The blade was pressed beside the young man’s jade-white neck; with a tremble of the hand, it could draw a line of blood.
Lin Yuanjin hurriedly withdrew the dagger, afraid of hurting him, carefully sheathing it, and said frankly, “I am just afraid.”
“Right now, the only one I can trust is you.” She met the young man’s pitch-black eyes, recalling, in the moment of escape, the figure of the person who protected her crying and shouting for her to run and live on, and said uneasily in a low voice, “What is your name?”
“If I were to marry the Crown Prince in the future, would you still protect me?”
The young man paused, as if not expecting Lin Yuanjin to ask his name.
But a shadow guard, especially a shadow substitute like him, was never allowed to have his own name, only a simple code name.
Outside the inn room came the voices of guests downstairs, along with the constant sound of the shop assistant’s footsteps going back and forth.
The young man’s pupils suddenly moved; hearing an unusual disturbance outside the window, he swiftly sat beside Lin Yuanjin, grasped her wrist bone, and lowered his voice: “I am a shadow guard born of the Cui clan, you may call me Yiyu.”
Yiyu—that was his code name.
The Cui clan was the current Empress’s family, the Crown Prince’s maternal clan, and thus his master’s family.
The Crown Prince’s given name carried the meaning of “jade,” as if to bind fate through the name, so the master’s family gave this substitute a corresponding code name.
Dense footsteps sounded outside the door.
“Move aside, don’t block the way!” someone downstairs said impatiently.
“In broad daylight, you—you people, what are you trying to do?!” The shop assistant downstairs was shoved aside in a sorry state, stumbling to one side, as if not understanding why bandits would suddenly raid the town.
“Go, search for people!”
The arrogant and heavy footsteps were like death-knelling drums, growing faster and faster, pressing straight toward them, and then someone hammered on the wooden door of their room, voice irritable: “Open the door!”
Lin Yuanjin leaned back nervously, glancing at Cui Yiyu unnaturally.
Cui Yiyu took two chopsticks from the table, then drew out a dagger, his well-defined fingers moving like a flourish—“ci la” twice, shaving the ends of the chopsticks into sharp points.
Ignoring the shadow at the door, he silently paced to the window, one hand steadying the frame, the other gripping the chopsticks, gently opening the window into a narrow slit. The wooden chopstick at his fingertips shot toward the leader standing below the inn with lightning speed.
The bearded brute stood with arms crossed, eyes fierce, feet stamping up dust like counting beats, veins bulging across his forehead, waiting for his subordinates’ report.
In the blink of an eye, a dark streak split the air. He tried to turn and dodge, but precisely because of that reflexive movement, his temple collided head-on with the chopstick. He had no time even to scream, only his eyes splitting with fury as he fell.
A startled cry rose from below; no one expected a life to be taken in broad daylight.
“One.” Cui Yiyu turned his head cleanly, his hands not stopping.
The person at the door had just prepared to shove it open violently, but was suddenly distracted by the commotion below. At the instant he turned sideways, the next chopstick shot through the door paper with a “sou,” precisely piercing his head.
“Two.”
Cui Yiyu’s slender fingers brushed by the candle, and in one motion he smeared wax over the hole pierced by the chopstick, sealing the small opening. He opened the door and then closed it, stepping out himself, isolating the danger outside.
“These days, any bandit dares to make trouble beneath the imperial city,” his indifferent comment came from outside, followed by the sound of him leaping down the stairs and entangling with the others in combat.
Lin Yuanjin held onto the bedframe, her eyes tightly shut, her heartbeat abnormally fast, as if pounding against her eardrums. Fear flooded her mind, leaving her unable to find any peace.
At this moment, her life and death were entirely tied to Cui Yiyu alone—if he died, she would die.
The sounds of killing outside the door continued for who knew how long; by the time the noise had completely faded, the incense on the table had already burned out.
When the door opened again, a heavy stench of blood drifted in with the wind. There was still a smear of blood not fully wiped clean at the side of Cui Yiyu’s cheek, and in his hand he was dragging along an old physician with grizzled beard and hair who kept saying, “This won’t do.”
He had been indifferent, but the moment he saw Lin Yuanjin upon entering, he hesitated for once, raising his hand to wipe the blood from his face with his sleeve.
“The wounded downstairs are all vicious bandits who chased my master here. I trouble you to examine her condition.” Cui Yiyu released his grip, lightly pushing the old physician’s back, and closed the door behind him with a reverse hand.
The old physician had been unwilling in every possible way; if not for truly lacking silver to support his household, he would not have followed that attendant to the inn. Seeing the mess downstairs, he had turned to leave on the spot, yet before his old arms and legs could carry him far, he had been seized by this pale-faced youth.
He feared he had brought trouble upon himself.
Seeing the old physician’s displeased expression, Lin Yuanjin’s heart tightened. She immediately raised a smile, attempting to ease the atmosphere: “It is my injury that is severe; Yiyu acted rudely in his urgency. I ask the physician not to hold it against him.”
She sat upright on the bed, both hands obediently resting on her knees, like a well-bred young lady from the inner chambers. Yet her face was deathly pale, her voice hoarse, frail like fragile white porcelain—only her gaze remained clear, carrying caution, as if afraid an outsider would blame her servant.
Cui Yiyu silently stepped to her side, lowering his eyes and saying nothing further.
For a male of the same generation to remain by the side of a girl from a noble family without harming her reputation, his status naturally had to be somewhat lowly.
Seeing Lin Yuanjin in such a state, as though trapped and helpless, and hearing that the youth had acted in urgency to protect his master, the old physician felt less resistance. With a healer’s benevolence, he quickly sat on a stool at the side, closed his eyes, and took her pulse, murmuring something under his breath.
After a thorough examination—observing, listening, questioning, and palpating—the old physician finally wrote several prescriptions and handed them over, instructing that they be taken three times a day, the medicine not to be interrupted.
The old physician had just prepared to leave when Lin Yuanjin urgently called out, “Physician.”
“Could you also take a look at him?” Lin Yuanjin hesitated as she tugged lightly at Cui Yiyu’s sleeve. “He has protected me all the way; he must have injuries on him.”
The old physician saw the youth sitting straight, as if he had never expected Lin Yuanjin to say such a thing, and let out a long sigh. “Take off your clothes and let this old man have a look.”
He pressed with his hand, listened with his ear—the pulse was steady and robust, youth in full vigor, nothing wrong there.
Then the problem must lie in external injuries.
Cui Yiyu stiffened all over, calmly turning his head aside, as if refusing without words.
Lin Yuanjin hesitated, then said softly, “One must not avoid treatment out of fear,” and shifted back slightly, turning to face the wall, as composed as a virtuous gentleman who would not be tempted even with a beauty in his arms. “I will not look at you. You can be at ease.”
Cui Yiyu: “……”
That was not what he meant.
The old physician paid it no mind, arranging the tools he had brought in his medicine box. Seeing Cui Yiyu still unmoving after a long while, he raised his head suspiciously and asked, “Why are you still standing there?”
Why act like some unmarried young lady, still too embarrassed to let go of face in front of this old man?
The expression on Cui Yiyu’s face turned subtle. He glanced at Lin Yuanjin but said nothing. To avoid arousing unnecessary suspicion, he finally turned his body, moved the stool to the other side, and raised his hand to undo the hidden fastenings.
With the rustling sound of clothes falling away, Lin Yuanjin grew tense instinctively, her fingers tightening as she lowered her head.
Across two lifetimes she had little experience, much less in matters between men and women. In her previous life she had been busy with her studies, trying to prove herself; in this life, confined to the inner chambers, she had even less contact with the opposite sex.
Lin Yuanjin could only hypnotize herself—this was a medical examination, just like exposing one’s body at a swimming pool; all of it was normal, nothing to be embarrassed about.
Suddenly, the old physician sucked in a sharp breath and let out a long sigh. “These injuries of yours!”
Lin Yuanjin felt as though she were standing outside an operating room hearing a critical condition notice; her mind blanked instantly. She did not even have time to worry about her own safety before she turned her head in panic. Through the semi-transparent bed curtain, she suddenly saw the young man’s lean, taut body.
His body was not like that of a broad-shouldered adult; his lean frame carried a trace of youthfulness. Exposed abruptly to the slightly cool air, his shoulder blades flanked his straight spine, and below that was a narrow, firm waist—one look and it was clear it had been tempered through countless trials.
Only at the neck and body was there a faint dividing line; because it rarely saw sunlight, the skin was pale enough to seem translucent, and thus the purplish bruises and snake-like red scabs appeared especially shocking.
As if hearing movement, Cui Yiyu turned his head slightly, and through the bed curtain vaguely saw Lin Yuanjin with her eyes tightly shut, the rims of her ears flushed red, pretending to be deaf and mute, as though she had done something unspeakable.
At the side, the old physician frowned tightly, sighing as he began to treat Cui Yiyu’s external wounds in silence.
His hands were deft, as if long accustomed to such things; wounds that had not yet scabbed split open at a single wipe, blood dripping into the basin that had just been brought, staining strip after strip of white cloth red.
Though the old physician was experienced, his hands were inevitably somewhat unsteady, lacking a bit of precision. Cui Yiyu seemed to have no sense of pain, not making a sound, while Lin Yuanjin, who could only see the blood from the bed, felt her heart tighten more and more.
“I have taken care of your wounds. Later, when the runner brings the medicine, your master’s injuries must also be treated promptly.” The old physician cut off the final strip of cloth, set down the scissors drenched in sweat, and gave a casual reminder as he picked up his medicine box and stood.
When Lin Yuanjin heard “your master,” she felt especially unnatural. Raising her hand, she removed a pair of exquisite jade earrings from her earlobes and handed them over, saying softly, “Many thanks, physician.”
Seeing the evidently valuable jewelry in Lin Yuanjin’s hand, the old physician glanced at her, did not refuse, and accepted them vaguely without further words before turning to leave.
Cui Yiyu flipped his wrist and swiftly pulled the removed clothing back up to his neck. Yet when fastening the buttons, his usually nimble fingers stiffened for a moment; the collar fastened at his slender neck, revealing only a hint of his Adam’s apple.
After tidying his clothes, he turned and saw that Lin Yuanjin had nearly retreated into the corner, her gaze flickering, her whole body filled with restraint and… propriety, as though afraid of tarnishing his chastity.
But he was merely a blade of his master—how could he be worthy of such concern from a noble person?
If not for the surrounding disarray, Lin Yuanjin would in fact match the image of a noble young lady in Cui Yiyu’s impression—one who should be surrounded by blooming flowers, carefree and without worry.
She did not seem meant to be in muddy rural lands, but rather to be cherished and pampered, only needing to trouble herself over whether her hairpins and jade ornaments suited her taste.
Yet unfortunately, she had been framed by others.
But such a gentle and harmless woman was, in truth, not suited to be the Crown Princess.
Cui Yiyu shifted his stance slightly, his dark eyes like a clear mirror: “Do you know who wants to harm you?”
Lin Yuanjin paused at his question and shook her head.
“Though those people disguised themselves as bandits, their movements were trained and orderly. The feathers at the ends of their arrows were arranged uniformly and bore no markings; to avoid exposing their identities, they had all been specially treated.” Cui Yiyu stated what he had seen and judged. “This case has been ordered by His Highness the Crown Prince to be thoroughly investigated, but there may not necessarily be results.”
Seeing Lin Yuanjin lifting her eyes, as if obediently listening to a teacher’s instruction, he softly added, “In the future, you will encounter many such things.”
This was only the beginning.
And Cui Yiyu was the Crown Prince’s shadow guard; if not for this special occasion, he rarely showed himself. Even if Lin Yuanjin were to enter the Eastern Palace in the future, he would not remain by her side at all times.
A sound came from the door, interrupting their conversation.
“Please open the door, this one has brought medicine for the honored guest.”
Cui Yiyu rose swiftly, in a flash arriving at the door. The dagger was reversed and pressed against his wrist bone, ready to take a life at any moment. He leaned against one side of the door, his eyes almost unmoving, like an owl in the night watching its prey.
When he opened the door, took the medicine packet, and handed over some loose silver, the person seemed unaware that he had just walked past the edge of a blade, leaving with a beaming smile. Only then did Cui Yiyu withdraw the dagger, close the door with a reverse hand, and turn to look at Lin Yuanjin. “Shall I find a woman to help you?”
“No need!” Lin Yuanjin refused quickly, her breathing turning unsteady, her slender shoulders tensing as she subconsciously clenched her hands, as though afraid of encountering another stranger who might harm her. Realizing her reaction was too strong, she tried to relax, yet could not conceal the tremor in her voice. “I will do it myself.”
Cui Yiyu nodded and was just about to open the door and leave when he heard the sound of bottles and jars clattering behind him, as though she lacked the strength and could not hold them steady.
His steps paused. He slowly turned around, his dark eyes fixed on Lin Yuanjin, who became more flustered the harder she tried.
Just as Lin Yuanjin lifted her head, before nervousness could appear in her eyes, she heard the young man calmly say the next sentence.
“If you do not mind, you may treat me as an object, a tool, and let me help you tend to your wounds.”
If she did not regard him as human, then her chastity would not be sullied.
