Chapter 6: Counterattack

“Household Head.”

The overlapping sounds of bows and salutations made Xie Ying’s hand tremble despite herself.
The arrow had not yet been released when it drooped downward.
She naturally heard the voice, but she did not think her elder brother would care about their little game.

She steadied her nerves and drew the bowstring again.

This time, the arrow whistled through the air and struck the fruit atop Yan Ling’s head squarely.
The force, however, was slightly lacking—the fruit tumbled to the ground with a roll, bursting open, its juice running down along Yan Ling’s temple.

A fresh fragrance bloomed in the air.
Qingtao cried out softly and hurriedly took out a handkerchief to wipe Yan Ling’s hairline.

The two sisters were not faring much better.
Xie Zhen was still not hit and, with a miserable expression, had to continue standing there as a target.

Yan Ling wheeled herself over to the opposite side.
Xie Ying calmly placed the fruit atop her own head.

With her elder brother watching from the side, she was certain this woman would not dare offend her.

Qingtao presented the arrows.
Yan Ling’s long fingers, pale and fine like carved mutton-fat jade, selected an arrowhead and set the bowstring.

The first arrow brushed past Xie Ying’s neck, leaving behind a thin line of blood.

The second arrow grazed her temple, frightening her out of her composure—she nearly thought her eye had been struck.

The third arrow pierced straight through the fruit and caught on her hair ornament.
The fruit burst apart, its juice spilling down into her carefully arranged high coiffure, leaving her utterly disheveled.

Yan Ling said lightly,
“My… my archery isn’t very good.
Young lady, please forgive me.”

As she spoke, she lowered her head, revealing a stretch of snow-white, luminous neck.
The wind lifted a corner of her veil, and the lush cinnabar mole by her earlobe appeared and vanished.

Didn’t he think she was overly competitive?

Then so be it.

In aristocratic circles, every game was steeped in struggles of family, status, and rank.
Who won, who lost, who held back—everyone understood it without words.

Xie Ying’s face turned pale with disbelief.
Her maidservants rushed forward to clean her up.
She turned to Xie Chongqing, eyes brimming with grievance.
“Elder Brother…”

No one present dared to breathe loudly.
The entire scene fell silent as all watched.

Sympathetic gazes drifted toward Yan Ling.

Yet Xie Chongqing’s expression remained cold and detached.
His refined, elegant face betrayed not a hint of emotion as he simply turned around and left.

The crowd exchanged looks, unable to fathom the household head’s thoughts.

Yan Ling set down the bow and said to Qingtao,
“Let’s go.”

Xie Ying stood there in a daze, unable to believe her brother had just walked away like that, momentarily forgetting to pick a fight with Yan Ling.

Qingtao nodded and pushed the wheelchair away.
After they had gone some distance, light and hurried footsteps sounded behind them.

“Madam Yan.”

Yan Ling turned back to find Fan Yuning chasing after her.
“Lady Fan.”

Fan Yuning stopped before her.
Her face showed clear disapproval, though her tone remained gentle.
“What you did just now was improper.
You should find some time to apologize to Lady Xie.”

Yan Ling replied calmly,
“My legs are inconvenient, and my archery poor—neither of which I can control.
Besides, wasn’t it Lady Xie who first asked me to place the fruit on my head?”

She declined Fan Yuning’s admonition with polite restraint.

“Let’s go,” Yan Ling said.

At her command, Qingtao pushed her away.

Fan Yuning watched her retreating figure, momentarily at a loss for words.
Her well-meaning advice had been rebuffed, leaving her somewhat embarrassed.

On the way back, Qingtao hesitated before speaking.
“The Fourth Miss is very competitive by nature.
Having her lose face like this, she surely won’t let it go easily.
Offending her brings you no benefit, madam. Perhaps—”

“There’s no need to bring this up again.
I said I won’t go, and that’s final.”

Qingtao immediately fell silent.
She knew Madam Yan was someone close to the household head, but relying on his favor so brazenly was truly excessive.

When Yan Ling returned to her room, Qingtao brought water to help her wash and change.
Yan Ling removed her hairpins, and her satin-like dark hair spilled down, sticky with fruit juice.

When Xie Chongqing reached the doorway, this was the sight that met his eyes—
Yan Ling seated before a bronze mirror, wringing out her hair.
The lingering scent of fruit still floated faintly in the room.

“Your Highness.”

After a casual bow, he entered without waiting for her response.

Yan Ling did not rise, allowing Qingtao to continue tending her hair.

“Has Shaoshi come to question me?” she asked.

“What crime could Your Highness possibly have?” he replied evenly, standing behind her.

Yan Ling turned around.
Her dark hair swayed like a soft curtain, carrying that faint fragrance with it as it moved.

Xie Chongqing noticed the wound on her ear, already scabbed over.
He took out a small jar of medicine and handed it to her.

Yan Ling did not take it, not believing he could be so kind.
“The injury was left by Fourth Lady Xie.
Then I’ll trouble Shaoshi to apply the medicine himself.”

She pushed her advantage.

Her hair was gathered behind her head, while a few strands slipped loose as she tilted slightly.
Her profile was exquisite, her lashes trembling softly.
Even he, who paid little heed to women, had to admit that this Highness possessed a truly transcendent beauty.

Xie Chongqing avoided her gaze.
He knelt before her, opened the jar, dipped his fingertip into the ointment, and gently applied it to her small ear.

“That’s enough.”

He withdrew his hand and put some distance between them.

The ointment was cool.
The burning pain in her ear eased considerably.

Yan Ling touched her earlobe and thought:
He probably believed again that she was vindictive and unscrupulous.

For several days, the Twelfth Prince had been missing.
Rumors that he had already met a violent death spread like wildfire through the traveling palace and naturally reached Emperor Yonghe’s ears.

Yan Hong knelt before Yan Ying Hall.
Beside him lay several men bound hand and foot, dressed in black.
Emperor Yonghe’s eyes were dark with fury, and his roar echoed through the hall.

“Where have you taken my Twelfth?”

Yan Hong bowed deeply to the ground.
“Father Emperor, after harsh interrogation, these assassins confessed that the Twelfth… fell from a cliff and may have…”

He did not finish.
A flash of coldness passed through his lowered eyes.

Emperor Yonghe froze.
His body staggered as he threw his head back and spat a mouthful of blood, then collapsed onto the couch, unconscious.

Yan Hong abruptly raised his head and shouted,
“Imperial physicians!”

Yan Ying Hall descended into chaos.
Physicians rushed to save the emperor.
The news spread outward—just as Xie Chongqing entered the palace.

“Your Highness, Prince Hui.”

Xie Chongqing bowed hastily upon hearing the news, his face cold and grave.

“Are these truly the assassins who attempted to kill the Twelfth Prince that day?”

A trace of distortion and guilt flashed across Yan Hong’s brows before he quickly suppressed it.
“Yes.”

“Alive, one must see the person.
Dead, one must see the body,” Xie Chongqing said coldly.
“Why does Your Highness fabricate uncertainty regarding the Twelfth Prince’s fate?”

Though displeased by the questioning, Prince Hui restrained himself.
“What does Shaoshi mean by this?
Would I deliberately harm my own imperial father?
The 羽林 Guards and Tiger Guards have searched for days.
If he were alive, he would have been found long ago.”

“Even if he were dead, a body must be seen,” Xie Chongqing pressed.
“If the Twelfth Prince were to return someday, this would be deceiving the emperor.”

He looked straight into Yan Hong’s eyes.
The pressure made Yan Hong falter for an instant.

“He will not return,” Yan Hong said with certainty.

“So confident?” Xie Chongqing asked.

Yan Hong softened his tone and lowered his voice.
“Shaoshi will help me, won’t you?
That night Father Emperor was gravely ill, he summoned only the Twelfth.
I suspect the edict is in his hands.
As long as he doesn’t return—and Father Emperor…”

He left the rest unsaid, but the meaning was clear.

Xie Chongqing replied calmly,
“What Your Highness has thought of—do you think the Yu clan and Prince Ji would not think of the same?”

“Once my uncle returns, Prince Ji and the Yu clan will be nothing to fear.”

Xie Chongqing’s expression remained unreadable.
Yet he was deeply dissatisfied that Yan Hong had acted first without consulting him.

And worse still, it disrupted his plan to send Yan Ling back to the palace.

Near Qixia Mountain, Gongsun Zhi gathered several children and taught them the folk song Yan Ling had given him.
The children found it catchy and fun, and naturally it spread from one to ten, ten to a hundred.

He did not stay near the mountain at all times.
Instead, he assigned several guards to take turns keeping watch and report to him at the first sign of news.

“Why are there so many soldiers today?”
Gongsun Zhi squatted behind a house and asked an old woman basking in the sun nearby.

“Ahead lies the imperial traveling palace,” the old woman replied.
“Lately, soldiers have been scattered everywhere, searching for someone.
Perhaps they couldn’t find him, so they’re withdrawing.”

Gongsun Zhi scratched his head and did not probe further into imperial secrets.

At dusk, seeing that the time was about right, he brushed off his robes and rose to leave.
Lost in thought, he failed to notice someone approaching and collided with him, falling to the ground.

Fu Li did not even glance at him and walked straight past.

“Hey—hey, what’s wrong with you—”
Gongsun Zhi fumed, but the man did not turn back.

“Forget it, forget it.”

Gongsun Zhi shrank his neck instinctively.
That man looked like someone with a terrible temper.
He quickly lowered his head and left.

Fu Li returned to Zhangyuan Hall still shrouded in oppressive gloom.
Yan Yi sat there utterly dispirited, his hair crown askew, reeking of alcohol.
Hanlu was crying uncontrollably, tears soaking her face.

A deep crease formed between Fu Li’s brows.

Yan Yi hiccupped, saw Fu Li, choked a few times, then suddenly wailed,
“Fu Li, Ah Ling, he—”

The blade in Fu Li’s hand fell to the floor with a heavy clang.

Hanlu wiped her tears and recounted what had happened that day through her sobs.

After hearing it all, Fu Li calmly picked up his blade.
“Prince Hui and His Highness have always been at odds.
Who knows whether this is nothing but nonsense?
Until I see His Highness with my own eyes, I will not stop searching.”

With that, he turned and left again.

The traveling palace was in utter chaos, yet news was tightly sealed.
Jiankang City—and even the Xie residence—remained deceptively calm.

Gongsun Zhi had not appeared for the past two days.
Yan Ling guessed he had failed, but that was all right.
Tomorrow, her imperial father would return to the palace—and she could go back as well.

Thinking of this, her mood brightened considerably.

“Madam seems very happy today,” Qingtao asked softly.

“Yes,” Yan Ling admitted without hiding it.
“Has Shao—Xie Chongqing said when he’ll return?”

Qingtao shook her head.
“He has not.”

Yan Ling hummed softly.

“Madam Yan.”

Fan Yuning came to the waterside pavilion.
After a slight nod, she familiarly knelt beside Yan Ling.

“At the turn from autumn to winter, this Fuqu Garden looks best when it snows,” she said.
“Curtains would be hung here, braziers lit, fox-fur mats spread out—tea brewed around the fire.”

Yan Ling merely smiled at her words.

“The hierarchy in this residence is strict,” Fan Yuning continued earnestly.
“It would be best if Madam Yan did not offend the Fourth Miss and the others.”

Yan Ling seemed unwilling even to feign patience.
She set her cup down with measured force.
“Lady Fan is exceedingly kind.
But the household head said I should simply follow my own wishes.”

Fan Yuning’s expression stiffened.
“Then please forgive Yuning for speaking out of turn.”

That evening, Yan Ling did not return to her own courtyard.
Instead, she waited in Xie Chongqing’s study, repeatedly glancing toward the door.

“Madam, are you waiting for the household head?” Qingtao asked.

“Yes. When does he usually return?”

“This servant does not know.
Only Lord Yuance knows the household head’s whereabouts.”

Yan Ling could only suppress her impatience.
Even if he did not return tonight, he would surely be back tomorrow.
Perhaps the entourage was preparing for the return to the palace, leaving him too busy to spare time.

Even so, Yan Ling did not leave.
As she waited, she inadvertently fell asleep, slumped over the desk.

At midnight, Xie Chongqing returned to the residence cloaked in frost.
A crystalline sheen dusted his cloak.
From afar, he noticed a light still burning in his study and frowned in puzzlement.
Only when he reached the door did he see the figure sleeping sideways against the desk.

The young girl was curled up, delicate nose and cherry lips soft in repose.
A loose strand of hair fell across her brow.
She slept deeply and peacefully.

Xie Chongqing rapped his fingers lightly on the desk.

Yan Ling jolted awake.
She lifted her head with bleary eyes, a trace of vulnerability showing on her flushed cheeks.