The Golden Hairpin

She held onto Li Shubai's wrist, feeling the weak but persistent pulse, lost in thought when she suddenly sensed something amiss around them.

Pressing her ear to the ground, she strained to listen—the sound of hoofbeats approached in the distance.

The tired, irregular rhythm of the horses' steps indicated they had been searching all night. And now, they had finally arrived.

Fortunately, the hoofbeats suggested the group had been scattered by the forest, with only two or three horses approaching.

But even if there were only three pursuers, how could she and Li Shubai possibly defend themselves? In his current condition, how could he endure the rough escape through the mountains?

She sprang up and lashed Di’e with her whip. The horse, resting against a tree, let out a furious whinny and charged at her, nostrils flaring.

Huang Zixiao lowered her voice and pointed ahead, commanding, "Run! Now!"

Stung by the whip, Di’e bolted forward like an arrow, leaping across the mountain stream and charging into the dark forest ahead.

Meanwhile, she dragged Li Shubai from the ground and hid him in the bushes by the stream. Crouching beside him, she held her breath, eyes wide as she watched the outside.

Two riders descended from the mountain behind them, galloping past their hiding spot in pursuit of Di’e. One led the chase while the other nocked a whistling arrow and loosed it into the night. A streak of fire cut through the darkness like a curved blade, vanishing in an instant.

She waited silently behind the bushes for a long time, until the hoofbeats faded and the surroundings returned to stillness. Only then did she exhale in relief, though she dared not emerge. Instead, she tightened the bandages around Li Shubai’s wounds, checking to ensure no fresh blood seeped through before turning her gaze to the stream outside.

What she saw nearly made her leap in fright.

A dark figure stood motionless before the bushes where she hid.

He held a horse’s reins—clearly one of the pursuers—yet for some reason, he had stayed behind while the others gave chase.

Now, bathed in moonlight, he stared directly at her.

The moon had dipped low, casting his silhouette in stark relief. A black cloth concealed his face, leaving only his piercing eyes fixed on her.

Huang Zixiao felt her heart stop. Frozen in place, she remained seated beside the unconscious Li Shubai.

Finally, the man’s gaze shifted from her to Li Shubai. In a low, gravelly voice tinged with a Xuzhou accent—the same voice that had ordered the pursuit—he spoke slowly, "Prince Kui, Li Shubai."

Fear twisted Huang Zixiao’s expression. She tried to stand, but her legs gave way, and she collapsed back beside Li Shubai.

The man drew his sword and advanced step by step. His shadow, backlit by the moon, loomed over them, suffocating her with its oppressive presence.

His eyes flickered over her before settling on Li Shubai. Raising his sword high, he prepared to strike straight at his heart.

"I know who you are!" she blurted out, halting his movement.

He paused, casting a cold glance her way but saying nothing."You altered your voice and deliberately spoke with a Xuzhou accent to make us think you were remnants of Pang Xun's forces, killing Prince Kui to avenge your former leader, didn't you?"

He remained silent, only shifting the tip of his sword to press against her neck.

Her chest heaved violently, her breathing strained by the blade at her throat, her voice growing hoarse and faint: "But in truth, I know you're from the capital—and most likely, you were trained in the Capital Ten Divisions, because..."

Her voice trailed off into a whisper, as if fear had stolen her volume. The man bent down, leaning closer to catch her words.

"Because... when you draw your sword, your thumb instinctively twists to the side..." Only then did realization dawn on him, and he reflexively glanced at his sword-wielding right hand.

But in that split second of distraction, his vision blurred as a dagger thrust toward his abdomen.

He reacted swiftly, twisting away, but the distance was too close. Though he avoided a fatal strike, the blade still slashed across his left ribs, blood gushing forth.

Clutching his side, he staggered back two steps in disbelief. Huang Zixiang had already leapt out from behind the bushes, grabbing a handful of dirt and flinging it at his eyes.

Unprepared for such tactics, with one hand gripping his sword and the other pressing his wound, he could only shut his eyes and swing wildly to keep her at bay.

Huang Zixiang's voice rang out: "The sword hilts of the Capital Ten Divisions all have a latch to prevent accidental draws in crowded streets—and to discipline those who draw carelessly. So, those trained there instinctively twist the latch with their thumb before drawing. And you—a supposed remnant of Pang Xun's forces from Xuzhou—why would you have that habit?"

He said nothing, clutching his ribs as agony seared through him. His legs gave way, forcing him to lean against a tree behind him. With his last strength, he sealed his pressure points to stem the bleeding, glaring at her motionlessly. Though he still held his sword, his body trembled violently, utterly drained.

Huang Zixiang tore another strip from her outer robe and approached him.

He stared, silent, his gaze complex—not fear or hatred, but something between resignation and shock.

She had no time to decipher his expression. Stepping on his sword, she stomped hard on his wrist. Even the strongest man couldn't suppress a cry of pain as his grip loosened, the blade clattering free.

She seized his hands, binding them with the torn cloth, then yanked off his mask. The face beneath was unremarkable, instantly forgettable. Without hesitation, she stuffed the mask into his mouth.

Once he was secured, she picked up his sword and crouched before him, examining the wound. Her dagger strike had been vicious—slashing from his right shoulder nearly to his left abdomen. Had he been a fraction slower, she'd have gutted him.

Turning the dagger over, she spotted the engraved characters "Fish Gut" and murmured, "No wonder."She tore off the hem of his clothes and roughly wrapped it around his wound, indifferent to whether he lived or died. Only when she stood up and saw his eyes still fixed unwaveringly on her did she say, "Don't worry, I won't kill you now. At the very least, if your accomplices search this place, you can still serve as a hostage."

After the night's turmoil, the horizon was already showing the first light of dawn. Huang Ziyao walked to the stream, cupped some water in her hands, and washed her face. The cold water cleared her mind. Shaking her hands dry, she led his horse over and rummaged through the small pouch on its back.

Aside from a bow and arrows, there were a few strings of coins, some salt blocks, several bottles of wound medicine, and one bottle of unidentified powder. She opened the bottle and sniffed, detecting the scents of rehmannia and rhubarb. She immediately grabbed it and walked back to the assassin.

He had lost too much blood, and his gaze was slightly unfocused as he looked at her.

Placing her dagger lightly against his throat, she removed the cloth from his mouth and asked, "What is this?"

He glanced at it and gritted his teeth. "I suffer from headaches. I take this with water when they flare up."

Huang Ziyao sneered. "Who uses rehmannia and rhubarb for headaches? This is clearly an antidote!"

He closed his eyes, refusing to look at her or speak.

"I don’t know how you manipulated Princess Qile, but she is still a member of the imperial family. Since you used poisoned needles, you must have prepared an antidote in advance—just in case, it’s easier to explain if you can save her. Unfortunately, the princess no longer needs it, and the antidote you’re carrying is this bottle, isn’t it?"

Finally, he spoke, his voice still hoarse and carrying a Xuzhou accent. "Mix half a spoonful with water and take it."

Huang Ziyao pressed the dagger harder against his neck. "If you’re lying and anything happens to Prince Kui, I won’t kill you—I’m a eunuch, and what I enjoy most is making others like me. If you deceive me..."

She moved the dagger lower, pressing it against his abdomen.

His breathing was ragged, his expression slightly dazed from blood loss. Yet his gaze remained fixed on her, and though his voice was low, it was clear: "A woman as beautiful as you... why pretend to be a eunuch?"

Huang Ziyao froze, surprised he had seen through her disguise. She hadn’t expected them to already know her true identity. In a fit of anger, she grabbed the cloth and stuffed it back into his mouth.

She returned to where she had sucked the poison from Li Shubai’s wound the previous day, smeared some of the poisoned blood onto her dagger, then went back to the assassin and stabbed his calf with it.

The assassin, already weakened from blood loss, convulsed in pain, his eyes widening as he let out a muffled groan.

Without hesitation, she tore open the cloth around the wound, watching as it quickly turned a sickly gray-black. She pulled the cloth from his mouth, poured a bit of the powder onto his tongue, and said, "You’re the test subject. If you die, don’t blame me."

He glared at her furiously, but before he could swallow the medicine, his mouth was stuffed shut again, leaving him no chance to speak—only to continue glaring.She crouched beside him, watching as the dark aura around the wound on his leg gradually receded. Only then did she feel relieved. Hurriedly grabbing the antidote, she rushed to Li Shubai’s side and uncorked the bottle. In this desolate wilderness, there was no spoon to be found, so she could only estimate the amount and pour some into his mouth. Then, she plucked a large leaf, rolled it into a tube, and scooped some water to slowly trickle into his mouth, helping him swallow it.

Fortunately, though unconscious, Li Shubai instinctively managed to swallow. Huang Zixiao then loosened his clothes, removed the medicinal herbs applied the night before, and carefully dressed his wound with golden wound medicine, wrapping it securely.

By the time she finished, the sky had brightened completely. Mist lingered faintly among the mountain forests, while sunlight streamed brilliantly through the gaps in the branches overhead, casting a dazzling glow.