The stable hand brought out the carriage. Wei Rao helped Lu Zhuo into it, but instead of going inside, Lu Zhuo settled on the driver's seat.
Wei Rao stared at him in astonishment.
Lu Zhuo smiled and said, "My legs are inconvenient, and I won't sleep well. You go inside and rest first."
Driving only required Lu Zhuo to flick the whip, which didn't take much effort, and Flying Ink was so obedient to him.
Wei Rao didn't stand on ceremony any longer and slipped inside the carriage.
The streets were already pitch black by then. Lu Zhuo had bought two lanterns from the innkeeper and hung them on either side of the carriage. The commotion from upstairs grew increasingly intense. Lu Zhuo's expression remained impassive as he urged Flying Ink to set off.
After the carriage left the small town, Wei Rao took out her washed set of men's clothing and underwear from the bundle, hanging them outside the carriage windows on both sides. With the wind blowing all night, they would surely be dry by morning.
The narrow bed inside the carriage was uncomfortable to sleep on. After some thought, Wei Rao placed the bundle beneath the narrow bed and tried lying down, with her legs from the knees down extending out the front carriage door.
This arrangement was actually the most suitable—no matter how soundly she slept, she wouldn't have to worry about rolling off the narrow bed when the carriage jolted. The only drawback was its lack of elegance. But in the pitch darkness, who would know besides Lu Zhuo? And as for Lu Zhuo, Wei Rao had never intended to play the demure lady in front of him from the start, so she naturally wasn't concerned.
"I'll sleep during the first half of the night, and you can take the second half," Wei Rao said, yawning.
Lu Zhuo glanced at her skirt and agreed.
Flying Ink moved steadily, the carriage jolting gently. Exhausted, Wei Rao quickly fell asleep.
The long night passed deeply. Wei Rao didn't even turn over once until Lu Zhuo poked her calf with the handle of his whip, waking her.
Wei Rao abruptly sat up!
Lu Zhuo promptly called from outside, "We're almost at Shoucheng."
Shoucheng?
Wei Rao leaned out the carriage door and only then noticed that the sky had lightened slightly. A majestic city stood imposingly ahead. On the official road leading to the city gate, several carriages and small groups of vendors carrying goods were scattered about, waiting for the gates to open so they could enter.
So, she had actually slept the entire night, and Lu Zhuo had driven the carriage all night?
Wei Rao looked at Lu Zhuo in disbelief.
Lu Zhuo gazed ahead and said lightly, "We'll be there soon. I'll take care of the remaining stretch as well, so you won't have to change back into men's clothing."
Mention of men's clothing reminded Wei Rao to check the men's robe and underwear hanging outside the carriage windows. She couldn't find them on either side. Scanning the interior, she discovered that Lu Zhuo had stored both sets of clothing, neatly folded and placed inside the carriage door. Probably to prevent passersby and merchants in the distance from seeing the clothes hanging outside, she thought.
Wei Rao was quite annoyed with herself. How could she have slept so soundly?
Putting the dried men's clothing back into the bundle, Wei Rao sat by the inside of the carriage door and asked Lu Zhuo, "How is your wound?"
Lu Zhuo replied, "It's alright. I changed the dressing. I'm just a bit hungry. There should be a morning market inside the city gates. What would you like to eat?"
Wei Rao's stomach immediately rumbled twice.
How could she not be hungry? Not to mention the long journey they had made, the battle in the woods had nearly drained all her strength. She had intended to fill her stomach at the inn last night, but before she could eat more than a few bites, foul language started coming from next door.
After a night, Wei Rao's stomach felt completely empty.
By the time the carriage reached the city gate, it had already opened.
After waiting in line for a while, Lu Zhuo showed his waist token, and the Shoucheng soldiers immediately let their carriage pass.Wei Rao hid behind the carriage curtain and spotted a vendor selling steamed buns on the side of the road. The buns peeking out from the steamer were as large as bowls, so she asked Lu Zhuo to buy two meat buns for her.
Lu Zhuo halted the carriage but remained seated, tossing a piece of broken silver to the vendor and ordering four meat buns. Buns alone wouldn’t be enough to fill their stomachs, but they would serve as a temporary snack. They planned to have noodle soup back at the posthouse.
The vendor, beaming with smiles, brought over the four large buns.
Lu Zhuo handed a greased paper package through the carriage door.
Wei Rao grabbed it and began eating immediately, not minding whether it was scalding hot.
Upon returning to the posthouse, Zhao Song, Zhao Bai, and Bitao, who had been worried all night, rushed out. Their masters had promised to return by the previous evening at the latest.
Lu Zhuo drove the carriage directly to the courtyard where they were staying. Before Zhao Song could approach, Lu Zhuo landed on his right leg and leaped down from the carriage.
Wei Rao happened to lean out at that moment. Frowning at the sight, she feared Lu Zhuo was pushing himself too hard. She instructed Zhao Song, "The heir has a leg injury. Help him inside."
Zhao Song and Zhao Bai turned pale and rushed over without a word, supporting Lu Zhuo on either side as they escorted him inside.
"Young lady, are you alright?" Bitao asked anxiously, stepping forward to assist her mistress.
Wei Rao jumped down from the carriage and whispered, "I’m fine. My baggage and the heir's are inside—take them in. Also, tell the kitchen to prepare hot water and hurry with breakfast. And…"
Before she could finish, Zhao Bai hurried back, bowed to her, and glanced at Flying Ink. "Young Madam, the heir instructed me to tend to Flying Ink."
Wei Rao nodded. That was only right—Flying Ink had traveled for a full day and night. Even if Lu Zhuo wasn’t concerned, she certainly was.
After Zhao Bai left, Bitao, holding the two bundles, asked quietly, "What else did you wish to instruct, young lady?""
Wei Rao smiled and said, "The heir and I have reconciled. Let’s pretend the earlier matters never happened."
On the seventh day of the fifth lunar month, it was the final day of Wei Rao and Lu Zhuo’s stay at the Jin City posthouse.
Early that morning, the couple returned from outside. After sharing a meal, they parted ways: Lu Zhuo rested and caught up on sleep in the rear courtyard, while Wei Rao stayed in the front courtyard, receiving local officials who had come to bid the couple farewell.
By noon, Lu Zhuo had woken up. In the evening, he was to take Wei Rao to the prefect’s residence for a farewell banquet.
As officials, such social obligations were unavoidable—even when injured.
Lu Zhuo couldn’t reveal that he had been ambushed by assassins, so he had no other excuse to decline the prefect’s kind invitation.
Of course, that was only Lu Zhuo’s perspective.
When Wei Rao heard he planned to attend the banquet at the prefect’s home, she laughed and fixed her gaze on his left leg. "Your leg can’t bear any weight right now. If you go, the only way to avoid suspicion is to walk normally. What if your wound reopens? Don’t dismiss it as a minor injury—remember why you were bedridden last year. It’s sweltering summer now; wounds fester more easily. If you end up lame, what will Old Madam think?"
Lu Zhuo sat in the armchair opposite her, listening to her rapid-fire questions—fierce yet charming, laced with concern for him. He felt no pain in his leg at all, but… "If we don’t go, what excuse should we use? I already agreed earlier."
Wei Rao replied, "Just say you got drunk last night and twisted your ankle while dismounting."
Lu Zhuo’s expression shifted slightly. As a distinguished military officer, such an excuse felt beneath his dignity.
Wei Rao knew exactly what he was thinking. "Is a little dignity more important than your leg? Heir, don’t forget—if you return to the capital injured, Old Madam will demand an explanation from me."Lu Zhuo had no choice but to summon Zhao Song and instruct him to make a trip to the magistrate's residence.
Zhao Song accepted the order with a stern expression, but the moment he stepped out of the hall, a grin spread across his face. Although the young mistress's tone had sounded fierce, it was effective. The Young Lord, usually so stubborn and concerned with face, had actually listened to her. Recalling how the two had ignored each other before their departure, Zhao Song surmised that the Young Lord must have spent the past few days humbling himself to please the young mistress, earning her concern today.
Upon hearing that Lu Zhuo had sprained his foot, the magistrate hurriedly brought a group of officials to visit him at the posthouse. Lu Zhuo sat in a chair and smiled as he dealt with their inquiries.
Early the next morning, the group set off.
Lu Zhuo and Wei Rao sat in the carriage, meeting up with over eight hundred new recruits led by eight commanders of the Divine Martial Army outside the city gates.
Lu Zhuo's wound required dressing changes three times a day.
Wei Rao had only helped him change it once when she removed the arrow, cutting away the clothing around the wound without exposing other areas. Now, with regular dressing changes, it was impractical to keep cutting perfectly good clothes. While rolling up his pant leg was manageable for the leg wound, the shoulder wound required removing half of his robe.
Whenever it was time to change the dressing, Wei Rao would turn her back.
If there had been fewer people on the way here, Wei Rao would have dismounted to ride for a while. But now, with nearly a thousand new recruits following behind, she stayed quietly in the carriage to avoid being scrutinized and gossiped about, preserving Lu Zhuo's dignity as the deputy general of the Divine Martial Army, in accordance with their agreement.
"Why don't you go riding anymore?"
After she had stayed cooped up for four days, Lu Zhuo asked curiously. The first four days had been scorching, so she might have been avoiding the sun, but today was overcast and breezy.
Was it because she no longer had the chestnut horse?
"You can ride Flying Ink."
Wei Rao leaned listlessly in the corner of the carriage, eyes closed, and said, "With so many new recruits, doesn't the Young Lord mind his wife showing her face in public?"
Lu Zhuo hadn't expected that to be her reason.
What struck him belatedly was that he truly didn't seem to mind anymore—though she should still wear a veil. Those new recruits were all young and full of vigor; some farm boys might never have even seen an ordinary beauty. If they caught sight of Wei Rao, Lu Zhuo could control their eyes and mouths, but not their hearts or even their dreams.
"The weather is nice today. If you'd like to ride, I can accompany you for a while." Lu Zhuo glanced at her fair, delicate face and spoke toward the carriage door.
Wei Rao's eyelashes fluttered slightly as she cracked open an eye slit, meeting Lu Zhuo's handsome, gentle face.
Had his sudden change in attitude come about because she had saved his life, or was Lu Zhuo still trying to win her over, to make their marriage real so he wouldn't have to worry about her complaining to his mother or his mother whispering in Emperor Yuanjia's ear?
Wei Rao dared not enter into a real marriage with Lu Zhuo.
Previously, she had married into the Lu Family to borrow the prestige of the Duke of Yingguo's Manor to intimidate the Empress Dowager. But now Wei Rao knew that the Lu Family's prestige wasn't all that formidable—there were people secretly plotting to have Lu Zhuo killed. This assassination attempt had failed, but who knew when the next one would come? If Lu Zhuo's luck ran worse, he might even die before the Empress Dowager.
"Never mind, it might rain soon."
Wei Rao glanced out the window and chose to continue dozing.
Not long after she spoke, it indeed began to rain. The raindrops started small but grew heavier, pattering noisily against the carriage window.The carriage picked up speed, and the new recruits dashed through the rain, searching for shelter.
Outside was chaos, yet Lu Zhuo's thoughts remained entirely within the small carriage, focused on Wei Rao's delicate hands gripping the wooden panel.
What should he do to make her trust him, to accept him?
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