Chapter 36: A Petty Mind

The expected sensation of being crushed to pieces never came.

*Thump—*

Instead, two hundred-pound meteor hammers fell limply in succession, striking the ground and kicking up clouds of dust.

Jiang Zhuo opened her eyes. She found that at some point, Bai Feijun had pulled her underneath him, shielding her firmly with his body.

Meanwhile, Zhao Pan’s frame stood motionless. A silver-feathered, tri-edged arrow had pierced precisely through his heart from behind.

"...You... you despicable coward." Zhao Pan looked back at the person who had drawn the bow, his eyes bloodshot and filled with bitter resentment.

A hundred paces away, Su Yanqing remained in his firing stance, his calm gaze undisturbed by even a ripple. Then, Zhao Pan’s mountain-like, sturdy body crashed to the ground—his eyes, still brimming with unspent murderous intent, glared unwillingly at the wounded Bai Feijun before slowly turning dull and vacant.

Zhao Pan was dead.

Facing Su Yanqing’s sudden intervention, Jiang Zhuo was momentarily unable to process what had happened. Su Yanqing lowered his bow and stepped forward.

"A-Zhuo, you were too reckless."

Under the tranquil moonlight, Su Yanqing’s expression was cold and detached, as if he were a god. "Can you still stand?"

Though his words were a reprimand, he reached out a hand toward Jiang Zhuo. She shook her head. To be honest, ever since she saw Zhao Pan smash through the window to break in, her legs had been weak.

Su Yanqing sighed. With one hand behind her back and the other beneath her knees, he scooped up Jiang Zhuo, who had been pinned beneath Bai Feijun.

"...My thanks to Brother Su for your intervention just now." Bai Feijun thanked him, his face pale, blood still staining the corner of his mouth.

"I am but a humble commoner; I am unworthy of being addressed as 'Brother' by His Highness the Fifth Prince."

Despite the polite, respectful words, Bai Feijun remained slumped on the ground, while Su Yanqing stood tall in the breeze, holding the beauty in his arms. He showed no intention of bowing; if anything, he looked down upon the other man with a sense of superiority.

Although Zhao Pan had shouted Bai Feijun’s real name multiple times during their battle, hearing Su Yanqing so ruthlessly expose the prince’s identity was still enough to make one wince.

"However, I recall my father mentioning that His Highness the Fifth Prince was ambushed on his way back to the capital and his fate remains unknown. I wonder, why does Your Highness appear here?"

Bai Feijun’s face turned even paler. As Jiang Zhuo had previously suspected, Bai Feijun’s true identity and current whereabouts were a tangled mess. At present, it was the Third Prince, Prince Jing, who held power in the imperial court; no one dared to get too close to the Fifth Prince, Zhao Yi-Bai. Furthermore, in her past life, it was precisely because her father had been framed for colluding with the Fifth Prince that their family estate had been confiscated.

Jiang Zhuo shrank slightly, not daring to look at Bai Feijun again.

Seeing Jiang Zhuo trembling in his arms, the furrow in Su Yanqing’s brow seemed to soften. He headed straight toward the inn and instructed his attendant, "Xiao Ruo, go fetch a physician to treat the Fifth Prince. Do not neglect such an exalted Imperial Highness."

Su Yanqing articulated the words "Imperial" and "Highness" with heavy emphasis, as if intentionally reminding the girl in his arms of Bai Feijun’s concealment and deception, as well as the vast divide in their status.

Jiang Zhuo remained silent. Su Yanqing, however, was in an excellent mood. After all, he held soft, fragrant jade in his arms—and the beauty in his embrace was being remarkably docile.

Before they met at the Zhe-Liu Pavilion, Su Yanqing had always remembered Jiang Zhuo as a naive, spirited little girl in a red dress. "A girl raised in a honey jar will naturally have a temperament that leaves something to be desired. Since you are accompanying the Countess Zhaoning to Pucheng, you must show some forbearance, Yanqing," his father had warned him before his departure.

Prime Minister Jiang’s own temperament was difficult; he had made enemies on all sides in the court and had even broken ties with the Su family, friends for many years, and even with the Jiang clan of his own lineage. It seemed no one expected the only daughter raised by such a man to be sweet-natured.

In truth, the young Jiang Zhuo was never the type Su Yanqing would have approached voluntarily. Before he was nine, his father, who held a post in the capital, would often bring the young Su Yanqing along on visits to the Jiang residence to help him gain connections. Yet, every time he visited, Su Yanqing would intentionally avoid that little hell-raiser and find a quiet corner to read. It was natural that Jiang Zhuo had no impression of him, for Su Yanqing had no desire to cross paths with her.

Fortunately, the Jiang estate had a vast collection of books, and Su Yanqing would often lose himself in them, perfectly content. Over the years, Jiang Lie’s rank had climbed steadily; he was indifferent to wealth, beauty, and power, his only vulnerability being his only daughter. There were too many noble youths in the capital eager to curry favor with Jiang Zhuo, but Su Yanqing disdained such sycophancy, and he had even less interest in playing house with a girl who did nothing but cry and throw tantrums.

But this reunion made Su Yanqing realize that the Jiang Zhuo who had reached womanhood was no longer the arrogant little girl from his memories.

That Jiang Zhuo drew attention was something Su Yanqing had always known. Previously, he had subconsciously attributed this to the girl’s vanity and love for extravagant clothes and makeup. But now, even dressed in plain hempen mourning robes and disguised in low-key men’s attire, she could still unconsciously capture his gaze.

Jiang Zhuo was exceptionally beautiful. Every time Su Yanqing looked at her, he had to admit this truth. Her eyes, clear as autumn water, reflected her surroundings, and her skin, smooth as mutton-fat jade, made her features appear all the more exquisite. Her dark, elegant hair and long, sweeping lashes made the young girl look especially charming.

Su Yanqing also loved the scent of her. Unlike the cloying, vulgar smell of common rouge and hair oil, her fragrance was a gentle, refined aroma born from the incense used in noble households, blended with the unique, sweet scent of a young maiden.

In the education Su Yanqing had received since childhood, a man should marry a virtuous woman—a gentle, scholarly lady like his mother. Jiang Zhuo’s beauty was too striking, and having been chased by wealth, power, and fame since she was a child, she did not fit the standard of a gentleman’s wife, nor was she the type of woman a declining noble like himself should be infatuated with.

Yet, Su Yanqing could not help but hold the girl in his arms tighter, and tighter still.

*Mine. This is mine.* Su Yanqing thought with a touch of obsession.

Had the Prime Minister not had marriage in mind when he smiled and told him to look after Jiang Zhuo all those years ago? Had his own father not harbored hopes of an alliance when he brought his son, a boy of similar age to Jiang Zhuo, to visit the Jiang mansion?

Jiang Zhuo’s temperament did not seem as volatile as it had been in childhood. Perhaps it was because of the Prime Minister’s sudden death, Su Yanqing mused inwardly. She had been motherless since she was small, and now, having just reached womanhood, she had lost both parents. It was no surprise that anyone would become silent, sensitive, and defensive toward those who approached her.

However, Su Yanqing soon realized that Jiang Zhuo’s gaze lingered more often on others. Bai Feijun, a masked man of unknown origin, had appeared by her side before him and had won her trust even earlier.

Su Yanqing did not know if it was jealousy or a desire for possession at work, but he felt a sense of satisfaction when he exposed Bai Feijun’s true identity. As members of the imperial clan, there was no record in this dynasty of a countess ever marrying a prince—let alone the fact that Jiang Zhuo was now an orphan with no further value for political alliance.

Su Yanqing looked down at the silent, endearing Jiang Zhuo in his arms, a faint smile touching his lips once more.

Actually, acting like a villain once in a while felt quite good.