Chapter Two: Who Will Claim the Deer? (Part Four)

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IV. Surrounded by Crisis

The day was gradually breaking; though rain drummed steadily, the footsteps outside the door never ceased. Through the slightly propped window, the sky appeared ashen gray.

The rain fell without pause.

Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and in a haze, she returned to her bed. Xiangbao lay down and immediately slipped into sleep.

“Xi Shi, it’s time for supper.” Huamei lifted the curtain and entered.

“Supper?” Xiangbao blinked drowsily, then suddenly awakened, exclaiming, “Is it already evening?”

“Yes. When I checked on you at noon, you were sleeping deeply, and since you’re injured, I didn’t want to disturb you,” Huamei replied with a smile, setting the supper on the table.

“I don’t think I have time to eat,” Xiangbao said with a faint, bitter smile, rising quickly.

“Where are you going? The rain outside is pouring,” Huamei held her back.

“I have to return to the King. If I don’t go soon, I fear something terrible might happen.” Glancing down, she saw she was still wearing Huamei’s clothes. Xiangbao frowned; to return dressed like this would surely implicate Huamei. After a moment’s thought, she asked, “Where are the clothes I wore last night?”

“They’re outside; I’ll fetch them.” Understanding the consequences, Huamei hurried out. Soon, she returned with the blood-stained garments.

Changing back into her own clothes, Xiangbao borrowed a plain outer robe from Huamei to cover herself, so the bloodstains wouldn’t draw attention.

Once dressed, Xiangbao lowered her head and left the Moon-Gazing Pavilion. Guards passed by occasionally, but the searches had become less stringent. She decided to return first to the Drunken Moon Pavilion, even if she had to knock herself out and pretend to be delivered by the masked assassin...

Passing through the corridor, Xiangbao managed to reach the vicinity of the Drunken Moon Pavilion without being questioned. Emerging from the corridor, she dashed through the rain towards the pavilion, but as she was about to rush inside, her steps halted abruptly.

It was Fuchai.

He sat in her usual chair, dressed in a plain white robe, his long hair loose, head bowed, lost in thought. His black hair fell across his brow, obscuring his expression—whether joy or anger, Xiangbao could not tell, and dared not enter.

Though it was summer, the heavy raindrops made her shiver.

As if sensing her presence, Fuchai lifted his head, only to let it fall again without expression; then, after a pause, he suddenly looked up once more. From afar, his narrowed eyes fixed on her.

Seeing him like this, Xiangbao’s heart trembled, and a wild thought struck her—had he been waiting for her all along? Yet his gaze was so cold, it chilled her to the bone, making her shiver even harder.

After a long moment, he finally rose and walked slowly toward her, then stood before her in the rain. Even as the rain poured down, drenching his white robe and long hair, he remained composed, as if strolling through a sunlit courtyard.

“Why are you back so late?” He spoke quietly, his voice blending with the rain, as if she’d simply missed curfew for playing.

Xiangbao froze. He knew—he knew she’d helped the assassin escape.

“The King will wait only one day. If you’re not safely back before tomorrow’s sunset, even if it means overturning the entire state of Wu, I will find you.” That chilling, terrifying tone echoed in her ears; he’d looked at her when he said it. She’d always thought he was threatening Shi Lian, but now—it had been meant for her?

But why, knowing her little trick, had he let Shi Lian go?

“It’s raining today... no sun... ha... haha...” Xiangbao forced a smile, trembling.

He raised his brow, drew her into his arms, his left hand cupping her cheek, mixing rain and warmth as his thumb gently stroked her lips, his narrowed eyes unreadable.

Feeling the cool touch on her lips, Xiangbao blushed faintly—luckily the heavy rain hid it.

But... did this mean she had passed the test?

The rain kept falling, a chill seeped upward from her feet, and as her heart eased, the world began to spin, her consciousness fading.

“Don’t you dare faint!” Strong arms lifted her, striding into the house.

Hearing this, Xiangbao truly dared not faint.

“Bring the Yue girl here,” Fuchai commanded Ziru, not turning his head as he placed Xiangbao on the bed.

Ziru left to obey, and Fuchai began to untie Xiangbao’s wet clothing. She resisted, but he held her fast. Seeing his determination, Xiangbao lowered her eyes in resignation—after all, he’d seen her before. If she thought it through, it wasn’t so bad...

Suddenly, his hand paused. Xiangbao instinctively looked up and saw his lips pressed thin with anger. Following his gaze, she saw her torn, blood-stained dress.

“Have you ever taken to heart what I said, madam?” he whispered, gritting his teeth as he drew closer.

Um... words? Which words?

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“I do not like being saved by women—least of all by my own wife.”

“This time only, never again. If it happens once more, I will make you regret ever saving me.”

The words he’d spoken in the dense forest echoed in her ears, and Xiangbao instinctively shrank back, cursing herself for her lack of backbone—but facing Fuchai, wasn’t it natural to be timid?

“Remember now?” he chuckled, grinding his teeth.

“What are you talking about...” Xiangbao’s voice weakened terribly; she waved her hands feebly before him, then collapsed backward.

Instead of falling onto the bed as expected, she landed in his equally damp embrace. Xiangbao stayed silent, continuing to play at weakness. In truth, she didn’t need to pretend—she’d long wanted to faint, her head spinning.

“You really dare to faint...” His voice gritted near her ear, finally sighing.

Hearing that sigh, Xiangbao let herself sink into unconsciousness.

She felt utterly at ease.

She slept until dawn. When Xiangbao awoke, her clothes had been changed and her wounds bandaged; aside from a lingering dizziness, she was otherwise fine.

“Awake?” A chilling voice startled her.

Frightened, Xiangbao looked up into a pair of deep black eyes. “Maj... Majesty!”

“How should I punish you?” He sat beside her, lifting a lock of her hair to his nose.

Xiangbao’s face turned pale.

Her face, unadorned, framed by her cloud-like hair, appeared pitifully delicate. Fuchai recalled how round her chin had once been when they first met, now her face was smaller than his palm.

“Hmm?” he raised his brow.

“May... may I eat first before being punished?” Her stomach felt empty, and Xiangbao pleaded.

A flicker of amusement shone in his black eyes. Fuchai waved his hand, and Ziru, who had been waiting outside, quickly brought in porridge.

Opening her mouth, she drank from his hand. Xiangbao felt nothing amiss about being fed by him, for her mind was working ceaselessly—how could she escape this predicament?

“Full?” His breath touched her lips.

Feeling him gently lick her lips, Xiangbao’s eyes rolled, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Before he could react, her soft lips pressed clumsily to his.

Fuchai was startled—rarely did beauty take the initiative—so he let her lips linger sweetly and awkwardly on his.

“Does it taste good?” Xiangbao whispered.

“Mm...” He replied, a bit dazed.

Ziru bit her lip and left the room.

“I meant the porridge...” Xiangbao released him, blinking with innocent laughter.

Fuchai recovered, laughed softly, and embraced her, nibbling her ear: “No wonder Prime Minister Wu calls you a calamity.”

Xiangbao giggled foolishly, her laughter silly and bright. Fuchai pinched her cheek, perhaps unaware of just how much affection lay in his gaze.

“Majesty, Prime Minister Wu requests an audience,” someone announced, shattering the moment.

Fuchai looked down, saw Xiangbao’s sly smile of triumph—her “escaped punishment” was written all over her face—and he couldn’t help but laugh, indulging her as he left.

Half reclining on the couch by the window, Xiangbao gazed lazily at an unnamed tree outside, lost in thought until noon. The sunlight was warm, and Si Xiang came to visit, dragging her to the abandoned garden.

Since the garden had been the residence of Meisi’s wife, Si Xiang considered it his territory and forbid anyone from cleaning or repairing it. Over time, it truly became derelict. However, after Si Cha’s body was fished from the garden pond and Qiu Hui was executed by Yun Ji there, Xiangbao had avoided it for a long time.

In summer, the abandoned garden was refreshingly cool—a perfect retreat from the heat. Sitting beneath a large tree, Xiangbao watched as Si Xiang took off his shoes and played by the pond.

“Ah!” Suddenly, Si Xiang screamed, his face ashen, as if he’d seen something terrifying.

Xiangbao started, rushing to his side. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?”

Si Xiang only screamed, his eyes fixed on the pond. Following his gaze, Xiangbao froze. A woman’s body floated atop the water, swollen from soaking, dressed as a maid, her features indistinct.

“Mother... mother!” Si Xiang shrieked.

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“No, that’s not your mother.” Xiangbao quickly covered his eyes. “That’s not her, not your mother.”

Si Xiang struggled violently. “Mother, mother...”

“Mother’s here, right here. That’s not your mother.” Xiangbao held him close, soothing softly.

She felt a patch of wetness in her arms—Si Xiang was crying. Stroking his back gently, Xiangbao frowned at the corpse in the pond. The face seemed familiar; her gaze fell to the collar, and she froze—it was her!

The maid who’d opened their door at Moon-Gazing Pavilion that night, then been knocked out by Shi Lian! But... how did she end up here? Shi Lian had said she’d simply fainted—how could she be dead?

Xiangbao’s face paled.

At some point, the child in her arms had cried himself to sleep, nestled uneasily, tears still clinging to his lashes. A tender corner of Xiangbao’s heart was touched. She gently wiped his tears and carried him away from the abandoned garden.

Si Xiang slept deeply along the way, and Xiangbao, not wanting to wake him, carried him back to the Drunken Moon Pavilion.

Carefully laying Si Xiang on her bed, Xiangbao rose to find Ziru standing behind her.

“Take good care of the Crown Prince. If he wakes, tell him I’ll be back soon,” Xiangbao instructed.

Seeing Xiangbao’s pale yet fierce expression, Ziru nodded hastily. She seemed increasingly accustomed to following Xiangbao’s orders—perhaps the King’s fondness for her was not without reason. She was indeed a woman... impossible to fathom.

Without hesitation, Xiangbao turned and went to Moon-Gazing Pavilion. Passing through the corridor, she encountered a masked woman in white, followed by two palace attendants. The woman in white glanced neither left nor right as she brushed past Xiangbao, who instinctively stopped.

“Who is she?” Before Xiangbao realized it, she’d spoken.

The palace attendants beside the woman in white fell to their knees in terror. “Forgive us, madam, for offending you.”

“Who is she?” Xiangbao pressed, her gaze eerily reminiscent...

“She is but a lowly slave, a gift from Prime Minister Wu to the King. Please forgive us, Lady Xi Shi,” the attendants stammered, fearing Xiangbao might trouble them.

“Lady Xi Shi?” The woman in white suddenly spoke, her eyes taunting.

Xiangbao was shocked—it was her! How was she here? Didn’t Fan Li send her back to Zhuluo Village? How could she now be a gift from Wu Zixu to Fuchai? What had happened?

Xiangbao was dazed, and when she came to herself, she was already at the door of Moon-Gazing Pavilion, greeted not by the maid from that night.

“So this is my fate?” As soon as she entered the garden, a sharp voice rang out—it was Zheng Dan. What were they talking about? Quarreling? Why?

Huamei’s door slammed open, and Zheng Dan stormed out. Upon seeing Xiangbao, she paused, then walked past her without expression, bumping Xiangbao aside.

“Xi Shi?” Huamei followed, and seeing Xiangbao, her expression shifted, then she smiled, “Are you all right?”

“That maid is dead,” Xiangbao said softly, watching Huamei, hoping for something but fearing what she might find.

She saw it—Huamei’s expression turned unnatural.

“Dead, and not just her,” Zheng Dan said coldly, leaving Moon-Gazing Pavilion.

Xiangbao stared, catching only Zheng Dan’s disappearing silhouette. What did her words mean?

“She had to die. If she lived, you would have to die,” Huamei’s voice came from behind, faint and bewildered.

Xiangbao bit her lip, unable to refute.

“Madam! Madam!” Ziru’s voice called from afar, and Huamei fell silent.

“The Crown Prince is trapped in nightmares, unable to wake,” Ziru gasped, clearly having run all the way.

Xiangbao dared not delay, rushing back.

“Mother... mother...” Entering the Drunken Moon Pavilion, Xiangbao heard faint cries from the bedroom.

On the bed, the thin blanket had slipped to the floor, and Si Xiang, eyes closed, kept calling for his mother.

“Don’t kill me, don’t kill me... mother...” His eyes remained shut, lashes wet with tears, his cries growing louder.

Xiangbao hurried forward, cradling him and shaking him awake. He opened his eyes, staring blankly at Xiangbao for a long, long time before burying his head in her arms, silent.

“Mother...” he murmured.

Xiangbao held him tightly.