After Rebirth, I Married my Archenemy - Chapter 66

Lu Huating’s smile faded, and the deep, inky darkness in his eyes startled Cui Yu.

“Advisor,” he stood up, only to be stopped by Xiao Yunru’s voice. 

“Lady Qing discussed this with me beforehand. By now, she must already have left the city. There’s no need for you to investigate.”

She continued speaking, but Lu Huating no longer needed to listen.

The palace maids carrying flowers, Zheng Zhiyi’s unusual behavior—these details connected in his mind, revealing the entire story.

This was Qun Qing and Xiao Yunru’s arrangement.

Zheng Zhiyi was aware of this as well. She wasn’t opposing Xiao Yunru; they were helping her.

Back when Qun Qing went to visit her family during the Yuan Festival, he should have realized that someone planning to die in the palace wouldn’t visit their relatives outside the palace.

No, that wasn’t right. From the moment she abandoned Princess Bao’an and chose to go to Qingxuan Pavilion, she had already begun preparing to leave the palace.

“Advisor, you want something to hold against me, why are you in such a hurry?”

“After all, I can’t run away.”

…

In this round, he had lost.

Lu Huating asked, “Where did she go after leaving the city?”

“She’s gone to marry,” Xiao Yunru replied. “Presumably, she’s now far from Chang’an. Without bloodshed, the Advisor should understand—Lady Qing’s departure was her wish. It’s good for both of us.”

Her underlying meaning was clear: he shouldn’t stir up further trouble.

Lu Huating understood the logic. He fell silent for a moment, his gaze shifting to the physician checking Xiao Yunru’s pulse and administering acupuncture. The physician’s expression was stiff, his forehead beaded with sweat, as though he’d discovered something unusual but dared not speak.

Xiao Yunru remained calm. “Pregnancy and childbirth are matters between husband and wife. The details are for me and Sanlang to discuss. Now that Prince Zhao has returned and will handle garrison affairs alongside Sanlang, Prince Yan’s estate is facing turbulent times. Advisor, do not concern yourself with matters of the inner court—focus on state affairs instead.”

She seemed to have her own unspoken troubles. Lu Huating had no desire to pry, merely instructing the physician not to harm Princess Yan’s health before leaving the inner hall in quick strides.

The palace’s interconnected eaves stretched endlessly. It was afternoon, the time for nobles’ midday rest. A few palace maids carrying trays passed by. Lu Huating brushed past them, his gaze briefly sweeping over their unfamiliar faces before turning forward.

He would never see that face again.

“Go to the infirmary and check if the medical clinic we visited is still open,” he instructed Jian Su, who had followed him.

By evening, Jian Su returned with news: 

“It’s indeed closed. That young physician has also left. I asked the neighbors one by one, but none knew where he went.”

A pile of official documents had already accumulated on Lu Huating’s desk. The lamp illuminated his handsome profile, still appearing casual, though his reading pace was noticeably slower than usual.

Setting her fiancé ablaze in the morning, then eloping with him in the afternoon—so, that young physician truly was her most cherished lover.

Lu Huating suddenly asked, “Can a man marry before coming of age?”

“Not in Chang’an, it seems…” Jian Su replied, “But in remote rural areas, they probably don’t have such rules.”

Standing nearby, Zhu Su couldn’t help but interject, “Should we pursue them?”

“If they used permits from the Ministry of Revenue, following those permits would allow us to catch up. There’s still time to bring her back.”

Behind the wide desk, Lu Huating remained silent. After a moment, he smiled faintly. “Exhausting all efforts is like wading through a mire or walking with a torch in the night—what good comes of it? She’s free now. I should congratulate her.”

Jian Su and Zhu Su exchanged a glance, falling silent. The only sound was the wind against the window frames.

Then came a woman’s sharp voice outside: 

“What’s wrong with wanting to tour Sanlang’s estate? I’ve been sitting in that sedan chair for so long that my legs are numb. Is this how Lu Qilang treats his guests? Why am I not allowed in?”

A palace maid rushed in to report, 

“Advisor, Princess Danyang is here.”

Lu Huating dipped his brush in ink and smiled. 

“Tell the Princess that I’m in a bad mood today. I don’t even want a mosquito flying in, let alone guests.”

He looked up, and someone entered his study. Su Run, dressed in white, appeared nervous, summoning his courage to perform a formal civil servant’s salute. 

“Subordinate Scholar Su Run greets the Advisor.”

Su Run glanced back hesitantly. 

“It was I who invited the Princess to accompany me. Please, don’t blame her. I came today for two reasons. First, to express my gratitude for the Advisor’s life-saving grace.”

“Gratitude misplaced, isn’t it?” Lu Huating, noticing Su Run’s recent promotion, smirked. “I never intended to save you.”

Su Run froze momentarily before producing a small wooden box from his sleeve, placing it on the desk. “Lady Qing’s kindness is something I can never repay. She entrusted me with this and asked me to personally deliver it to the Advisor.”

Lu Huating fixed his gaze on the box. A premonition stirred as he looked at Su Run. So many admirers she had, all of whom she’d made arrangements for—yet she left without a word to him.

He had assumed she wouldn’t leave even a single message.

He had truly been played by Qun Qing, and now, all he could do was hold his breath and await his own sentence.

“She said she’s done fighting. The mountains are high, the rivers long—she asks the Advisor to take care of himself.”

The smile faded from Lu Huating’s face once again.

He didn’t even notice when Su Run and Princess Danyang left. Pushing open the box’s lid, a refreshing fragrance filled the air. Inside lay half of a sliced pill.

Jian Su murmured, “Why is there only half?”

The other half was likely given to Li Xuan.

Lu Huating glanced at it with a cold sneer before closing the box and setting it aside. 

“Call the court physician.”

The physician entered the hall. Lu Huating slid the wooden box toward him. 

“Examine this pill. Is it poisonous?”

The physician was just about to inspect it when Lu Huating abruptly said, 

“Never mind.”

To everyone’s shock, he picked up the half-pill and swallowed it.

He then pushed open the window. The damp wind tousled his jet-black hair.

Outside, the heavy rain poured, countless droplets falling into the endless night, disappearing without a trace.

He braced himself for the onset of excruciating pain from the poison, but instead felt the pill dissolve within him, transforming into a faint fragrance that spread through his chest. The sensation rose gently, soothing the pain at his temples.

Rain poured down relentlessly. The physician and the shadow guards stood behind him in anxious silence. Yet, nothing happened.

She had truly given him the antidote.

Qun Qing had truly left.

“Bring me a guqin,” he said.

Lu Huating rarely played the guqin. The instrument’s strings were covered in a thick layer of dust, which he carefully wiped clean with a plain cloth before sitting by the window with the guqin in his arms. He paid no mind to the raindrops splashing against him as he played. The sound of flowing water intertwined with the rain, blending into an indistinct melody.

That night, he had a dream.

In the dream, Qun Qing walked beside him, carrying a lantern. They kept a measured distance between them. When he was about to leave, Qun Qing said, 

“Let’s part ways at the bridge.”

So they crossed the bridge, and Qun Qing said, 

“Let’s part ways after passing through the woods.”

They silently traversed the woods, and Qun Qing added, 

“Let’s part ways at De Lin Hall.”

And so they walked on, step by step, through different places.

This time, he waited for her to speak, hoping she would. But Qun Qing vanished, leaving him alone to wander in endless darkness.

…

Lu Huating pressed his hand against the strings, silencing the guqin. 

“I’ll give her three days to escape.”

Jian Su thought to himself, three days—enough time for a boat to reach Jiangnan.

The cargo ship began to sway violently due to the evening downpour.

Qun Qing hadn’t eaten much for an entire day and night. The rocking of the ship made her discomfort even worse, leaving her unable to rest.

Fang Xie embraced her from behind. 

“Sister, I gave some silver to the workers on the ship and secured a vacant spot where you can lie down and rest for a while. It might help.”

Qun Qing agreed. The two moved cautiously through the rocking ship, supporting each other until they reached the workers’ quarters.

At this hour, the workers hadn’t retired for the night. Shirtless and gathered in small groups, they were playing dice or cards, shouting and laughing as if accustomed to the ship’s constant motion. A wine vendor roamed among them, selling his wares. Some bought his wine, while others dismissed him.

Qun Qing noticed several pairs of eyes lingering on her neck and figure.

She had not disguised herself, still dressed as a young woman. It was obvious there were no other women on the ship, which was entirely crewed by men.

However, their gazes quickly turned wary and withdrew.

Qun Qing glanced over her shoulder but saw nothing unusual. Perhaps her seasickness dulled her senses. All she could see was Fang Xie’s jaw as he held her more securely. 

“Sister, what are you looking at?”

“I want to buy some wine,” she said, enduring her dizziness. “I’m worried I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

The wine vendor’s ears perked up, and he approached her immediately.

Qun Qing caught a familiar scent, like countless flower petals drifting before her eyes. 

“Floating Tang Reflecting Snow.”

“Ah, the lady has refined taste! This is Jiangnan wine. Not many in Chang’an know of Floating Tang Reflecting Snow,” the vendor said, overjoyed. “But the wine is very strong. Are you sure—”

Qun Qing was already pulling out her money.

She wanted something strong.

Fang Xie hesitated briefly while watching her choose, but as a physician, he surprisingly didn’t stop her. Instead, he took the wine pouch for her. 

“It’s fine. A little drunkenness might help you sleep. I’ll wake you when the sun rises.”

Fang Xie lifted the oiled curtain to reveal an unexpectedly clean and spacious spot. Qun Qing sat down, uncorked the wine pouch, and drank half of it in one go.

The fiery liquid blazed through her body.

The fragrance lingered at her nose, bringing vivid memories to her mind—spinning lanterns, udumbara flowers, soaring dragon dances, and oranges rolling on the ground.

The most dangerous and dazzling colors she had ever seen were now left behind in the waters of Jiangnan, along with Chang’an itself. All that remained was this fragrance, clinging to her.

As her consciousness faded, so did her nausea and discomfort. She vaguely felt Fang Xie settle her on the bed and cover her with a blanket. He brushed her hair away from her face and seemed to gaze at her for a long time.

Qun Qing drifted off into a brief but deep sleep. When she awoke, her mind was clear, and she could hear her surroundings—the sound of breathing, the rustle of clothes, and even a distant cough.

What was going on with this Floating Tang Reflecting Snow?

She was puzzled. Why did Lu Huating favor this wine? Even when drunk, one didn’t pass out but instead remained lucid.

She lay quietly, taking it as a chance to rest.

Soon, she heard the oiled curtain being lifted again, followed by footsteps entering the room. These two individuals moved with practiced stealth, their footsteps light but still distinguishable to her. Her heart tightened. If they harbored ill intentions, Fang Xie wouldn’t be able to handle them alone.

“This ship is under our control now. Please rest assured, Your Highness,” one of them said softly.

The other replied, “However, we’ve yet to find the corpse of Physician Li.”

Then, Qun Qing heard a voice she would never forget—Fang Xie’s voice, low and indifferent, coming from right beside her. 

“If you can’t find it, leave it be. Let’s return first and report to Zen Master later.”