After Rebirth, I Married my Archenemy - Chapter 51

Through the red veil, Qun Qing couldn’t clearly see the expressions of the crowd, but she knew they were watching her.

The only piece she had learned was Little Pine, but even this beginner’s tune she had practiced for only a few days when she was six before her mother stopped her.

Her mother had said that playing the qin, singing and dancing—these entertainments for women—were unnecessary for her to learn. If she had spare time, it was better spent on embroidery.

Thus, she returned to the cramped and stifling embroidery room, threading needles with tears in her eyes as she listened to the rain falling outside the window.

Now, hearing the familiar melody, Qun Qing noticed that Lu Huating’s qin skills had reached a level of unfamiliar mastery. So this was what Little Pine sounded like when perfected—like clear spring water striking stone, reminiscent of the rain from that day.

Cui Zhu, with a look of veiled mockery, took a sip of wine. But he saw Qun Qing move; her sleeves and skirt spread out like ink blooming on paper.

Though untrained in dance, Qun Qing’s martial arts provided a common ground. She subtly altered fighting moves into graceful motions. With each turn and raised arm, her flowing garments carried a sharp wind, instantly drawing everyone’s attention.

Her skirt swirled, and Lu Huating noticed the delicate and flexible curve of her waist—it could handle a whirlwind. Forced by the situation, he had to look at her, watching her slender fingers gradually climb up the curtain, like a light smoke that took someone’s life.

It was not the first time that Lu Huating was distracted in a tight situation. In a fleeting instant, he was caught in an illusion, imagining that hand gripping a peachwood doll in pain.

A sudden, sharp twang jolted them back to reality. The three turned their heads in shock—Lu Huating’s forefinger bled, the string of his qin snapped. He sighed in regret, 

“It seems today is not suitable for playing music.”

Cui Zhu, knowing it was deliberate, sneered coldly, 

“Well, don’t just stand there—replace this shoddy instrument.”

Wenniang hurriedly came to retrieve the qin, but Qun Qing tore the hanging red veil aside with a dramatic flourish.

She approached the table and bowed to the varied expressions of the crowd. 

“Ordinary dances are not my strength. Allow me to perform a sword dance for your lordships.”

Lu Huating froze, staring at Qun Qing. Her gaze flicked briefly toward the window, signaling: 

The pursuers are here, right below the window; we must act now—there’s no time to negotiate.

Qun Qing’s eyes then studied Cui Zhu, whose intense focus on her face revealed a twitch in his cheek. He did not object, and she knew she had gambled correctly.

Official Qin, uneasy, looked anxiously at General Ningyuan and Lu Huating. Before he could speak, there was a clatter as the general shouted, 

“What are you doing?” Off guard due to his age, he couldn’t stop Lu Huating from seizing his sword.

Lu Huating tossed the sword onto the table. 

“I’ve never seen someone dance with a sword before. General Ningyuan conveniently has one—how interesting.”

“Cui Zhu!” General Ningyuan fumed.

“General, why the distrust toward a lady from my establishment?” Cui Zhu smiled at Qun Qing with a nostalgic air. “It’s been many years since I’ve seen someone dance with a sword, too.”

Qun Qing admired Lu Huating’s quick thinking. Her hasty decision to act prematurely had delivered the room’s only sword into her hands.

As she reached for the weapon, Lu Huating pressed two fingers lightly against it, his gaze as warm as a spring breeze. 

“Be careful. Swordplay is dangerous; don’t hurt anyone.”

“I’ll retreat behind the veil to perform,” Qun Qing smiled faintly. “No harm will come to the advisor.”

Noticing her composure, Lu Huating released the blade.

General Ningyuan, observing her struggle to lift the sword, looked disdainful. If she dared to try anything, her thin arms and legs would easily be overpowered. He could wrest the sword from her and slit her throat in one swift move.

Qun Qing’s lips curled in a smile as her sleeves rose sharply. The sword danced between her hands, flowing through the air like a startled swan. Her earlier clumsiness vanished, replaced by lethal precision.

General Ningyuan’s expression shifted. It wasn’t surprising that she knew martial arts, but her moves bore a sinister familiarity—like those meant for close combat assassinations.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, a gust brushed his face, and darkness enveloped his vision. A crisp shattering sound rang in his ears.

Qun Qing had cut through the veil, flinging it toward the crowd, blinding them momentarily as it knocked over a wine cup.

The veil descended like a giant hand from the heavens, casting an eerie dread. Screams from two musicians filled the room. By the time they freed themselves from the tangled fabric, several warriors had stormed in, pinning hands to the table.

From behind, Qun Qing held a blade to Cui Zhu’s throat. Its cold gleam pressed against his skin.

“Advisor Lu, isn’t this lady your companion?” Official Qin exclaimed in shock. The negotiations hadn’t even begun, and a courtesan had already made the first move.

“I’ve treated the lady well,” Lu Huating feigned calmness despite being restrained. “Who sent you to act this way?”

Before he could finish, the guard holding him smashed his head against the table. Official Qin’s lips trembled.

“Thank you, Advisor, for bringing me in.” Qun Qing’s voice was steady and flat. “But in my eyes, you corrupt officials are all the same. Cui Zhu has tormented the people, and not all civilians are cowards—someone will bring justice.”

She turned her attention to Cui Zhu. 

“You know why I’m here. Hand over the real ledger.”

Cui Zhu, restrained and awkwardly positioned, responded, 

“Lady, loosen your grip, and I’ll retrieve it.”

From his garments, he produced a ledger, his eyes betraying no fear but casting a meaningful glance toward the window.

On the rooftop opposite, black-clad figures lay in wait, crossbows aimed at Qun Qing. But her position behind Cui Zhu prevented them from taking action.

Confidently prepared, Cui Zhu had anticipated this scenario. That Qun Qing wasn’t Lu Huating’s person was intriguing. It explained their awkward pretenses of familiarity.

But it didn’t matter. As Cui Zhu handed her the ledger, he noted the faint fragrance on her—a pity this delicate beauty would soon become a bloodied corpse.

“Open it,” Qun Qing demanded, her tone flat yet tense. She cross-referenced the contents with the memorized details in her mind.

After scanning two pages, she tightened her grip, drawing blood from Cui Zhu’s neck. 

“Fake.”

Pain flushed Cui Zhu’s face as his blood soaked into his robes. Shocked, he touched his warm, flowing blood—she dared to cut him. Though prepared for death, the fear of its approach was unbearable.

Qun Qing sensed his labored breathing quicken, like a fish flailing out of water. Controlling him was becoming harder.

Why hadn’t the crossbowmen fired?

Atop the roof, Jian Su had silently disposed of the bowmen, slipping into their place, only to freeze in shock.

In the darkness across the way, four or five figures descended silently from the roof of the Siye Tower using ropes. These newcomers moved swiftly and with precision, clearly not easy opponents to deal with.

Suddenly, Jian Su was yanked down with immense force. He turned his head, his face stricken with terror, as he and his assailant quickly became entangled in combat. Just before falling off the eaves with shattered tiles, Jian Su managed to release a warning signal arrow.

The arrow flew into the side room, urging Qun Qing to speed up. She had already instructed Cui Zhu to open the second ledger. This one seemed to match the records, but Cui Zhu’s seal was unfamiliar to her, making her hesitate. Wenniang, who had been peering over the ledger, suddenly let out a sob.

Qun Qing’s eyelashes trembled—Cui Zhu’s wily nature proved this ledger was also a fake.

Nearby, General Ningyuan, a man of action, saw Qun Qing’s hesitation. With a roar, he broke free from the guards restraining him, snatched the ledger from Qun Qing’s hands, and threw it straight out of the window.

As the ledger fluttered like a butterfly before plunging into the courtyard pool, General Ningyuan allowed himself a faint, weary smile. However, his smile quickly froze.

He toppled backward like a collapsing tower, revealing a bloodied hole in his chest, his body convulsing.

The moment the intruders smashed through the windows from the eaves, the side room fell silent. They wore black robes and heavy masks, with blood dripping ominously from their long swords.

Behind Lu Huating, Zhu Su, who had been pretending to restrain him, immediately released him and pulled him behind for protection. The assassins were identified as death warriors—unwavering killers with no regard for their lives, intent on murder and seizing goods. Their target was evidently Cui Zhu.

The shadows of the intruders fell across Cui Zhu’s face, turning it deathly pale.

In an instant, the room descended into chaos.

Murderous intent filled the air as Lu Huating deflected a sword with his guqin, while Wenniang picked up her pipa and smashed it over an attacker. The people Qun Qing had “brought” with her were quickly locked in battle with the death warriors, attempting to hold them off. Amidst the fight, amidst anguished cries, Official  Qin collapsed in a pool of blood, clutching his abdomen, as no one was left to guard him.

Zhu Su sustained three sword wounds on his face. When he heard Lu Huating shout, 

“Hold them off and let Lady Qing escape!” 

he couldn’t help but exclaim, “Huh? Why not let you go first and leave Lady Qing here?”

Lu Huating turned to look at him, his gaze icy.

His eyes barely lingered on Zhu Su’s face before shifting back to Qun Qing.

If Cui Zhu died, the real ledger would be lost forever. Thus, Qun Qing hoisted Cui Zhu up and shielded him behind her, focusing on fending off the death warriors. She disarmed one, kicking him away, only to be forced back by another.

Cui Zhu, weak and losing blood, took advantage of her preoccupation with the fight to crawl away slowly, staggering out of the room.

Zhu Su pinned down one of the assassins and shouted, 

“Lady, the advisor told you to go first!”

Amid the glint of swords, Qun Qing met Lu Huating’s gaze. His pale skin bore a striking scar, making his face eerily beautiful. His expression was calm, even tinged with amusement.

Without hesitation, she turned and left. Yet, the image lingered in her mind, spurring her to quicken her pace as she silently followed Cui Zhu.

In her mind, she recalled their earlier conversation:

Qun Qing: “Advisor, do you think there’s a way to seize it through deception?”

Lu Huating: “Cui Zhu is like a frightened bird. At this stage, mere words won’t sway him.”

Qun Qing: “Then we’ll have to take it by force. But if he’s determined to die and take us down with him, we’re risking everything in vain.”

Lu Huating: “Determined to die? No one truly wishes for death. If you don’t believe me, test him.”

Qun Qing: “I can pressure him, but I don’t want to act rashly. He knows full well that as long as he doesn’t reveal the ledger’s whereabouts, we won’t let him die. He’s cunning and overconfident, so he won’t yield to my threats.”

Lu Huating: “We may not want to kill him, but others might.”

Qun Qing: “You mean… the Meng family?”

Lu Huating: “The Meng family has clearly made their move in recent days. Cui Zhu knows Meng Guangshen well; he’ll act more ruthlessly than us. Here’s the plan: make Cui Zhu experience the torment of being on the brink of death, then let him linger in dread, waiting for the end. Even the toughest will crumble under such pressure, and the truth will surface.” 

Qun Qing: “If the Meng family is also vying for it, how can you and I possibly win?”

Lu Huating smiled faintly at her: “Aren’t you quite capable? It’s all thanks to your skills.”

Cui Zhu clutched his neck, staggering amidst the swirl of singing and dancing courtesans, using their movements to obscure himself.

Ironically, while chaos erupted inside, the guests outside laughed and reveled, blissfully unaware of the events unfolding in Siye Tower that night.

Blood loss made his head spin, his legs trembling beneath him. Instinct pushed him toward a door—Courtesan’s room. His mind, fogged by the wine he had drunk earlier for courage, now felt ready to collapse, the alcohol turning into cold sweat soaking his body. Desperation gripped him as he searched the room, pulling an account book and some silver coins hidden under the quilt and stuffing them into his arms.

He knew an escape route. As long as he held the true account book, his life might still be spared, giving him a chance to survive.

Just then, he felt an icy chill as a slender shadow appeared on the ground before him.

Turning, he saw her.

Qun Qing stood in the doorway, silent as a ghost, a knife catching the dim light in her hand.

Her cold eyes locked onto him, and she stepped forward slowly, each step deliberate and menacing. Cui Zhu’s knees gave out as fear crushed him. In his terrified mind, her face shifted—first into Lady Chun’s, then into other women’s faces, all filled with anger and blame. Finally, it became the face of a girl he had once admired when he was sixteen. She was the sword-dancer he had fallen for, bold and proud, her brows always lifted with defiance.

He remembered how she had rejected him, scorning his low status. He had repaid her with cruelty, hiring someone to kill her as he used Siye Tower to expand his ambitions. Back then, his pride had shielded him from guilt or fear. But now, terror surged through him. In his mind, the girl smiled cruelly and stabbed him in the chest with a blade. Her voice seemed to echo in his ears:

“Cui Lang, we finally have our revenge.”

Cui Zhu collapsed, clutching his chest in pain, only to realize that Qun Qing had not moved at all. He had been struck from behind by a crossbow bolt shot through the window.

Moments before, Qun Qing had moved to the window’s blind spot. When she saw him fall, she quickly grabbed the account book he had dropped. As Cui Zhu crawled weakly, he reached out and clutched at her skirt, mumbling something incoherent.

She froze, trying to steady herself, and shoved the fake ledger into his arms. As she hesitated to deliver a finishing blow, she heard him murmur, 

“I’m sorry.”

Her hand trembled, the knife lowering as his grip on her skirt loosened. He looked up at her, his voice rasping as he clung to the fake account book. With his final breath, he said, 

“Give it to… the Emperor…”

When the death warriors crashed in through the window, the room was silent. Cui Zhu lay lifeless on the floor, clutching the silver and the account book close to his chest.

“Found it.”

One of the death warriors searched his body, retrieved the account book, and checked it carefully. Satisfied, they slipped out to report back.