Chapter Eleven: The Grove

Though the distance of a little more than three hundred paces seemed short, given Yang Lian’s physical condition and the fact that he was carrying a woman weighing seventy or eighty pounds, it was a struggle. After only fifty steps, he was already gasping for breath, sweat streaming down his forehead in large drops.

Princess Huairou was unexpectedly moved; it reminded her of her aunt, who had astonished her by sacrificing herself for her husband years ago. She gently raised her hand and wiped the sweat from Yang Lian’s chin. The man's beard was short and rough, pricking her palm, but she did not let go, stubbornly cleaning him. A thought suddenly arose in her heart—if this man who shared her uncle’s name really was him, wouldn’t that be wonderful? Her aunt had loved her dearly.

Yang Lian’s breathing grew more rapid, and he felt he could hardly go on; his pace slowed. Behind them, the two villains, the eldest and the second, chased with murderous rage. They were truly furious—not only had their prize slipped away, but their third brother had been wounded, stabbed in the back with a dagger that pierced his lung. Though not fatal, once healed, it was doubtful he’d ever work again.

The two had guessed the carriage would be sent away along the official road, so they searched accordingly. Sure enough, after running for ten miles, they spotted the carriage. Overjoyed, they chased it, shouting, causing it to crash. The man had no choice but to carry the girl and flee on foot.

Coldly smiling, they resolved that, after recapturing the girl, they would slowly kill the rescuer to vent their wrath. Still, there was a distance to cover. Having run another dozen miles, their strength was nearly spent; they needed a little more time.

Time flew by; the gap between pursuer and pursued narrowed to just thirty paces. Yang Lian reached the dense forest, gritting his teeth and dashing into its depths. Sunlight dappled the forest floor, leaves rustled in the wind.

Yang Lian hurried into the woods, directionless, plunging deeper. He could not worry about wild beasts; the two men behind him were as fierce as any animal, perhaps even more terrifying. After a few steps, he noticed the thick carpet of leaves, evidence that humans rarely ventured here. This, he hoped, would aid his escape.

The two pursuers seemed not to have followed yet, but Yang Lian remained vigilant. Driven by sheer willpower, he moved toward the patches of sunlight. He had no intention of dying at the hands of two assassins so soon after arriving in this era. As for why he had impulsively rescued this young lady, he no longer bothered to ponder.

Thinking of her, Yang Lian realized the girl in his arms had become much quieter. He looked down; she was curled up like a kitten, her head resting on his broad chest, eyes wide as she gazed at him. Her cheeks were flushed. When Yang Lian lowered his head, she startled and quickly looked away.

Suddenly she seemed to remember something and struggled, saying, “Put me down.”

Yang Lian inhaled her scent, feeling somewhat embarrassed. Though he was not inexperienced, he’d just met this girl, and he was not a man to act rashly. He laughed lightly and set her down.

Princess Huairou’s knees were raw and bloody; she limped, supported by Yang Lian. “Though propriety forbids contact between men and women, the situation is urgent. Please don’t take offense,” he said. Even as he spoke, it sounded strange to him—perhaps the memories of this era were blending with his own?

Princess Huairou rolled her eyes, thinking: Why didn’t you consider propriety when you struck me earlier? Now you act the gentleman. She was about to retort when pain shot through her knee, and she inhaled sharply.

Yang Lian saw her discomfort and helped her sit. “Rest a while,” he said. He, too, was exhausted; any more running would be the end of him. In the forest, the pursuers would not easily find them, so a brief respite would help them recover.

Princess Huairou sat, her knee a mess of torn flesh, a flap of skin lifted, blood streaming. She was at a loss, only able to grit her teeth and bear the pain.

Yang Lian glanced around and spotted a wild herb known as “earth three-seven.” In the countryside, it was used to stop bleeding and reduce bruising. He picked some and chewed it.

Princess Huairou was stunned. Was this man a savage? He picked weeds by the roadside and ate them—was he so hungry? But Yang Lian chewed for a while, then spat the pulp into his palm, tore a strip from his clothing, and approached her.

“Don’t move,” Yang Lian said.

Before she could protest, Yang Lian pressed the strange mixture onto her knee.

“It will hurt a bit, but it’s nothing. If you don’t want a dark scar, best keep still,” Yang Lian warned her.

“Oh.” Princess Huairou, startled, forgot to resist, letting him apply the herb and wrap her knee. Despite its sticky, dirty appearance, it brought a cool feeling and eased her pain.

“Do you think we can escape?” Princess Huairou’s voice trembled, uncertain if from fear or pain, or perhaps both.

“Trust me—we will escape,” Yang Lian replied, scanning the surroundings. Suddenly he smiled, stepping forward and poking at the ground with a stick.

“Yes, we will escape. If we return, I’ll have my father send troops to conquer Wu-Yue and slaughter them all,” Princess Huairou vowed, her experience today having been truly terrifying.

Yang Lian smiled. This was the Princess Li Yushuang he remembered—fearless, never backing down, always ready to pay back any slight, except from him.

Princess Huairou’s fists clenched, her once delicate hands now dirty. Seeing her uncertainty, Yang Lian reassured her, “Princess, rest assured. It’s midday now. Even if your guards are worthless, they’ll have noticed you’re missing. Henglin Town is a major stronghold in Changzhou; surely there are soldiers. Once they get word, they’ll search along the road.”

“But how will they know where I am?” Princess Huairou asked. Yang Lian’s analysis made sense, but she still worried.

“Su and Chang prefectures are now the focus of Tang and Wu-Yue,” Yang Lian explained. Seeing her confusion at the word “focus,” he cleared his throat and continued, “I mean, the two nations are gathering troops here, likely preparing for war. The Henglin garrison commander will suspect—if you disappear, it’s almost certain Wu-Yue is involved. He’ll immediately search the official road between Su and Chang.”

Princess Huairou nodded, unconsciously beginning to trust Yang Lian. “But won’t they think I just ran off as usual?” She worried, knowing her reputation for mischief and arrogance was well known.

Yang Lian laughed. “Though the Yu Lai Inn is small, it has guards. Besides, your attendants and maids are there. You’re not a general who can sneak through an army; you couldn’t disappear without a trace.”

Princess Huairou relaxed, noticing Yang Lian’s tired expression, and asked, “Are you exhausted?”

“No matter. A little rest and I’ll be full of energy again,” Yang Lian laughed, preparing to sit cross-legged and practice his breathing exercises.

“Ha! After all that searching, you turn up right here without any effort!” A voice rang out. Yang Lian turned; it was the second villain of the trio.

The second brother looked triumphant. Yang Lian had vanished into the dense woods, so he and the eldest had split up, and he’d found them first. He squinted at Yang Lian, then at the princess. “You’re a lucky fellow. That girl’s skin is soft, her beauty unmatched. Carrying her must feel wonderful.”

“You!” Princess Huairou was furious, trying to stand, but pain forced her to glare at the man instead.

Yang Lian gripped his stick, shouting, “The nations may be at war, but she’s just a weak girl. Why seize her?”

“Haha, do you really not understand who she is?” The man laughed, stepping forward.

Yang Lian grew tense, retreating, his foot dragging—clearly injured from the carriage’s crash. The second brother noticed and felt even more confident; he believed he could take Yang Lian without even using his blade.

Yang Lian continued to back away, stopping beside Princess Huairou. “Don’t come any closer, or you’ll regret it,” he warned.

To the second brother, Yang Lian’s trembling voice was hardly threatening—a man in name only. He laughed, striding forward. Suddenly, from the dry leaves, something shot out, clamping down hard on his leg. A stab of pain made him cry out.

Yang Lian had been waiting for this moment. Quickly, he drew his dagger and lunged at the man.

Seeing Yang Lian coming, the second brother pulled out his short sword. “You dare!” he shouted, slashing fiercely.

But before he could strike, he stumbled, falling to the ground. His ankle cracked, the pain nearly causing him to faint. He bit his tongue, rallying himself to counterattack, but Yang Lian was already upon him, stabbing at his wrist.

The man cried out, his sword dropping. Yang Lian reacted swiftly, snatching it before it hit the ground and thrusting it at the man’s chest.

“Ah!” Though the second brother had been a hero, Yang Lian caught him off guard.

Yang Lian didn’t let him speak; he slashed, severing the man’s throat. Not satisfied, he plunged the blade into his chest, twisting it. The man convulsed, then lay still.

Princess Huairou stared, dumbfounded. This stranger, so familiar, was ruthless and decisive—killing a living man in mere moments. She suddenly realized her usual antics were nothing by comparison. She understood now: this was a man best not crossed.

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