Chi Ying’s mind was a chaotic mess. She was not prepared to meet Prince Zhao, especially not while he was likely in the middle of an assassination attempt. If the assassins discovered her presence, she would be caught in a crossfire of undeserved calamity.

She took a deep breath, reaching a desperate decision. She immediately instructed the driver: “We cannot help. Let us stop further away so as not to become a burden to His Highness.”

The driver agreed and was about to steer the horse onto a side path. Unexpectedly, this movement caught the attention of the assassins, who were already beginning to falter.

The leader of the men in black fixed his gaze on them, instantly noticing the emblem on the corner of the carriage. He shouted, “It is the Prince Zhao estate’s carriage!”

As his voice fell, not only did the assassins’ eyes light up, but even the hidden guards of the Zhao estate paused for a fraction of a second.

Only Consort Zhuang was permitted to use the estate’s official carriage, yet the Consort had not left the residence for years. Who could be inside?

Their eyes met, and they simultaneously remembered that the Prince’s new consort had entered the estate just a few days ago. Could it be her?

In that moment of hesitation, a horse whinnied from the opposite side. The driver was kicked to the ground, followed by a chorus of screams from within the carriage. A young lady dressed in an apricot-pink jacket was dragged out by an assassin. A cold, gleaming blade was pressed against her slender, snowy neck. The dangling ornaments in her hair let out a brittle, fragmented clinking as she struggled to keep her footing.

Cornered and desperate, the lead assassin called out to the dark blue carriage across the way: “The Princess Consort is in my hands! If Prince Zhao wishes for her safety, let us leave immediately! Otherwise, I will let her blood stain this street!”

Chi Ying felt a dull buzzing in her ears. She never imagined she would face such an ordeal. It turned out that being a substitute bride wasn’t the worst of it; she might actually lose her life today!

The icy blade was pressed tight against the side of her neck. Along with the assassin’s ferocious roar, the edge pressed down, carving a thin line of blood as his hands trembled uncontrollably.

Chi Ying could barely breathe. The cold light reflecting off the blade mirrored in her pupils. She could already smell the faint scent of rust. Her eyes instinctively turned toward the dark blue carriage.

The evening wind was biting. The golden bells on the eaves of the carriage swayed slightly, carrying a chilling aura of slaughter.

At that moment, a very light laugh drifted out from behind the curtains.

It was like a ripple stirred by the night wind: cold as jade, utterly indifferent. In the silence of the long street, it was terrifyingly clear.

His attitude was already obvious.

Chi Ying closed her eyes. The pain in her neck was cold and sharp.

She had no choice but to try and save herself. “You can see for yourself that holding me is useless. I have not bowed to the ancestors with Prince Zhao, nor have we shared a wedding night. We have never even met. We cannot be considered husband and wife.”

The assassin leader gnashed his teeth.

They had received news that Prince Zhao was heavily injured and was heading out tonight, making it the perfect time for an ambush. They hadn’t expected the Prince to be so prepared. His hidden guards were top-tier experts, and the assassins had been slaughtered almost the entire time.

Thinking of this, the assassin’s face twisted. His hot, ragged breath hit the back of Chi Ying’s ear as he barked: “Prince Zhao! This marriage was bestowed by the Emperor himself! If the Princess Consort dies a violent death only three days after the wedding, surely Your Highness will have a difficult time explaining it to the throne? Let us go, or the blade in my hand will lose its eyes!”

Before he could finish, the wind roared. The dark blue curtain of the carriage was briefly lifted, revealing a glimpse of a black and gold robe. Then, a silver flash pierced the night sky. Swoosh! It flew straight toward Chi Ying’s eyes!

A thunderclap seemed to explode in her mind. Chi Ying’s entire body went rigid. She was drenched in cold sweat, truly believing she was about to die by that silver arrow.

It wasn’t until a slight pain flared in her earlobe, followed by the dull, short sound of an arrow entering flesh behind her, that she realized she was alive. The assassin’s cry of pain was cut short. Chi Ying’s pupils shrank, and her breathing nearly stopped.

Two heartbeats later, the assassin behind her crashed to the ground.

The arrow had pierced through his throat, and blood splattered everywhere. Chi Ying’s vision was stained red; even her eyelashes were hung with droplets of blood.

After a long while, she regained a sliver of her senses. She turned around to see the cold arrow buried deep in the assassin’s neck.

The man lay in a pool of blood, his eyes wide and staring, refusing to find peace even in death.

Xiangqin and Baoshan were maids from a wealthy household, but they had never seen such a bloody scene. Both were screaming in terror.

Chi Ying’s face was deathly pale. Her nails bit into the soft flesh of her palms, suppressing the suffocating fear in her heart.

The remaining assassins were leaderless. Only three were kept alive; the rest were executed on the spot.

Chi Ying stood frozen, her thin frame trembling slightly.

The carriage slowly approached. The wheels rolled over the gravel with a rasping, tearing sound. As it passed her, the large frame cast a heavy shadow over her, like a bloodthirsty beast swallowing her fragile form.

The lead guard, following Prince Zhao’s orders, stepped forward and bowed. “His Highness invites the Princess Consort into the carriage.”

Chi Ying looked back at her own carriage. The axle was broken, the driver was unconscious, and her two maids were hysterical with fright.

Her face was as white as paper as she tried to stop her voice from shaking. “I… I can return on my own. I shouldn’t trouble His Highness.”

To be safe, she felt it best to minimize contact with Prince Zhao. If that cold arrow had been even half an inch off, she would be the one dead. She hadn’t figured out how to live under the same roof as a man who had nearly taken her life.

However, the person inside the carriage did not respond for a long time, as if he possessed infinite patience.

Chi Ying’s body was stiff. She felt the golden bells on the eaves were like drumbeats of doom, striking her heart over and over.

The guard glanced at the carriage, his voice carrying a hint of a nudge. “Please enter the carriage, Princess. Do not make His Highness wait.”

Chi Ying gritted her teeth. Knowing she couldn’t hide, she forced herself to step up.

Her fingertips slowly lifted the curtain, and the clear, cold scent of Galan incense drifted into her nose.

Chi Ying raised her eyes and finally saw her husband in person.

The man wore a black silk robe with gold embroidery. His refined, cold face was hidden in the shifting shadows, making his profile seem even sharper. His features were deep and stern, his lips pale. He carried an air of effortless composure, the natural aura of a ruler that was terrifying to behold.

Most notably, his fingers were toyed with a delicate crossbow.

Chi Ying remembered the arrow that had pierced the assassin’s throat and instinctively shivered. Hasn’t he been blind for a long time? How could he have such accuracy…?

She stared for so long that she didn’t realize she was gaping.

It wasn’t until the man spoke in a warm voice: “The Princess Consort is not sitting?”

His voice was clear and cool, like the shattering of Kunshan jade or spring snow snapping bamboo. It washed over her ears, making her heart tremble for no reason.

Chi Ying snapped back to reality and bowed deeply. “This… this concubine greets Your Highness.”

The words “this concubine” were incredibly difficult to say.

Prince Zhao nodded. “Mm.”

Chi Ying swallowed hard and sat in the corner by the front curtain, keeping as much distance as possible.

Yet her gaze still drifted toward him, quietly checking his eyes. She had always heard he was gloomy and cruel, but she hadn’t expected such unrivaled beauty.

His eyes were slightly lowered. His grey-cold pupils were like heavy mist or burnt incense ash. His eyelashes were long, casting shallow shadows over his eyelids. His gaze was slightly vacant, and a bamboo cane inlaid with black jade leaned against his hand. He was undoubtedly blind.

“Is the Princess Consort looking at me?” Prince Zhao suddenly asked.

Chi Ying’s body jolted. She saw the corners of his lips curl up ever so slightly. His gaze landed vaguely in her direction. He clearly hadn’t looked at her, yet his calm, clear eyes seemed to see through everything.

He was waiting for her answer.

Chi Ying pushed down her fear and chose her words carefully. “This concubine heard Your Highness was bedridden with heavy injuries. I did not expect to see you here.”

A light laugh escaped Prince Zhao’s throat. “If not for the assassins’ reminder, I might have forgotten that two days ago was my wedding. I could not receive you personally that day. Surely the Princess does not hold a grudge against me?”

Chi Ying: “This concubine would not dare. Your Highness was injured; it is only natural that I should be understanding. I was in a panic just now and spoke out of turn.”

Prince Zhao nodded. “The Princess is indeed reasonable and kind.”

Chi Ying’s face was a sickly green. She didn’t know how to respond.

The killing outside continued. It seemed one of the men in black had faked his death to report back, only to be finished off by several strikes from the guards.

Inside the carriage, the man looked relaxed. A very faint smile hung on his lips, as if the dozens of corpses outside were merely things to amuse him.

Chi Ying recalled the rumors about Prince Zhao: that he was a God of Slaughter, a malevolent being brought to earth. Chi Yingyue’s terrified expression whenever he was mentioned made perfect sense now.

And she had seen it today. Prince Zhao was nothing like the dying, terminal patient the rumors described. He was clearly…

Chi Ying didn’t dare look at his face. She lowered her eyes, and her gaze accidentally fell on the hand he was using to stroke the crossbow string.

His fingers were thin and long. He wore a green jade thumb ring. His clean, pale knuckles were slightly flushed, and the veins on the back of his hand had a sharp, fragmented look. He let the string press terrifying red marks into his fingertips, seemingly oblivious to the pain.

Prince Zhao sensed her gaze. His fingers moved slightly, and he smiled again. “What is the Princess looking at now?”

Chi Ying’s body shook; her legs nearly gave way. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I…”

“What crime have you committed?”

Prince Zhao said leisurely, “It is just that I did not know the Princess was so curious about me.”

“This concubine would not dare.”

Chi Ying bit her lip and dared not look up again.

As the carriage moved further away, the screams and the scent of blood faded.

Prince Zhao heard the faint tinkling of the woman’s earrings beside him. There seemed to be a slight difference between the two sides. He suddenly remembered something, pulled a silk handkerchief from his sleeve, paused, and handed it to her. “Is the Princess injured?”

As he spoke, the stinging at her neck rushed back in a dense wave. Chi Ying instinctively reached out to touch it, and her fingertips came away with a smear of dark red blood.

Prince Zhao liked cleanliness—Auntie Fangchun had said so.

Blind people are exceptionally sensitive to smells. After a “session,” she was expected to call someone to clean up immediately. No fluids or scents were to remain in the room, lest they disturb the Prince’s sleep.

Just now, he must have smelled the blood on her.

Unfortunately, her own handkerchief had been lost in the other carriage when she was taken.

Chi Ying hesitated for a moment, then took it. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

As she took the silk, her fingertips accidentally brushed the man’s fingers. The touch was cool like jade, and it scared her so much she pulled back as if she had been shocked.

Fortunately, the wound wasn’t deep; only a bit of blood had seeped out. Chi Ying slowly wiped it clean, then carefully dabbed at the blood on her cheek and the corner of her eye.

This handkerchief, like the man himself, carried the cool, refreshing scent of Galan incense.

The gods and buddhas are merciful, saving all living beings. Yet this cloth was now stained with striking blood.

It made her feel dazed, unable to tell if the scent was a blessing or a curse.

Chi Ying folded the handkerchief neatly and said softly: “I will wash this and return it to Your Highness later.”

Prince Zhao rubbed his fingers. The lingering warmth seemed to remain there, like an invisible itch crawling under his skin. He frowned, an unnoticeable flicker of irritable anger flashing across his brow.

The carriage slowly came to a halt outside the Zhao estate.

Chi Ying had been anxious since they left Chengxian Street, wondering if she should help Prince Zhao out of the carriage. He couldn’t see, and as his Princess Consort, she should naturally serve him.

But in her heart, she didn’t want any contact with him. This man was far more dangerous than she had imagined. The more she said, the more mistakes she would make. It was better to keep her distance.

After thinking it over, Chi Ying finally found a reason. “This concubine’s hands are stained with filth. I fear I might offend Your Highness. It is better to let your personal guards assist you.”

Prince Zhao gripped his bamboo cane, his voice tinged with a smile. “The Princess is indeed thoughtful.”

Chi Ying felt a hint of mockery in his words. She didn’t dare think about it and quickly stepped down from the carriage.

Prince Zhao followed, leaning forward. His cane tapped the ground as he descended slowly. Without help, he walked steadily. Aside from his slow movements, he was almost indistinguishable from a sighted person.

The evening wind blew gently, and the moonlight was like water. The man’s tall, upright figure was draped in a silver-white glow, making him look even more elegant and refined. There was no sign of a dying man in his movements.

He tapped his cane, slowly drawing closer. His dark, lonely shadow began to swallow the moonlight at her feet.

Chi Ying felt a heavy pressure in her chest and a chill on her back. She silently took two steps back.

She hadn’t expected him to notice so easily.

The corners of the man’s lips curled into a half-smile. “Is the Princess Consort afraid of me?”

Footnotes:

Galan Incense (伽蓝香): This refers to a type of precious agarwood. In literature, it often signifies a character who is refined, perhaps religious, or has a hidden depth.

Kunshan Jade (昆山玉碎): Derived from a Tang Dynasty poem, this phrase describes sounds that are high, clear, and melodious, like jade shattering.

This concubine (妾身 – Qieshen): A humble form of self-address used by married women when speaking to their husbands or elders.

Translator’s Note: It looks like our MC has just realized her “sickly” husband is actually the most dangerous man in the city. Enjoy, and drop feedback.

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