You may address me as Superintendent Xie."
Hearing those three syllables—Xie Jinglan—Xiahou Lian felt his heart seize. He tightened his grip on the reins.
Zhu Shunzi's legs trembled uncontrollably. "Th-this…" he stuttered, casting another glance at Xiahou Lian.
"In that case, we respectfully accept your offer," Xiahou Lian said. He clasped his hands together, forcing a courteous smile.
Zhu Shunzi glared at him, but Xiahou Lian ignored it, urging his horse forward to follow the agents. Zhu Shunzi reluctantly trailed behind them. They rode swiftly, the agents moving in eerie silence like a soundless yet unstoppable tide. Pounding hooves sent up dust clouds, and from afar, the riders resembled black arrows cutting through the wind. At their forefront was Shen Jue, the arrow's bared tip, cold and unyielding.
They rode for an entire day, stopping only at nightfall to set up camp. Zhu Shunzi was so exhausted he wanted to collapse where he was, but he forced himself to stay alert, seizing the chance to huddle close to Xiahou Lian and discuss their next move.
"Old Yan, what do we do now?" Zhu Shunzi groaned, his head pounding. "We were masked during our assassination attempt, so Shen Jue hasn't recognized us, but still—we've walked right into the lion's den! How do we get out of this alive?" A moment later, he muttered to himself, "We're doomed. And what does it mean that my right eyelid won't stop twitching? Is that good luck or bad luck?"
The sky was overcast, and rain soon blew in on a cool wind, leaving dark, coin-sized spots on the ground. The agents busied themselves setting up tents, barriers, and fires for cooking. Zhu Shunzi buzzed constantly in Xiahou Lian's ear, but Xiahou Lian's attention was fixed on Shen Jue, who had stepped away from the group and stood alone on a small hill dozens of yards away.
Although he was too distant to see clearly, Xiahou Lian could make out Shen Jue's dark silhouette, solitary and forlorn.
Zhu Shunzi tugged his sleeve. "Hey, Old Yan, are you even listening?"
Xiahou Lian turned. "They're clearly on a secret mission. Now that we've seen them, they won't just let us go. We're lucky they haven't killed us already."
"Then what do we do? Maybe we can slip away, find a relay station, and send word to Wei-gonggong—"
"Enough," Xiahou Lian cut him off. "Stay put. Don't cause any trouble or I'll beat you to a pulp myself!" He rose and approached one of the agents. "Your supervisor is out in the rain. Aren't you going to take him an umbrella?"
The agent shook his head. "He forbade us to approach him when he's alone."
Xiahou Lian frowned. "So you're just going to leave him out there? His health is frail. What if he gets sick?"
The agent gave him a strange look, as if Xiahou Lian were meddling in something that wasn't his business. Xiahou Lian glanced around, then grabbed an oilpaper umbrella he'd spotted among someone's belongings.
"Hey, what are you doing?" the umbrella's owner protested.
Ignoring the objections, Xiahou Lian walked toward Shen Jue. Reaching him, he opened the umbrella. The vast twilit world around them was enveloped in light drizzle, but the umbrella created a small, sheltered space. Xiahou Lian tilted it toward Shen Jue, shielding him completely and leaving himself exposed. Raindrops gathered on the umbrella's surface, streaming over its edges like beads off a broken string and pattering onto Xiahou Lian's shoulders. Shen Jue was clearly surprised. He paused, and his lips curved into a faint smile.
"Thank you."
His complexion was poor, pale as paper. A red scratch marred his right cheek, although it was thin enough to go unnoticed from a distance. The guy must've gotten into a fight and had his face scratched. At least it's not too serious—it probably won't leave a scar.
Memories overwhelmed Xiahou Lian like a cloud of smoke. He recalled the frail but prideful young master Shen Jue had once been. Now, he'd grown tall, standing straight-backed and composed, but traces of his old self still lingered. Xiahou Lian couldn't help but wonder, If I'm no longer a Qiye Garden assassin, and if Shen Jue is no longer chief of the Eastern Depot, couldn't we reconcile? Couldn't we go back to how we were in our youth?
But the thought made him laugh bitterly at himself. After all, they'd become strangers walking two separate roads. What was the point of dredging up old memories? Shoving the umbrella into Shen Jue's hand, Xiahou Lian turned to leave.
"Commander Gao," Shen Jue called out suddenly, "Since there's nothing better to do, why don't we chat?" He'd lived in the capital so long that his words carried its distinctive accent.
Taken aback, Xiahou Lian paused for a moment before saying, "All right." He took the umbrella back from Shen Jue, then held it over him again.
Though Shen Jue had mentioned chatting, neither he nor Xiahou Lian spoke. It was as if both were waiting, testing the other's patience. The only sound was the soft patter of the rain on the wind that chilled their faces.
Eventually, the silence grew too heavy for Xiahou Lian. He glanced around restlessly before noticing a string of deep-red prayer beads hanging from Shen Jue's wrist. Unable to hold back, he broke the silence. "Do you practice Buddhism, Superintendent?"
Shen Jue lifted his wrist and looked down at the beads—smooth, glossy red orbs strung together, a tourmaline Buddha head fixed to one bead. Lashes lowered, he replied, "I did for a while. I had the beads blessed, drew divination sticks at a temple, even requested a longevity plaque.26 I tried every ritual the temples offered. But what's the point? Heaven doesn't hear our prayers, and the gods don't notice our devotion. The things we cannot attain ourselves remain unattainable."
"Maybe the time just hasn't come yet," Xiahou Lian replied. "You mentioned paying for a longevity plaque on someone's behalf—do you wear those beads for the same person's sake?"
"Yes—for someone I once knew," Shen Jue said softly. The wind swept past, cool and biting, its faint chill settling into his expression. "I went to the capital's most revered temple, prayed for their safety, wished them a long life…but they died anyway."
Xiahou Lian was no stranger to death; over the past decade, it had followed him like a shadow. He still couldn't regard it with complete indifference, but he had learned to face it calmly. Seeing how deeply the memory of Shen Jue's "old acquaintance" haunted him, Xiahou Lian assumed he was speaking of a lover from his days at the palace. Deliberating for a moment, Xiahou Lian chose his words carefully and said, "Life's limits are ultimately unsurpassable—when it's our time to go, we must. Whoever you lost, she's up there in the heavens, and I'm sure she wouldn't want you to be sad. Try to find peace, Superintendent."
Shen Jue shuddered at his words. He spoke slowly, his tone icy. "An ultimate, unsurpassable limit—how fitting. In that case, these star-and-moon bodhi beads are useless junk. I might as well throw them away." He slid the prayer beads from his wrist and flung them into the rain. They landed on the slope below and lost their luster as the mud and rain splattered them.
Xiahou Lian frowned. "Why would you throw them away?" He thrust the umbrella handle into Shen Jue's hand, ducked out from beneath its cover, and descended the slope to retrieve the beads. Carefully, he wiped the dirt off them with his sleeve and held them out to Shen Jue.
Standing on the slope in the rain, his hair soaked and sticking to his face, Xiahou Lian looked up at Shen Jue, who stood holding the umbrella and gazing down at him.
"Keep them," Xiahou Lian urged. "You've used them for so long—they can at least be a keepsake. Or, who knows—maybe you'll meet that person you mentioned in the underworld."
Shen Jue let out a mocking laugh. "The underworld?"
"Or the next life."
"Next life?" Shen Jue repeated. "I don't care about the next life. Only this one."
He handed the umbrella back to Xiahou Lian and walked back toward camp, hands clasped behind his back. Smoke was already rising from the campfires, and Zhu Shunzi waved at Xiahou Lian. One of Xiahou Lian's shoulders was soaked, but he didn't mind. He lowered his head and looked at the prayer beads—still glossy red, they gleamed like gemstones even in the rain. He tucked them carefully into his coat and headed back to the camp.
The group finished their evening meal and rested for an hour, then resumed their journey. Seeing that they intended to travel through the night, Zhu Shunzi mustered the courage to feign illness, loudly demanding a break and suggesting that they go on without him. Shen Jue's officers would have none of it—they picked Zhu Shunzi up and shoved him onto a horse. One even rested a hand on his sword hilt, his gaze unmistakably threatening. Zhu Shunzi had no choice but to continue with them, thoroughly deflated.
Night unfurled like a scroll, dark and heavy. They avoided the main roads, taking forest trails instead. Overlapping leaves formed layers of shifting shadows, rustling in the wind like a chorus of whispers. Hooves splashed through muddy puddles, flinging up specks of mud. After a half hour of travel, the rain suddenly intensified, as if the heavens had cracked open. Torrents of droplets fell like arrows, piercing the earth. Thunder roared and lightning raged as fiercely as dragons and serpents, the blinding flashes lighting up the forest as if it were daytime. At those moments, the officers' dark silhouettes became visible; they were draped in rain capes, their expressions stern.
Over the storm's roar, a man named Situ Jin shouted, "Split into three groups and surround Hengtang Inn! If anyone steps out of the inn, kill them on sight!"
"Yes, sir!" the agents roared in response.
The formation shifted rapidly as the cavalry split into three distinct groups riding forward in tandem. Xiahou Lian and Zhu Shunzi found themselves boxed into the middle, unable to advance or retreat. A chill ran down Xiahou Lian's spine as a realization dawned on him—these officers weren't headed to Jiading. They were racing onward to conduct a raid! Could the forces loyal to Wei De be inside Hengtang Inn?
Zhu Shunzi looked at Xiahou Lian in panic, but there was nothing Xiahou Lian could do—intentionally or not, the officers had hemmed the pair in, leaving them no escape. Their only option was to move with the crowd.
When they arrived in Hengtang Town, everyone reined their horses in across the road from the inn. Shen Jue's officers shed their rain capes and quickly changed into black clothing, hiding their faces behind porcelain-white masks. Xiahou Lian's eyes widened in horror—these officers were the assassins from the Shili Village relay station!
The officers dismounted, their goose-quill sabers glinting under the street lanterns' red glow. The blades were long and slender, their intricately engraved, gilded hilts both elegant and menacing. At Situ Jin's signal, the officers silently scattered into the narrow alleys surrounding the inn. The rain drowned out their footsteps as they moved through the darkness like silent phantoms.
Watchmen stood guard at the inn's front and back doors. A few of Shen Jue's officers climbed onto rooftops opposite the inn and nocked arrows to their bows. With a whistle, arrows shot through the rain. In the next instant, the watchmen fell dead. Simultaneously, two squads of officers slipped ghostlike through the inn doors. Time ticked by slowly, and then the sound of chaos erupted within the inn, accompanied by flickering firelight and faint wails that carried through the rain. Suddenly, the inn's main door burst open, and a man bolted out in panic—only for an officer to grab him and immediately drag him back inside.
Xiahou Lian grimaced, his eyes fixed on the tall, unmoving figure ahead of him. Shen Jue stood silently, his back straight and resolute. Gradually, the disturbance inside the inn died down.
Shen Jue turned to look at Xiahou Lian and Zhu Shunzi, then suddenly gave Xiahou Lian a chilling smile. "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you about Yan Xiaobei—I was the one who had him killed."
Xiahou Lian's pupils contracted sharply, cold dread racing down his spine as if frost were forming on his very bones.
Situ Jin, who'd been quiet until now, addressed Shen Jue. "And this Deputy Zhu must be Zhu Shunzi, the officer, right?"
"What…what're you talking about? I…I don't understand, Old Yan!" Zhu Shunzi stammered in terror, looking back and forth between Situ Jin and Xiahou Lian.
"When you and Yan Xiaobei escaped the supervisor's residence, we were already watching you," Situ Jin explained. "So we know who you are. You're amateurs—you shouldn't have returned home right after the assassination attempt, and you should've checked to make sure you weren't being followed."
"Then Old Yan…Old Yan was killed…? What does that mean…?" Zhu Shunzi asked, trembling.
"Originally, you were just ants—unworthy of my attention," Shen Jue said coldly, his gaze sweeping over them. "But Yan Xiaobei injured my face. That's unforgivable—even if it was a minor wound."
Momentarily forgetting his own peril, Zhu Shunzi stared at Xiahou Lian, thunderstruck. "So…so…"
"So…" Shen Jue turned to Xiahou Lian. "Who are you really? Considering how masterful your disguise is…" Shen Jue's expression flickered. It was as if his icy mask was starting to melt, revealing another face beneath. Staring intently at Xiahou Lian, he asked, "Xiahou Lian—is that you?"