“She is a princess?!”

Hearing this, Jiang Ying was truly startled. Only now did he suddenly realize why the Seventeenth Protector had followed the Eleventh Protector all the way to Nanzhou.

For people of the jianghu to meddle in imperial affairs was never a good thing. What was more, the one the Eleventh Protector intended to kill was the daughter of Prince Rong, rumored to have descended into the world accompanied by an omen and proclaimed by the Emperor himself with golden words — “the Bright Moon of Great Yan.”

Among the five golden butterfly hairpins of Yu Fengzhai, the most delicate and precious one had recently been purchased by Shen Yutai’s wife, yet it had somehow ended up in the hands of a girl of unknown origin. Jiang Ying had not understood before, but hearing Zhezhu’s words now, and recalling that the imperial entourage was presently in Nanzhou, if one were to say that this golden butterfly had been presented by Shen Yutai to Princess Mingyue, it was not impossible.

“On the official road that day, besides the Eleventh Protector and his men, there was another group of mysterious people of unknown identity who carried out the ambush. That group rushed out first, but from what this subordinate saw, the Eleventh Protector showed no surprise at the time.” The more carefully Jiang Ying pondered the ambush on the official road that day, the more he sensed something strange about it.

This deal had been full of oddities from the very beginning.

“To pass off Princess Mingyue as the Gu family’s daughter from Yongxing’s Guning Prefecture… one truly wonders how the employer behind this deal managed to deceive the Eleventh Protector.” Jiang Ying stood up, his thoughts yielding no result.

“Deceive?”

Zhezhu let out a soft laugh. “How do you know he was not aware beforehand?”

“The Eleventh Protector knew beforehand? Then he…” Jiang Ying parted his lips, paused, then continued, “Not interfering in imperial affairs is a rule set by the Tower Master. Would he really knowingly violate it?”

If the Eleventh Protector and the others had truly succeeded that day, they would have brought endless trouble upon Zhifeng Tower.

Everyone knew that Princess Mingyue was the most cherished by the current Sage.

Even the foremost assassin organization of the jianghu could not easily contend against imperial authority — not to mention that the Lingxiao Guards beside the Sage were far from ordinary.

“In the past he would not have, but now he certainly would,” Zhezhu turned around. “That day, I deliberately mentioned his deceased wife. He immediately changed expression and flew into a rage at me, and then assumed on his own that I was the one who killed her.”

Before entering Zhifeng Tower, Eleven had already formed many enmities in the jianghu. He had always believed that his wife, whom he had hidden in Nanzhou, died at the hands of his enemies. Because of this, he searched everywhere for vengeance, killing recklessly. When he was gravely injured, he was saved by the Tower Master of Zhifeng Tower. Thereafter, he entered Zhifeng Tower, cast aside his former name and identity. People in the tower only knew that he and the Tower Master shared deep feelings, but none knew that he once had a wife who died young.

“But how did you come to know about his wife?” Jiang Ying was puzzled.

“Since entering Zhifeng Tower, he has been in Nanzhou every year on the nineteenth day of the third month.” In the cold wind, Zhezhu’s voice carried a trace of snowy sharpness, tinged with meaning. “What is interesting is that on that very day — the nineteenth of the third month — the Tower Master is also often absent from Zhifeng Tower.”

“You mean… the Tower Master… is also in Nanzhou?” Only now did Jiang Ying finally grasp it. He was no ignorant youth untouched by matters of romance; instinctively, he sensed the deeper implication.

A woman who could take up the burden when the old Tower Master was critically ill and manage Zhifeng Tower into the number one assassin organization under heaven — how could she be any kind of benevolent person? Why she saved Eleven back then, no one knew the inner truth. But now it seemed… perhaps the Tower Master and Eleven had originally known each other.

“Brother Eleven is deeply grateful for the Tower Master’s great kindness and has always been obedient to her. Yet this time he colluded with others, intending to push Zhifeng Tower into danger… unless someone proved to him that his wife died at the Tower Master’s hands. Otherwise, Jiang Ying, I cannot imagine what grievance could outweigh the life-saving grace she gave him.”

The tassel at the youth’s waist swayed lightly in the wind, his expression gaining a hint of weariness.

Love… truly a strange thing. Even the Tower Master of Zhifeng Tower could not escape it.

“This…”

Jiang Ying was utterly astonished. He opened his mouth, and after a long while said, “The one who conspired with him — could it be that other group who ambushed Princess Mingyue that day?”

“Those people were not there to kill her,” Zhezhu shook his head and let out a scoff. “Their ambitions run deeper, they want to kill the emperor.”

As his words fell, he raised his head to observe the sky, as if calculating something in his mind. Then he neatly put away the golden butterfly hairpin. “Brother Eleven died by my hand, you may report that to the Tower Master. But the matter of Princess Mingyue being in my hands, you must not let even the slightest whisper of it leak.”

Jiang Ying first responded softly in acknowledgment, then hesitated slightly. “You are not returning to the tower?”

“Not returning.”

Snow fell in flurries. The youth’s eyes were dark and bright, calm and unhurried, revealing a trace of unrestrained ease.

“I won’t be going back anytime soon. I’m going to have some fun.”

Jiang Ying had long grown accustomed to it. In the tower, only Protector Seventeen could act with such unrestrained ease — for his abilities and methods destined him to be like the wind, uncertain and untethered.

“Protector Seventeen, but the Tower Master sent word yesterday, asking you to make a trip to Shuqing.” The packed snow rustled. Jiang Ying came back to his senses and saw that the youth had already walked several steps away, so he hurried forward and respectfully presented a bamboo tube.

Zhezhu glanced down at the bamboo tube but did not reach out to take it, only asking, “Liu Xuanyi is in Shuqing?”

“Yes. A message came from Shuqing. The Tower Master said the Second Protector has not yet returned from his mission, and at present only you can kill him,” Jiang Ying replied truthfully.

“Understood.”

The youth’s expression remained indifferent. “Before reaching Shuqing, don’t follow me too closely.”

“Yes.”

Jiang Ying lowered his head in acknowledgment. Yet the wind howled, and he heard no further movement. He suddenly raised his head — before his eyes stretched only a vast expanse of snowfield, goose-feather snowflakes drifting down lightly one by one. Within this flawless whiteness, at some unknown moment, the black-clad youth had already vanished without a trace.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

After leaving the inn, Shang Rong’s sole thought was to leave the town first. She had arrived in haste, and when Zhezhu brought her to the inn, she had not taken a careful look around. Now, wearing a sallow, weathered mask, she dared not rashly ask strangers for directions, afraid of revealing a voice that did not match this “face.”

She could only rely on vague memories, slipping through several alleys, walking back and forth along a few streets, before finally finding the direction of the town entrance. People came and went there, and an old man was sweeping snow with a broom, the sound of it scraping the ground coming in steady bursts.

Shang Rong panted for breath. The wind lifted the hem of her mud-specked skirt. She took a few steps forward but suddenly stopped. She clearly felt something strange about the thin mask on her face — the areas around her cheeks seemed to have lost their adhesion in several places. When she raised a hand to touch it, she felt small bulges where the mask had puffed up slightly.

At the same time, she heard synchronized footsteps.

The crisp sound of armor colliding made her especially alert. Touching her face, she looked up and saw a squad of soldiers approaching in her direction not far away.

Two men rode at the front. One of them, a young man dressed in ordinary clothes, had sharp, refined features. The moment Shang Rong saw his face clearly, she felt the blood throughout her body nearly freeze.

Panic-stricken, she turned and ran at once.

Suddenly, a hand seized her wrist with precision. As Shang Rong hurriedly lifted her head, she had already been dragged by this person from the bustling street into a narrow, deep alley.

The young man on horseback surveyed the crowd, his expression always steady and stern. Beside him, a broad-built man clad in armor looked weary. “Thousand-Household He, Yuling Town is so close to Nanzhou City — those people likely would not stay here.”

Holding the reins, the young man rode forward. “It concerns the princess. We cannot be careless.”

The townspeople, seeing the troops, stepped aside to both sides of the road on their own. Amid the surging noise of voices, the sound of hooves drew nearer, and no one noticed the damp, dim depths of the narrow alley.

“Zhezhu?”

In the shadowed corner of the alley, blocked on both sides by tall eaves where the light was dim, Shang Rong leaned against a blue-brick wall and looked up at the pale-faced, undisguised youth before her.

“I forgot to remind you — if this thing touches water, it will come off very quickly.”

His eyes curved slightly, and the tiny mole along his soft under-eye fullness became all the more vivid and attractive. “So next time you stick it back on, you’ll have to endure it — no crying.”

The lively sounds of the street were still very near her, and the sound of hooves was growing clearer. When his fingers lightly touched the hair at her temples, Shang Rong’s eyelashes trembled faintly. She instinctively shrank back, but her back pressed against the brick wall — she had nowhere to retreat.

In the instant she held her breath, he had already easily pinched the edge of the mask and removed it. The youth straightened, casually turning his face to glance toward the alley entrance.

The young man on horseback did not let his gaze wander and hurried past.

Zhezhu turned back and suddenly asked her, “Are you a fugitive?”

But Shang Rong only stared at him, pressing her lips together in silence.

“If you really are a fugitive, it doesn’t matter,” the mask could no longer be used. Zhezhu casually stuffed it into a crack in the bricks behind her. Meeting her wary gaze again, he let out a soft scoff. “I don’t lack that little bit of bounty on your head.”

Shang Rong still did not speak, but in her heart she was thinking — if he truly did not lack money, then why had he used her golden butterfly to buy that small courtyard in the mountains?

Yet it was as though he had seen through what she was thinking. Almost at the same moment, he took something out from his sleeve, and Shang Rong froze.

The youth’s knuckles were pale and slender. The golden butterfly hairpin trembled in his hand as though about to take flight. In the instant of Shang Rong’s distraction, his careless gaze fell upon her messy hair bun, roughly wrapped in cloth. Then he lifted his hand and pinned the golden butterfly into her hair. “Now tell me — is it, or is it not?”

Shang Rong came back to herself. She met his calm eyes.

Her fingers slowly curled inward. Outside the alley, the sounds of soldiers on the street had disappeared. She suddenly lowered her gaze. After a moment, she said softly, “It is.”

At this, the curve of Zhezhu’s eyes deepened.

Shang Rong did not lift her head, but she heard him say, “Do you want me to help you get rid of their pursuit?”

At that moment, she looked at him.

Even though she had not yet said anything, the youth seemed already to have guessed the stirrings within her heart. His refined features were clean and pure, his voice faint and light:

“Then come play with me.”