Chasing Jade (Zhu Yu)

The night was deep, and the north wind rattled the dilapidated window shutters with a creaking sound.

Such weather always made one yearn to burrow under the covers.

Especially when those covers had already been warmed by someone else, radiating an enticing heat.

Fan Changyu tightened her arms slightly, leaning against the bedpost with her eyes closed for a brief rest, but her ears remained alert to the movements downstairs.

Once Aunt Zhao and Zhao Mu Jiang had gone to bed, she hurried home to fetch the land deed and then carried a quilt over to make a bed on the floor.

Since Fan Da’s incident the day before, she had barely slept at all. Her body was exhausted, but her mind remained tense, not daring to relax for even a moment.

The breathing of the person beside her was always shallow. Whether it was because he had eaten tangerine peel candy, Fan Changyu could faintly catch a subtle citrus fragrance emanating from him.

Unconsciously, she recalled the moment in the pine forest when he had gripped her hand, guiding her through a move, his breath brushing against her ear as he spoke.

Her ears inexplicably grew warm, though thankfully, the darkness concealed it.

Just as Fan Changyu was about to rub her ears, the person beside her suddenly sat up without a sound. Before she could react, a slender finger, cool to the touch, pressed against her lips. His long hair cascaded down, brushing the back of her hand, sending a faint shiver of tingling coldness through her.

He was so close that the scent of tangerine peel grew even stronger.

Fan Changyu startled at first, but upon hearing the light, cat-like footsteps on the roof tiles, her ears instantly pricked up.

Xie Zheng, seeing her reaction, withdrew his index finger from her lips without a word.

The soft, warm touch of her lips lingered on his fingertip—tender, delicate, like a dewy petal at dawn.

He frowned slightly, rubbing the tingling skin of his fingertip forcefully, suppressing the strange sensation in his chest.

The footsteps on the roof were light and chaotic, suggesting more than one person. Moments later, some stopped not far away—likely above the Fan Family’s roof.

Others continued forward, halting above the Zhao Family’s roof. Then came the faint rustling of tiles being shifted, followed by a slender bamboo tube sliding through a gap, releasing a wisp of bluish smoke.

Covering their mouths and noses with their collars, the two exchanged a glance in the dim light filtering through the window.

The old window creaked as a shadowy figure slipped inside without a sound.

Fan Changyu and Xie Zheng stood on either side of the bed curtain, silently gesturing about how to silently eliminate the intruder once they approached the bed. But when seven or eight more figures slipped in through the window one after another, all plans went out the window.

The room was small, and the intruders would soon discover them.

Fan Changyu pressed her lips tightly together, discreetly drawing the boning knife she kept hidden on her person.

A black-clad figure swung his blade viciously toward the bed, but the dull resistance as it struck the bedding made his expression change instantly. "It's a trap!"

In the next moment, a chill pierced his abdomen as a figure darted out from behind the bed curtain, lunging headfirst toward the window with a loud crash.

Another black-clad figure, still sliding down a rope from the roof and not yet inside, was sent flying by the sudden impact, serving as a human cushion as they both crashed into the courtyard, cracking several of the stone tiles beneath them.

The figure quickly scrambled up—revealing herself to be a woman.Seizing the moment when the black-clad man on the ground was dazed from the fall, she swung a mighty slap at him. The man was knocked unconscious instantly, and the woman quickly snatched his sword before sprinting out of the courtyard.

All of this happened in the blink of an eye. The group of black-clad men inside the room were momentarily stunned before shouting in alarm, "After her!"

Like dumplings dropping into a pot, they leaped out the window in pursuit.

Xie Zheng, hiding on the other side of the bed curtains, hadn’t expected Fan Changyu to take such a risk alone. But he soon realized she had deliberately drawn the attackers away to protect him, the elderly couple downstairs, and her younger sister. His heart grew heavy at the thought.

As the last few black-clad men prepared to jump out the window, he flicked a crystal-clear piece of tangerine peel candy from his fingertips.

The man who had just leaped out was struck in the back of the knee, throwing him off balance midair and sending him crashing to the ground.

The remaining men, startled by the commotion behind them, finally realized there was still someone else in the room. They were among the elite of the Martial Assassins, yet they had failed to detect his presence for so long. Just how formidable must his concealment skills be?

Instantly on guard, they turned and slashed at him with their blades.

A few more pieces of tangerine peel candy shot from Xie Zheng’s fingers, striking the pressure points on their elbows, knees, and waists, slowing their movements for just a breath—enough time for him to seize a blade and strike.

After dispatching two of them, he pressed the stolen sword against the neck of the injured assassin, who clutched his bleeding side.

The weapon that had sliced his waist was sharp and slender—unlike a dagger—but its exact nature remained unclear. Now with a bloodied blade at his throat, the man dared not move.

Xie Zheng was about to knock him out to keep him alive for questioning and to aid Changyu outside when suddenly, the street beyond the alley erupted in blazing torchlight. The thunder of hooves shattered the night’s silence, while the clatter of armor and marching footsteps wove a tightening net. The whistling of arrows sent chills down the spine.

The black-clad men chasing Fan Changyu were riddled with arrows, their bodies turned into sieves.

Xie Zheng frowned slightly, suspicion gnawing at him.

Qingping County had no stationed troops—how had these soldiers arrived so swiftly in this small town?

Seeing that Changyu was now safe, he abandoned the thought of pursuit. Instead, he forced his captive’s jaw open with a grip under his chin, making him spit out the poison sac hidden between his teeth. Pressing the blade harder, Xie Zheng demanded coldly, "What did Wei Yan send you to retrieve?"

The assassin, recognizing his familiarity with the Wei family’s Martial Assassins and their methods, studied his voice uncertainly. "Marquis?"

The blade pressed deeper. The torchlight streaming through the shattered window reflected off the steel, casting a sharp arc of light across Xie Zheng’s face. His slightly downturned lips were icy with impatience. "Answer."

A cold wind carrying snowflakes swept in, dusting the assassin’s neck—but far colder than the snow was the blade already nicking his skin.

Fear and pressure surged like a tide. The man swallowed hard, pleading, "The Marquis knows the Prime Minister’s methods… Why torment this lowly one—"

The next instant, the blade plunged into the wound on his waist. The assassin let out a muffled scream of agony, curling into himself.Xie Zheng lowered his gaze, his pale fingers covered in dark scabs twisting the knife handle, almost wrenching a chunk of flesh from the man's abdomen. His tone was indifferent and cold: "The spies in the military have tougher mouths than yours. Zhang Su, the Vice Minister of Justice, once witnessed an interrogation in the army camp. He nearly vomited his bile afterward and fell seriously ill upon returning. Would you like to try the military's methods of punishment?"

Zhang Su, the Vice Minister of Justice, was notorious throughout the court for his brutal interrogation techniques. It was said that those who fell into his hands would either die or be skinned alive, earning him the nickname "Living King of Hell."

The black-clad man couldn't suppress his screams, his forehead drenched in cold sweat. All his senses seemed concentrated on the mangled flesh in his abdomen. Whether his soaked clothes were from blood or sweat, he no longer cared. He no longer sought survival—only a swift death. Exhausted, he gasped, "A letter... The Prime Minister sent us to find a letter..."

Xie Zheng's eyes narrowed slightly. "What letter?"

The man could only shake his head, collapsing to the ground as he pleaded, "I truly don't know..."

A sword flashed across his neck, and the black-clad man fell in a pool of blood.

A letter?

Xie Zheng frowned. What kind of letter in that woman's household could make Wei Yan so fearful?

He glanced out the window at the torch-lit street. The woman stood by the roadside, seemingly explaining the situation to the soldiers. The elderly couple, probably feeling safe now but still worried about Fan Changyu, had taken the child to the courtyard gate to watch.

The soldiers were dragging away the corpses of the black-clad men. A few who weren't completely dead quickly bit into their poison sacs, ending their own lives.

The commander on horseback shouted, "Find a live one to take back!"

Xie Zheng's gaze had initially swept past the man indifferently, but upon recognizing his face, his phoenix eyes narrowed.

Zheng Wenchang?

He was a favored general under He Jingyuan, the Governor of Jizhou—and He Jingyuan was a member of the Wei Faction.

Was tonight's incident a case of friendly fire, or had He Jingyuan also been sent by Wei Yan to intercept that letter, deliberately orchestrating this ambush?

Yet, judging by the black-clad men's actions, they clearly hadn't found what they were looking for. The timely arrival of the Jizhou soldiers was indeed suspicious...

Xie Zheng suddenly realized that this seemingly insignificant butcher's family in Lin'an Town might be hiding far more than he had imagined.

The commander on horseback was directing his subordinates to quickly remove all the black-clad men's corpses when he suddenly felt an icy gaze settle on him—like a wild wolf locking onto its prey in a snowy wasteland. His spine stiffened involuntarily.

Zheng Wenchang scanned his surroundings but found no trace of that chilling stare. Noticing the empty window of the Zhao family's attic, he asked, "Is there someone still upstairs?"

Earlier, Fan Changyu had jumped out of the window to lure out most of the black-clad men, intending to protect Aunt Zhao, her husband, and her younger sister. She had prepared to die, never expecting a troop of soldiers to suddenly appear on the street. They claimed to have been dispatched after receiving a report from the county magistrate about bandit activity in Qingping County. Their scouts had noticed unusual movements at night, leading them to investigate—coincidentally saving her.

Now, faced with the commander's question, she thought of Yan Zheng, who was severely injured upstairs. Worried that any remaining black-clad men might have discovered him, she hurried toward the attic. "My husband is badly wounded and still upstairs."

Instead of sending one of his subordinates, Zheng Wenchang dismounted himself, resting a hand on the sword at his waist as he followed her upstairs. "I'll accompany you to take a look."Fan Changyu rushed into the attic with a torch, only to find the room littered with the bodies of dead men in black. Xie Zheng also lay in a pool of blood, his clothes slashed in several places, and half of his face covered in blood, making his features nearly unrecognizable.

She hadn’t expected so many assailants to remain in the room. Seeing Xie Zheng drenched in blood, her heart clenched with fear that he might be dead. She threw herself beside him to check his injuries. "Yan Zheng, how are you?"

In her panic, she reached out to feel his breath. Only when she confirmed he was still alive did she relax slightly, shouting outside, "Uncle Zhao, come take a look at Yan Zheng!"

Zheng Wenchang, who had entered the attic with two soldiers, swept his gaze over the corpses before fixing his eyes on Xie Zheng’s bloodied face, as if trying to recognize something. Frowning, he asked, "Did your husband kill all these men?"