“Deal?”

The lantern’s flame burned out, the youth stood in the dim alley, brows slightly raised.

“I wish to ask the young master to help me save someone.”

The man was straightforward, directly stating his purpose.

“I am neither a physician, what person could I possibly help you save?” A trace of careless indifference showed in Zhezhu’s eyes.

“Rongzhou City is full of medical halls; if it were for treating illness, I naturally would not seek out the young master,” the man stepped forward two paces, lowering his voice to a near whisper, secretive and guarded, “the person I want you to save is in prison.”

Hearing this, Zhezhu’s refined yet sharp brows lifted slightly. He stared at the mysterious man of unknown name. After a moment, he smiled. “I don’t have that kind of ability.”

“You do,” the man shook his head, meaning heavy in his tone, “after all, the nearly hundred mountain bandits on Xingyun Mountain died by your hand.”

Though Shang Rong was held in Zhezhu’s arms and could not see the man’s appearance, she heard his words clearly, and sudden astonishment flickered in her eyes.

How does he know?

In that instant, the smile in Zhezhu’s eyes vanished completely. “What proof do you have?”

“The fire the young master set in the bandits’ den that day, I saw it all.”

The man spoke without a trace of a smile, “If I report this matter to the authorities, I presume someone will come to verify it with you.”

Such blunt and naked threat instead made the youth’s eyes curve slightly. In the dim, snowy night, the smile in his eyes was cold and heavy. “It seems I have no room to choose.”

“Five days from now is the execution date. If the young master can rescue this person, this matter will rot in my belly forever.” As the man spoke, he tossed something out.

Zhezhu raised a hand to catch it. He lowered his eyes for a light glance at the slender bamboo tube. When he lifted his head again, the man had already leapt into the boundless black night, his presence gone without a trace.

“Has he left?” Shang Rong no longer heard the man speak.

“Mm.”

Zhezhu responded, loosening the hand that had been holding the back of her head.

At this moment, the long alley was silent. Shang Rong’s palms were covered in fine sweat. She straightened her body and looked up, seeing his face.

In the biting night wind, a strand of light hair brushed his pale face. He lowered his eyes to meet her gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“Breaking someone out of prison is a capital crime.” She said.

Hearing this, the youth curled his lips. “I know.”

He turned around. “Didn’t you hear as well? If I don’t go, he will alert the authorities.”

At this point, his steps suddenly paused. He stopped and looked at the girl following behind him. “I’m not worried he truly has ironclad evidence. But once the authorities investigate me, they may not fail to notice you.”

“I can leave.”

Shang Rong walked several steps to stand in front of him. Wisps of mist rose with each breath. “Zhezhu, don’t listen to him.”

“If you leave on your own, aren’t you afraid of being discovered?”

Zhezhu folded his arms, entirely at ease.

“If because of my fear you must risk your life and venture into danger,” Shang Rong lowered her lashes. Receiving no response from him, a trace of urgency entered her voice, “I would rather leave alone.”

She knew that in this world, not everyone held no expectations for their own future.

Zhezhu glanced at her lightly for a moment, and deliberately said, “That would be just right, then you wouldn’t have to copy those two volumes for me in silence?”

“No.”

Shang Rong’s brows knitted slightly, revealing a hint of frustration, yet she still resolved to reason with him properly. “Zhezhu, he may not truly have seen you and me on Xingyun Mountain.”

“Whether there were any who escaped on Xingyun Mountain that day, I know better than anyone.”

Zhezhu resumed walking, snow crunching softly beneath his feet. “He is not a bandit, nor does he resemble an ordinary commoner—then he can only be someone from the authorities.”

In an instant, Shang Rong recalled the group of people she and Zhezhu encountered on the mountain path after descending that day—the head constable who had poked open the spice pouch beneath the saddle, and who had lent them the horse.

“That day on the mountain path, besides the officials, there were also some people dressed in ordinary clothing yet carrying weapons. They should be militia recruited by the authorities.”

His voice was calm and unhurried.

Ordinary prefectures and counties could not mobilize local troops. If bandit trouble arose, the authorities would usually submit a report to the governor-general, and only then could they recruit militia to eliminate the bandits.

They must have gone up the mountain after Shang Rong and he had left, and discovered the bandit den burned into utter ruin.

“If I had known, we should not have gone to the bandits’ stronghold.”

Shang Rong felt some regret.

She could not understand why someone from the authorities would go to such lengths to seek out Zhezhu to break into prison and rescue someone.

Hearing her, Zhezhu turned his face slightly and instead asked, “Was their food not good?”

“Mm?”

Meeting his eyes, Shang Rong felt confused, yet still nodded truthfully. “…It was good.”

Especially the braised pork, it was cooked the best.

“Since it was good, what is there to regret?”

“I hate this kind of self-righteous threat,” the youth let out a soft scoff. Orange-yellow light spilled over him at the mouth of the alley. “I didn’t kill him only because I want to see what he’s really up to.”

Shang Rong suddenly fell silent. Her lowered gaze rested on the hem of the youth’s robe swaying with his steps. He was free and unrestrained, like a wisp of clear wind that no one could gather into their palm.

And she was a paper kite carried far by the wind—she did not know when she would either be dashed to pieces, or be yanked back fiercely by the hand holding the string.

“Don’t worry.”

Suddenly, she heard him say.

When she raised her head, snowflakes were distinct, grain by grain, amid the interwoven lantern light. In this long, silent night, only his proud, cool voice was so clear:

“You came out to wander with me. I have plenty of ways to keep you safe.”

The night deepened. The lights in the inn room were all extinguished.

Shang Rong, full of worries, fell into exhausted sleep on the couch. She did not know that while she slept, the youth separated from her by only a single screen had already leapt soundlessly out of the window lattice, concealing himself within the wind and snow.

An octagonal tall tower standing in the west of the city could only be faintly glimpsed under the moonlight, its blurred outline barely visible. The bronze bells hanging from the tower rang softly in the night wind.

“Seventeenth Dharma Protector.”

On the octagonal tower where not a single light shone, Jiang Ying lowered his head and reported the information he had obtained truthfully. “Your subordinate has already confirmed that the head constable who lent you the horse at the foot of Xingyun Mountain that day was not from Dongyuan County yamen, but from the Rongzhou prefectural yamen, and is highly favored by the newly appointed prefect.”

“Did you see clearly the appearance of the man tonight?” The youth in black turned around, a few layers of meaning pressing beneath his refined brows and eyes.

Jiang Ying nodded, then added, “He is not one of that head constable’s men.”

Zhezhu said nothing. From his waist he took out the bamboo tube and slowly unfolded the folded paper within. Moonlight cast a thin coldness over his expression. His thick lashes lowered slightly as he silently examined the person in the painting, dressed in Daoist robes.

Several lines of writing along the left described the man’s features.

“Since he is a prisoner soon to be executed, there should be some rumors about him among the common folk,” Zhezhu said, handing the portrait to Jiang Ying. “In Great Yan, Daoists rarely receive capital punishment. It should not be difficult to find out what crime he committed.”

“Yes.” Jiang Ying hurriedly accepted the portrait. When he raised his head again, he said, “Seventeenth Dharma Protector, as per your instructions, I reported to the Tower Master that the Eleventh Dharma Protector died by your hand. As expected, she did not send a single word of blame in reply. But look at these…”

As Jiang Ying spoke, he handed several portraits from his chest to him.

Under the faint moonlight, the person on the paper was unmistakably Shang Rong’s outline. Zhezhu’s expression shifted slightly as he took the several wrinkled sheets.

“These have all been delivered into the tower recently. Though the identities differ, the faces are all the same,” a strange expression surfaced on Jiang Ying’s face. “The offered prices are all extremely high, yet the Tower Master ignores them… Seventeenth Dharma Protector, could it be that the Tower Master already knows the person in these portraits is Princess Mingyue?”

But after thinking, he felt something was off. “But how did she learn it?”

Just as Jiang Ying was utterly unable to understand, he suddenly heard the youth before him let out a cold laugh. Startled, he looked up at the youth’s pale face.

“She did not know before.”

The sinews beneath the thin skin on the back of the youth’s hand tightened as he slowly crushed the sheets into small paper balls. “But now that these things have reached her hands, she knows everything.”

Zhifeng Tower never asked about the employer’s identity—but that was only not asking, not not investigating.

If the Tower Master truly dared to take on any business without restraint, Zhifeng Tower would not have stood firm in the jianghu for so many years.

“She still cannot get over Eleventh Brother’s betrayal, and she hates her own negligence for failing to grasp the identity of the person who told Eleventh Brother the truth,” his eyes were pitch-black, his expression extremely cold. “She originally only wanted to release false information to lure that person out. But she did not expect that Princess Mingyue would truly disappear.”

Zhifeng Tower did not interfere in royal affairs, but that did not mean it dared not provoke officials.

“So the Tower Master is doing this only to find, among these employers, the person behind the Eleventh Dharma Protector…” Jiang Ying felt cold sweat bead faintly on him. “Just because Zhifeng Tower refuses a job does not mean others in the jianghu will refuse it. It seems that Princess Mingyue has now become a scalding hot potato.”

Zhezhu toyed with the small paper balls in his hand. Hearing this, he thought for a moment and said, “Very scalding.”

He thought of her slender, fragile frame—timid and weak—yet she was the thorn in the eyes of so many who wished to remove her quickly.

The bronze bell at the corner of the eaves swayed, giving a dull chime. Fine snow melted into the youth’s dark temples. At this moment, Jiang Ying cupped his hands and urged,

“Seventeenth Dharma Protector, the Tower Master has repeatedly pressed you to go to Shuqing soon. You truly have no need to concern yourself with the life or death of Princess Mingyue.”

“Our Zhifeng Tower ought to stay as far away from those of the royal family as possible.”