The Golden Hairpin

She knew he would surely lead her to safety.

The arrows behind them could no longer reach—they had escaped the range. The clamor of pursuit gradually faded, and the night enveloped the mountain forest.

Even a horse as strong and swift as Di’e was finally exhausted, slowing its pace.

The bright moon rose above the trees, casting a silvery glow over the surroundings. The world was cold and silent, as if asleep.

The life-and-death struggle from moments ago now seemed like a dream.

Huang Zixiao only felt Li Shubai’s arms around her loosen, yet the weight leaning against her grew heavier.

Her heart tightened, but she could only hold her breath and let Di’e carry them slowly forward for a while before softly calling, “Your Highness…”

He didn’t answer, only resting his head on her shoulder. She heard his labored breathing, the heavy, uneven gasps against her neck—clearly something was wrong.

She reached up to hold his waist and looked at him.

Her hand was wet and sticky, still warm. She knew what it was.

Li Shubai closed his eyes, his voice faint as he said, “Huang Zixiao… the rest of the journey… is up to you.”

She supported his collapsing body, staring into the dark forest ahead, unsure of where they were or where to go. No path forward, pursuers behind, and now her only support had fallen.

Gritting her teeth, she whispered, “Understood.”

Ahead was a mountain stream, surrounded by dense woods. A place with water, concealment, and a quick escape route.

She dismounted first and patted Di’e’s head. Though the horse was usually fierce, it seemed to understand now, kneeling down.

She dragged the unconscious Li Shubai off the horse and saw the arrow embedded in his shoulder. Not daring to pull it out yet, she went to the stream and searched through the grass, finding some eclipta and madder roots. Only then did she cut open his clothes with a dagger to expose the arrow.

The cold moonlight bathed them, turning Li Shubai’s skin pale, the crimson blood stark against it.

Silently biting her lower lip, her hands trembled slightly as she gripped his collar. This was the first time her hands had touched a man’s bare shoulder. She felt a faint heat rising to her face. If the moonlight were brighter, if someone saw her now, they would surely notice her flushed cheeks.

But hesitation crept in, and fear suddenly surged in her heart. The man who had tossed her that bag of candies in the daytime was now gravely injured, unconscious. She was suddenly afraid—afraid that the gentle look he had given her earlier would vanish before her eyes, never to return.

Taking a deep breath, she bent to examine the arrow wound. Seeing that the wound wasn’t blackened and the arrow had no barbs, she sighed in relief.

She tore off part of her outer robe, washed the herbs, chewed them in her mouth, then used the dagger to cut the flesh around the wound. Gripping the arrow, she swiftly pulled it out and applied the poultice.

The wound was deep, blood gushing. She didn’t know if the herbs would be washed away, but she could only tightly bandage it with strips of cloth.By the time everything was settled, the moon had already risen high in the sky. She let out a long sigh, only then realizing she was drenched in sweat. Wiping her brow, she looked at Li Shubai lying prone on the grass. His injuries were severe, and under the moonlight, his lips were frighteningly pale, devoid of any color.

She froze for a moment, realizing for the first time that this Prince Kui Li Shubai—whom she had always believed would stand unshakably behind her, capable of anything in this world—could also appear so weak and vulnerable.

She gazed at him silently for a long while before pulling his clothes back over him, barely covering the haphazardly wrapped bandages.

Pushing herself up, she went to the mountain stream to wash her hands. Under the moonlight, she saw dark stains on her palms and nearly jumped in fright, thinking, Surely the arrow wasn’t poisoned, was it?

But then she remembered—the juice from the eclipta she had just gathered was black, and it must have stained her hands.

Still, she couldn’t shake her unease. She returned to Li Shubai’s side and knelt down to examine him.

With wounds on his back, he lay face down in the grass, his breathing steady. Huang Zixiang pressed close to his face, carefully inspecting his complexion, only to notice a faint layer of dark qi beneath his skin.

Her heart sank. She wondered if it was just the moonlight playing tricks on her eyes, but upon closer inspection of his hands, while his right hand seemed fine, his left hand also bore a dull, grayish-black hue. She rolled up his sleeve and found a dark bruise on his elbow, with a tiny black puncture mark at its center.

A poisoned needle? When did this happen? It couldn’t have been during their escape—it must have been... She immediately recalled the moment Li Shubai had leaped from the carriage with Princess Qile in his arms. At the time, needles had been embedded in the princess’s chest and neck—they must have been fired from some hidden mechanism in an object she carried.

Was Princess Qile dead or alive?

Huang Zixiang leaned against a tree, replaying the scene of Li Shubai mounting his horse and abandoning the princess. If she had still been alive then, would he have left so decisively, without even considering bringing her along?

Yet, a sliver of hope lingered in her heart. Perhaps Li Shubai had known the assailants were connected to Princess Qile and thus wouldn’t harm her, which was why he left her behind. Maybe the princess had still been alive at that moment—maybe the poison wasn’t as deadly as it seemed.

But she couldn’t be sure. All this time, as Li Shubai had fought their way out, steadfastly protecting her, he had already been poisoned, teetering on the brink of death. She had no idea how much the poison had spread during their desperate flight.

There was no time to waste. Huang Zixiang cradled his elbow in her arms and pressed hard on the wound, hoping to squeeze out the poisoned blood. But no matter how hard she tried, not a drop emerged.

With no other choice, she used the dagger he had given her to carve a cross over the wound, then bent down and sucked forcefully at the puncture.

She spat mouthful after mouthful of blood into the grass, but under the moonlight, the color never seemed bright enough. She could feel Li Shubai’s body growing colder, and fear stopped her from continuing. Exhausted, she collapsed beside him, staring blankly at the moon overhead.

A waning moon, in a clear sky.

The long wind rustled through the treetops, and the distant sounds echoed faintly in her dazed mind, only deepening the desolation around them.Huang Ziyao was suddenly gripped by fear. Unconsciously, she leaned her head closer to Li Shubai, burying her face against his shoulder amidst the howling wind, listening intently to his breathing.

It was faint as a thread, unsteady, sluggish and slow—but it was still there, continuing nonetheless.

She let out a sigh of relief and turned her head away, staring blankly into the moonlight for a while before quickly scrambling up. Dragging her exhausted body, she searched carefully along the riverbank.

But there was only so much grass around the river. No matter how hard she looked, she only managed to find a few strands of Lobelia chinensis and two Gentiana plants. Desperate times called for desperate measures—she could only crush them, squeeze out the juice, and drip it into Li Shubai’s mouth. She didn’t know if he swallowed it, so she covered his mouth and waited for a long time before applying the remaining medicine to the wound on his elbow.

Unsure of what else to do, she sat beside him, hugging her knees, watching him intently.

He lay unconscious under the moonlight, the cold light flowing over his face, making his features appear like exquisitely carved jade—beautiful curves crafted by a master artisan, yet as lifeless as stone, devoid of color.

A sudden, overwhelming fear surged in her heart. With trembling hands, she reached into his chest, wanting to feel his heartbeat, but her fingers brushed against a thin piece of paper instead.

Startled, she pulled it out and unfolded it under the cold moonlight.

On it, eerie dragon-and-snake script inscribed Li Shubai’s birth date and time, and above it, six large characters: "Widowed, Crippled, Alone, Abandoned, Disabled, Ill."

And now, the indifferent moonlight illuminated those six words, especially the blood-red circle drawn around the character "Disabled."

"Disabled"—decayed, withered, devoid of vitality, beyond redemption!

Dazed, she stuffed the talisman back into his clothes, her mind roaring, her heart pierced by countless blades. She couldn’t stop trembling, cold sweat dripping down her back.

The world was so terrifying. Who could have imagined that the ominous omen they had spoken of that afternoon would come true tonight?

Was it truly fate, inescapable?

Fear of the unknown made the dark forest seem even more sinister and dreadful. But in this deep wilderness, facing an unknowable future, the person she could rely on had already lost his strength.

He had said, "Huang Ziyao, the road ahead... is yours to walk now..."

Yes, she had promised him then, saying, "Don’t worry."

In her heart, she repeated that promise once more. She stayed by his side, checking his breath from time to time. She needed to feel his exhale against her fingertips, to confirm his skin was still warm, before she could relax, even if just for a moment.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, only that her back and waist ached from the strain. Eventually, she lay down again, curling up beside him, holding his wrist, feeling the faint pulse beneath her fingers—only then could she close her eyes.

It was already the early hours of the morning. Exhausted but unable to sleep, she startled awake at intervals. The night wind was chilly, and she noticed his skin felt slightly cold, occasionally twitching. She knew he had lost too much blood and must be freezing, but she dared not light a fire, afraid the flames would attract enemies.After much deliberation and finding no other solution, she could only inch closer to him, carefully wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face against his chest, hoping her body warmth could bring him even the slightest comfort.

Such an intimate embrace in this desolate wilderness—if anyone were to see them, it would surely become a stain on her reputation that she could never wash away. Yet, despite these thoughts, she remained motionless, holding him tightly without letting go.