Chapter Nine: Rescue

At the break of dawn, the Yu Lai Inn was thrown into utter chaos. A large crowd of bewildered townsfolk had gathered to watch and whisper among themselves—what grudge had the inn’s proprietor incurred to bring so many soldiers to his door?

The magistrate of Henglin Town in Changzhou was named Chen Keyan. At only twenty years of age, he had already assumed command of this crucial town, a testament not only to his military lineage but also to his own formidable capabilities. Without such ability, he would never have been entrusted with the weighty affairs of a border post.

Henglin, as the main thoroughfare linking Suzhou and Changzhou, was always bustling, yet Chen Keyan seldom made an appearance. Now, seeing him arrive so suddenly, the townspeople could not help but speculate—what grave matter had come to pass?

Chen Keyan stood inside the Yu Lai Inn, his face grave and tense. The saber at his waist seemed ready to be drawn at any moment, to cut down the man before him. Yet he knew all too well that even if he killed the innkeeper, it would be of no avail.

Beside Chen Keyan stood a lean, pale man, beardless and with a chilling, murderous gleam in his eye.

“Magistrate Chen, the Princess Huairou has vanished from the Yu Lai Inn. Even if the Emperor does not learn of this, as soon as Prince Qi hears, he will not spare you,” the thin man said sharply, his voice cold and cutting enough to chill the blood.

Chen Keyan pressed a hand to his brow, truly at a loss. As magistrate of Henglin, he could never have imagined that, amid the brewing conflict between Suzhou and Changzhou, Prince Qi’s beloved daughter—also a favorite of the Emperor—would slip away from Jinling in secret and arrive here, of all places.

Her arrival was not the issue; the trouble was that she had checked into the inn the previous day and disappeared in the night. Her maids had been drugged insensate, the guards outside knew nothing, and Chen Keyan could not, in any way, believe the inn was not haunted by ghosts.

The elderly proprietor of Yu Lai Inn, Wang Qu, was about fifty, having run the establishment for many years, alongside a few other shops, making him the wealthiest man in Henglin. He and Chen Keyan had dealings—Wang Qu often sent tributes. But when he learned that the young lady who had checked in and scolded the serving girl was none other than the princess herself, he knew disaster had struck.

Yet he was not resigned. Prostrating himself, he wept, “Magistrate Chen, I have always abided by the law. I would never dare commit any wrongdoing! Had I known the Princess would grace my humble inn, I would have welcomed her with utmost respect, how could I possibly have neglected her?”

“Magistrate Chen, I have ever honored you with gifts; I beg you to see through to the truth and uphold justice for me!” Terrified, the old innkeeper confessed everything. Though famed as the wealthiest in town, how could he risk crossing Princess Huairou? With Prince Qi’s beloved daughter missing from his inn, even if he was not the mastermind, he could not escape implication.

Chen Keyan blanched, casting a sidelong glance at the eunuch beside him. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest—this man was a steward of the Prince Qi’s household. If word of his own bribery reached the wrong ears, he would be utterly ruined.

The eunuch paid him no heed, his gaze downcast, his piercing voice echoing, “We only wish to know—where has Princess Huairou gone?”

Indeed, where had she gone? The maidservants, found unconscious, awoke confused and clueless, earning them a ferocious scolding from the eunuch. The guards outside spoke in vague and uncertain terms, insisting nothing had stirred in the princess’s room through the night. How could it be that, with dawn, she was simply gone?

Everyone was baffled, save two figures standing at a distance. The veiled woman watched in silence, her heart filled with disappointment toward Yang Lian. No—disappointment was not the word; she had never placed hope in Yang Lian, so from whence could disappointment arise? What troubled her was that the kingdom her father had helped Yang Xingmi claim for Southern Wu was now so carelessly squandered by his descendants—it was a bitter waste.

She felt a trace of loathing for Southern Tang: loathing for Li Bian’s ruthlessness, his ingratitude, and for a court filled with corruption, where the Emperor trusted only treacherous ministers like Feng Yansi and Feng Yanlu. How much longer could such a regime endure?

She watched coldly as the Yu Lai Inn was sealed, no one permitted to leave. She could only observe, biding her time.

Just then, a soldier rushed to Chen Keyan’s side, reporting, “General, after our search, we have accounted for almost everyone in the inn—save one named Yang Lian, whose whereabouts are unknown.”

“Yang Lian?!”

Those two words, simple as they were, struck the veiled woman, Chen Keyan, and the eunuch each with a different degree of shock.

The veiled woman murmured, “He did not return last night—where could he have gone?” Raising her eyes to the sky, she was full of doubt.

Chen Keyan’s face changed slightly. Though he had been but a child, the name Yang Lian was all too familiar—the deposed crown prince of the former dynasty. Could it truly be him? Or was it merely a coincidence of names? It seemed too much to be chance.

The eunuch, however, was visibly agitated, stepping forward to demand, “Who did you say is missing?”

“Reporting, sir, Yang Lian,” answered the young soldier, not yet aware of the weight the name carried, only surprised by the eunuch’s reaction.

“Yang Lian—Yang Lian!” The eunuch staggered back a step, muttering, “Can it truly be his vengeful spirit, come to claim lives?”

“No, impossible. Search! Search at once! Dig the earth to its depths if necessary, but find Princess Huairou!” the eunuch shrieked.

“Hurry, search everywhere!” Chen Keyan commanded, striding from the inn, ordering soldiers to guard the doors and let no one enter or leave, while sending men to Changzhou with news of the incident. He then personally led the search party.

On the road from Changzhou to Suzhou, a carriage came to a sudden stop. Inside, a weeping young woman lifted her tear-stained face, overwhelmed with helplessness.

“What’s the matter, Third Brother?” asked the eldest.

“Big Brother, there’s a little roadside stall—they’re selling steamed buns and wontons,” replied the third.

“Now that you mention it, I’m feeling hungry myself,” said the second, glancing at the eldest.

The eldest nodded and stepped down from the carriage. “Still three hours to Suzhou—it wouldn’t hurt to eat something. Second Brother, come with me. Third Brother, watch the carriage; we’ll be right back.”

“Don’t worry, Big Brother!” Third Brother laughed.

Second Brother also slipped out, and the two made their way to the bustling stall, their professional instincts keeping them wary.

Third Brother squinted after them as they walked away, then grinned, dropping the reins and slipping into the carriage. “Little lady, your young master is here to show you some affection.”

Princess Huairou shrank back. Of the three, this Third Brother was the worst—always eyeing her with that lewd look, a most dangerous character.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Third Brother laughed, reaching out his broad, rough hand for her. Though she seemed fierce, the princess was a paper tiger; faced with this, she cowered in terror.

His coarse, calloused fingers brushed her cheek—her soft, flawless skin only making his smile grow wider as he fondled her face, savoring the feeling.

Princess Huairou tried repeatedly to push him away, only to find her strength pitifully meager. The burly man was as immovable as a mountain; no matter how she struggled, it was useless. She was like a lamb cornered by wolves, powerless to resist.

“So tender, so smooth—even better than the girls of Suzhou!” Third Brother laughed, reaching with his other hand to pull her into his arms, relishing the sensation.

“Let go! Get away from me!” Princess Huairou struggled, but her resistance only stoked his desire. With a sneer, he grabbed her dress and, with a rip, tore it apart.

Her delicate, gleaming calves were exposed. She curled up like a hedgehog, but the sight only further inflamed Third Brother. Seizing the torn hem, he was about to press his advantage when the carriage rocked—a figure slipped up from beneath, dagger in hand, lunging straight for Third Brother’s throat.

Though an assassin, Third Brother’s reflexes were swift. Sensing danger, he rolled away, the rocking carriage sparing him. But his attacker pursued relentlessly, dagger flashing in the dim light, determined to take his life.

In a flurry, Third Brother was thrown into disarray, falling back. In the melee, his arm was slashed, blood pouring down. Daring not to fight on, he knew that, for all his lust, he needed to survive to enjoy his spoils. He leapt from the carriage in a panic.

The attacker, quick and unyielding, hurled the dagger as Third Brother leapt—he cried out in pain as it struck him square in the back.

“Kill him!” Princess Huairou, her face streaked with tears, urged her rescuer on.

The stranger glanced at her but said nothing, instead sitting down to seize the reins. With a sharp command, the horses leapt forward. The carriage jolted into motion, gathering speed, and the frightened princess clung to the window frame. After a while, the ride smoothed out; she exhaled in relief, patting her chest. She had come so close to disaster—her reputation nearly ruined.

Yet the memory of the black-clad stranger still rankled. Unable to restrain herself, she asked, “Hey, why did you let him escape just now?”

The stranger ignored her, intent on guiding the carriage. She called out a few times, growing angrier at his silence. At last, she strode to his side and shouted, “Are you deaf? I’m speaking to you! How dare you ignore me? Whose servant are you, to be so insolent?”

He suddenly turned, startling her into a step back. “So it’s you?”

“Oh, so you recognize me?” she retorted.

“I saw you yesterday by the Grand Canal. I even sent someone to find you, but they didn’t succeed,” she said.

“You were looking for me? Why?” he asked.

“Because you stared at me so rudely!” she answered, but then realized something was off. Why should a mere servant dare question her? She was a princess, appointed by imperial decree! Straightening her back, she added, “Do I need to explain myself to you?”

He looked at her with a faint, mocking smile, his eyes full of ridicule. Following his gaze, the princess let out a shriek, crossed her arms over her chest, and turned away, her cheeks burning. Only then did she realize that, in her disheveled state, her fair skin had been completely bared to this man’s eyes—how detestable!