After Rebirth, I Married my Archenemy - Chapter 15

Years of assassination experiences had given Qun Qing the instinct to sense danger and flee. Without hesitation, she blended into the crowd, retreating toward a safer area. Only when she felt somewhat secure did she dare to glance back. She heard the commanding voice of a guard ringing in the wind: 

“Prince Yan’s residence is taking people! Clear out the traitors! Everyone, halt!”

Prince Yan’s residence? Qun Qing’s gaze swept over the scene. Then she remembered.

The familiar circular embroidered insignia adorned with silver water-patterned dragons—they were everywhere. The silver dragon, representing a water dragon, was a symbol bestowed upon Prince Yan by the Emperor to temper Li Huan’s fiery disposition. The Prince’s attire and the residence’s decorations frequently displayed these silver dragons.

These were the guards of Prince Yan’s residence.

Could it be that the noble she had seen in the black carriage earlier was Prince Li Huan?

No, it didn’t make sense. Li Huan and Lu Huating had always been on good terms. How could Li Huan’s guards be so aggressively hunting Lu Huating in the streets? Could this be part of some internal power struggle within Prince Yan’s residence? Wasn’t the residence always known for being unified?

As the fighting escalated, Qun Qing pulled the child with her. The black-clad guards swung their clubs wildly, forcing Jian Su and Kuang Su to draw their short swords, though they were gradually being driven back, step by step.

Jian Su, in a desperate attempt, jumped onto a nearby sugarcane stall, grabbing two sugarcanes to use as makeshift long poles to fend off the guards. But the stall quickly toppled, sending sugarcane juice splattering across the marketplace.

The West Market hadn’t seen such fierce fighting in a long time, and the scene brought all business to a standstill.

But two swords could not hold off a dozen attackers. Jian Su and Kuang Su were quickly overwhelmed, their clothes stained red as they took multiple hits. The guards began to close in on Lu Huating, and the lead guard, drawing a gleaming long knife, approached with deadly intent.

As Qun Qing observed the battle, her emotions became conflicted. The guards were using lethal force, and yet she couldn’t step in. It was dangerous, and she had the child to protect.

“Sister, there’s still a bag of snacks!” The child pointed at the pastries, now almost crushed underfoot by the frenzied guards.

“We can’t pick it up,” Qun Qing tightened her grip on him, her voice tense with worry. If they got involved, they could easily get caught in the violence.

Just then, on the otherwise deserted official road, a chubby little boy came waddling along, humming a tune. The child had a bone whistle strung around his neck by a red thread, and his Daoist robe dragged at his feet as he carried several bags of medicine. While others had long since fled the scene, this boy seemed oddly oblivious, pausing to glance around before raising his hand to wave at the crowd.

Qun Qing squinted, and after a moment, she recognized him. It was Xiao Song, the little attendant who helped Fang Xie. He must have been sent to deliver something to her.

Xiao Song noticed the fighting nearby, his face paling as he shrank back in fear, freezing at the roadside. Qun Qing quickly motioned to him. “Go back and wait for me under the bridge,” she whispered urgently.

He hesitated, then nodded and hurried off in the opposite direction, disappearing from sight as Qun Qing braced herself for what was to come.

Xiao Song, torn between fear and loyalty, hesitated for only a moment before clutching the medicine bags tightly and rushing toward Qun Qing, making a clumsy commotion as he ran. The scene had grown chaotic, and the guards, already lost in their bloodlust, barely noticed the boy until one of them, in a blind rage, lashed out with a kick that sent Xiao Song crashing to the ground. The medicine packets scattered, spilling across the dirt.

Seeing this, Qun Qing’s heart tightened. With quick reflexes, she hurled a small stone that ricocheted off the eaves and struck the guard square in the neck. The man staggered backward, grasping his throat, his eyes wide in shock. “I’m bleeding!” he cried, bringing more guards rushing to his side.

“Someone threw a hidden weapon! Stay alert for more!” the others shouted, drawing their swords and scanning the crowd.

Women in the market whispered sympathetically about the innocent boy, but none dared intervene. The tension was palpable, and Qun Qing took advantage of the distraction to weave through the crowd and reach Xiao Song.

Though bruised and in pain, Xiao Song hadn’t sustained any serious injuries. Tears streaked his face, but his stubbornness prevailed as he shoved the scattered medicine packets into Qun Qing’s arms. Then, without a word, he turned and bolted back toward safety.

“Stop right there!” The guard, now furious, made to pursue the boy, but another pulled him back, muttering about not drawing further attention.

Qun Qing quickly interjected, 

“He’s just a child. Don’t take your anger out on him.”

Before she could fully stand, a hard shove from behind sent her sprawling to the ground, her palms scraping against the rough gravel. She winced, but before she could react, an elderly man leaning on a cane shouted angrily, 

“Who do you think you are, pushing around a helpless woman?”

“Exactly! Prince Yan’s people think they can do whatever they want, even if it means trampling over the Emperor’s laws!” a bystander echoed, their voice tinged with indignation.

“Mind your own business!” barked one of the guards, brandishing a knife menacingly. “This is Prince Yan’s business. Speak too much, and you might lose your tongue!”

The crowd retreated further in fear, cowed by the threat, leaving Qun Qing on the ground. She didn’t move immediately, though. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Xiao Song had already vanished into the crowd, safely out of harm’s way. Slowly, she adjusted her headscarf, pulling it more securely into place.

The shove and the commotion had nearly exposed her. These guards clearly had dubious intentions, and it wasn’t hard to imagine the lengths they might go to. But Qun Qing knew they were bound by the limits of the law. Even servants of nobility couldn’t kill commoners in broad daylight, especially not in Chang’an. If they crossed that line, the Court of Judicial Review would surely intervene, and the consequences would fall heavily on them.

Qun Qing knew that the best course of action was to play her part as a helpless bystander, taking a few insults and blows to allow the guards to vent their frustrations and hopefully forget about her. She was already prepared for it. As expected, one of the guards grabbed her by the collar, lifting her off the ground like a sack of grain. She went limp, feigning fragility, her eyes lowered as though defeated.

“Why cover your face?” the guard sneered, malice dripping from his words. 

“Let’s see what’s underneath. If you’re pretty, maybe I’ll kiss you. If not, you might get a few slaps. How does that sound?” He reached for her veil, his fingers curling with ill intent.

But before his hand could touch the fabric, a sharp voice, clear as the sound of shattered jade, cut through the air: 

“Kuang Su, protect the lady and get her out of here!”

Qun Qing froze. The voice belonged to Lu Huating. Though his words weren’t loud, they reached her ears with unsettling clarity. He spoke as though she were someone of importance, his tone filled with concern and command.

What did he just say?

He had said, “Protect the lady and leave.” His words echoed with worry and care, as if Qun Qing were more than just a passerby. His performance was impeccable. Suddenly, Kuang Su, drenched in blood from head to toe, leaped through the air, crashing into the guard holding her.

This unexpected move shattered Qun Qing’s calm. She had no choice but to react. Kicking a nearby guard aside with swift precision, she darted toward freedom.

“That woman’s with Lu!” a guard shouted. 

“She’s a spy! Don’t let her get away!”

“She threw the hidden weapon earlier! Stop her before she sends a message!”

Qun Qing clenched her fists, frustration and rage bubbling within her. In her mind, she had envisioned ending Lu Huating’s life more times than she could count. This was no accident; he had deliberately dragged her into the chaos. He wanted her to reveal herself, forcing her into the thick of his problems to split the attention of the pursuers.

She cursed under her breath. The battle was none of her business, but now she was ensnared in it, forced to defend herself. With no more stones left hidden in her sleeves, she quickly scanned the ground for anything she could turn into a weapon. Whatever she could grasp would have to do—there was no other choice.

Qun Qing found herself at a severe disadvantage, facing warriors much stronger than her. She could kick them away briefly, but they remained standing, like immovable trees in a storm. The pursuers were relentless, pulling at her skirts and headscarf, dragging her down. Then, in a moment of desperation, someone leapt toward her, shielding her from the rain of blows.

It was Kuang Su. He used his body to protect her while the guards mercilessly beat him with clubs. His eyes, bloodshot and filled with pain, locked onto hers. 

“Master said I should die first,” he murmured through the haze of agony. “You’ll be fine.”

Qun Qing, her senses heightened, began counting the blows. When the tenth strike landed, she made her move. With swift precision, she reached for the dagger at Kuang Su’s waist. Drawing the blade, she channeled all her strength and thrust it into the chest of the nearest guard. The man fell instantly, his body collapsing like a ragdoll.

Blood dripped from Kuang Su’s temples, and he was barely conscious. Qun Qing pushed him aside, her attention shifting to Lu Huating. He was trapped, thrown into a collapsed stall, wrestling with an opponent who wielded a silver dagger, its sharp edge aimed at his throat. Lu Huating clutched the blade with his bare hand, struggling to fend off the fatal blow.

In a fight like this, falling was the same as dying. 

Qun Qing’s vision blurred, the world around her filled with chaotic noise and violence. She forced herself to remain calm, trying to make sense of the madness. The black-clad guards were ruthless, tearing through the market like wild beasts, smashing stalls and trampling over the vendors who pleaded for mercy. 

Through the chaos, an idea struck her like lightning.

Qun Qing clenched her jaw, her veins bulging in her neck as she mustered her voice, shouting with all her might:

“Blow the bone whistle!”

Her voice cut through the air like a blade. For a moment, there was stillness. Then, as if in response to her command, a sharp, shrill whistle rang out. The child who had bought the snacks, along with several women, blew on their bone whistles, the sound reverberating through the marketplace.

One whistle after another, the sound grew, rising like a chorus of sorrowful cries. The piercing wails shot through the sky like arrows.

The guards hesitated, their confusion palpable. They began looking around, uncertainty creeping into their movements. Some of them exchanged panicked glances, clearly unsure of what to do next.

The sudden transformation of the townspeople caught the guards completely off guard. They had expected the crowd to stay compliant, but instead, they were met with cold, resolute stares from above. From the second floor of nearby buildings, especially Lingxin Ji, the proprietress poured a bucket of water down onto the guards. At the same time, the steady sound of drums echoed from every corner of the West Market, sending signals to the farthest reaches of the area.

The guards were unnerved. Cowhide drums, placed at strategic locations, began to beat in unison, their resonance spreading like a warning. Panic began to seep into the ranks of the black-clad men. Instinctively, they huddled closer together, forming a defensive circle. They hadn’t anticipated this reaction at all.

Then, from the surrounding buildings and down the official road, a flood of people surged toward them. They were workers, customers, vendors—armed with staffs, mops, and anything else they could grab. Their expressions were filled with fury and determination.

Leading the charge was an elderly man with a white beard, his gaze fiery as he shouted, 

“Last year, the Emperor set laws forbidding officials from disturbing the people of Chang’an! And now, what does Prince Yan want to do again? We welcomed peace, but the Prince’s forces trampled the two districts. It’s the Prince who betrayed our trust! Don’t blame us for standing against you!”

The townspeople roared in agreement. Ever since the last incident, the inner city had taken precautions. Women and children were given bone whistles as a form of signal, ready to rally in the face of danger. This day had come sooner than they thought, and the people responded swiftly.

The lead guard, clearly out of his depth, stammered, 

“Old man, we… we were just handling internal matters… we didn’t mean to harm anyone…”

But the elderly man’s fierce gaze didn’t waver. 

“Do you take us for fools? You handle your affairs, but when you ‘accidentally’ lay hands on our wives and children, we will fight you to the death!”

His words ignited the crowd further. The anger of the people was palpable. Sensing that the situation was spiraling beyond control, the lead guard blew his whistle, signaling his men to retreat. In a hurried scramble, the black-clad guards fled, ducking as vegetables, eggs, and straw were thrown at them from all sides.

As the commotion settled, the townspeople slowly dispersed, murmuring and cursing among themselves.

Meanwhile, Lu Huating stood amidst the chaos, his hands bloodied from catching the blade. Blood dripped from his fingers like crimson beads, glistening in the light. Jian Su, shaken by the intensity of the moment, bowed his head in deep apology. 

“Master,” he muttered, his voice filled with remorse, “I have failed in my duty.”

Lu Huating’s face remained unreadable, showing no sign of concern over his injury, even though the blood from his hand seeped through the makeshift bandage. He tossed the torn belt of his fallen opponent to Jian Su without a second thought.

“The belt came off,” he said casually, prompting a faint smile from Jian Su. Grabbing the belt, Jian Su stretched his neck, feeling a sense of relief. 

“Luckily, Master left some evidence. How’s your hand? If you’re seriously injured, His Highness won’t spare me!”

Lu Huating briefly examined Jian Su’s bruised face and, seeing that it was just a minor injury, gave him a light push. 

“Go check the shops that were damaged.”

Without dwelling on his own wound, Lu Huating tore a piece of his sleeve and wrapped it around his bleeding hand. He had been through countless fights, encountering bandits in the mountains and more—this was nothing new to him. As bright red blood continued to seep through the fabric, he stood quietly, deep in thought.

Was Meng Guan Lou this unhinged in his past life? He pondered the thought, his mind clouded by memories.

Just then, a figure resembling a bloodthirsty wolf dashed back toward him. It was Jian Su, holding a delicate jasmine flower. He held it out to Lu Huating, almost as if it were a trophy. 

“I was protecting that lady; we made it to the river, and she picked this flower. Then she disappeared!”

Lu Huating stared at the flower, incredulous. 

“What is wrong with you? First, you get distracted by snacks, and now you steal someone’s flower.”

“I didn’t steal it!” Jian Su protested, stomping his foot so hard it seemed the ground might crack. It took a moment for Lu Huating to realize that Jian Su had merely followed Qun Qing to the river and picked a flower just like she did.

“Come here.” Lu Huating motioned to Jian Su and used a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his head. After examining the wound and seeing no visible bone, he handed the handkerchief to him. His voice, though calm, carried a subtle reprimand. 

“She didn’t disappear—you just lost track of her. She shook you off on purpose. If she’s in the mood to pick flowers, stop following her. Pushing it any further would be improper.”

Jian Su hesitated, trying to grasp the situation, before finally blurting out, 

“But my fish token is with her.”

Lu Huating sighed, his frustration evident.

Lingfu Temple was bustling with activity, the courtyard filled with people coming and going. It was said that Qun Qing had entered through these very doors, blending seamlessly into the crowd of believers and onlookers in the grand hall.

Upon entering the temple, Lu Huating’s eyes were drawn to the statue of Avalokiteshvara. He bowed respectfully before the figure, his thoughts lingering on Qun Qing and the chaotic events that had just unfolded.

Lu Huating sat quietly, his collar torn and his dark hair in disarray, yet his face remained composed and striking. Despite the bloodstains on his clothes, his appearance could have easily belonged to a refined scholar from the Wei-Jin period, drawing the admiring gazes of the women who had come to pray. Rumors circulated that he had once been a disciple of the Buddhist sect, which only added to his mystique. Even Jian Su and the others dared not neglect their bows as they followed suit before the statue of Avalokiteshvara.

At the foot of the statue lay a treasure chest meant for merit offerings, surrounded by lost trinkets—bracelets, hairpins, and other items dropped by incense-burners. Among them, unnoticed by most, was a wilted jasmine flower, lying on a plain white silk handkerchief.

Jian Su noticed it too and hissed, wiping his wound, 

“Who comes here looking for a flower? It’s not even a silk one.”

Lu Huating’s gaze lingered on the handkerchief. Bending down, he lifted it to find Jian Su’s fish token and two gold beads nestled underneath. Jian Su stared, incredulous. 

“How could she just leave her things here? And why not take the gold beads?”

Lu Huating tossed the fish token back to Jian Su with a slight smirk. 

“You were outmatched, don’t waste your breath.”

He knew Qun Qing’s ways well enough by now. She wasn’t one to leave debts unpaid, evident from the two boxes of snacks she had taken earlier. She was sharp, and as a spy from Kingdom of Chu, no doubt she feared that he might search for her in the palace.

With that thought, Lu Huating dropped the two gold beads, along with the rest he had hidden in his sleeve, into the merit chest, where they clinked cheerfully.

“If it weren’t for that lady today, we might not have escaped,” Jian Su mused, bowing once more to Avalokiteshvara. “But who knows her true background? What if she’s connected to someone important in the palace?”

Lu Huating, now sitting on the threshold with his long legs stretched out, seemed unconcerned. 

“How’s the assessment of the damage to the shops going? You should worry about the reputation of Prince Yan’s manor first.”

“They weren’t even people from Prince Yan’s manor! If they’re behaving like this, does the law even matter anymore?” Jian Su’s frustration was palpable.

“And who can prove it?” Lu Huating asked nonchalantly.

“We were both there. We saw it all,” Jian Su muttered angrily, tossing his belt to the ground. 

“But our words hold no weight.”

Lu Huating picked up the discarded belt and dusted it off calmly. 

“The townsfolk have eyes and ears of their own. They’ll believe what they saw, not what you say. But if that woman really is a palace maid, isn’t that in our favor? If I don’t drag her into this, who’s going to testify for us?”

Jian Su gaped in surprise. After a long pause, he asked, 

“But Master, how can you be sure she has a backup plan? What if she’s as trapped as we are?”

“I don’t know,” Lu Huating said, his gaze drifting toward the fading evening light outside the temple. His tone was vague. 

“If not… what a pity.”

He had counted on Qun Qing being an important player, assuming that the spies lurking in Chang’an would intervene to save her before she got into real danger. They would have revealed themselves, saving him the trouble of a slow investigation. But now, it seemed she had managed to slip away on her own.

Lu Huating’s thoughts lingered on her. She knew about the bone whistle, a signal of unity among the common people, something a palace maid wouldn’t ordinarily know. She had a special connection to the people of Chang’an and held deep sentiment for them. 

He couldn’t help but compare her to himself—she was someone who likely grew up in the prosperous and vibrant city of Chang’an, while he had come from the desolate mountains, with a heart as cold as the wild waters that surrounded him.

Jian Su, noticing Lu Huating holding the silk handkerchief left behind by Qun Qing, hesitated before reaching for it. But as he did, Lu Huating tightened his grip, leaving Jian Su empty-handed. The soft fabric felt cool and delicate in his palm, like grasping a piece of cloud. Without another word, he tucked the handkerchief into his sleeve and stood up.

“Let’s go,” he said, leading the way out of the temple.

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