After Transmigrating into a Novel, I Turned on Easy Mode - Chapter 8

After the failed assassination, Jiang Hong slipped away along back alleys, evading the many soldiers searching for her.

A fierce pain throbbed in her chest; she couldn’t help a low grunt. Bl00d beaded at the corner of her mouth—she wiped it away carelessly with her sleeve.

Dusk had fallen—perfect time to run. Today’s kill had been reckless: going alone was courting death. Fortunately she knew the capital’s layout well, and her escape went smoothly.

Studying her surroundings with care, Jiang Hong crept toward the city gate. The guards there were doubled from usual; getting out would be harder than before.

Seeing soldiers thick on the walls and at the gate, her heart tightened with anxiety.

A carriage approached from a distance. Jiang Hong’s eyes lit. As it drew alongside, she sprang and hid beneath the chassis.

The gate guards stopped the carriage to inspect it.

From under the carriage she heard the exchange and learned it belonged to the Yongding Marquisate—going out of the city to pick someone up, it seemed.

None of that mattered. No matter which household it belonged to, as long as it carried her beyond the gates, she could get home safely.

Thinking of the person waiting at home, who likely hadn’t heard the attempt had failed, she grew more anxious and wished the carriage would hurry. Perhaps her wish was too strong—inspection done, the carriage rolled toward the countryside.

After some distance, Jiang Hong tucked and rolled to the ground. The sudden motion tugged her wound and drew a hiss from her lips.

Clutching her chest, she limped off in another direction.

She didn’t notice the carriage pulled up not long after she bailed. A black-clad elder lifted the curtain, peered the way Jiang Hong had gone, and then gave chase.

Jiang Hong ran while scanning for danger. Confirming nothing unusual behind her, she headed the right way. Far ahead stood a shabby little house; warm yellow candlelight glowed on the window—striking in the night.

She knocked lightly. A beautiful woman opened and ushered her in.

They packed in haste, planning to flee the capital under cover of darkness. But just as they emerged from the trees, a carriage stood by the road—the very one from before. A bad feeling stabbed Jiang Hong.

Wind slapped her nape. Before she could react, pain lanced her neck; the world went black.

Yungu was the black-clad elder. After knocking the pair out, she hauled them into the carriage and drove back toward the city.

In a secret room, Zhao Qingzi smiled at the two women trussed like zongzi on the floor. They hadn’t yet woken. Yungu stood behind her, face unreadable.

“They sleep soundly. Yungu, wake them.”

A bucket of water later, both came to. Jiang Hong held up well, but the beauty beside her fared worse, shivering as if frozen through.

Feeling the tremors, Jiang Hong grew anxious. “Yuer, are you all right?”

“S-so cold.”

Jiang Hong’s heart twisted, but her bound hands and feet couldn’t move. She lifted furious eyes to the woman above. The wheelchair—and the Yongding Marquisate’s carriage—told her all she needed.

“Zhao Qingzi!!”

Zhao Qingzi propped her cheek in one hand, smiling still—but the smile never reached her eyes. She answered lazily, “Good guess. Clever of you.”

To think she’d fall to the capital’s famous cripple—Jiang Hong was shocked and enraged, and helpless.

Her instincts screamed this woman wasn’t like the rumors—she was dangerous. A glance at the woman beside her, shaking with cold, made her grit her teeth. “I alone take responsibility for the assassination. Yuer is innocent. Let her go!”

“Innocent?”

As if the word itself amused her, Zhao Qingzi’s tone turned mocking. “Innocent or not aside—since when was the top courtesan of Zuihong House called Yuer? Isn’t that right… Liniang?”

Liniang’s face had already been pale; at that, she shrank further.

Jiang Hong hadn’t expected her to know so much. A worse feeling gathered in her gut. “Whatever her name, the assassination has nothing to do with her. Come for me if you must—let her go!”

Zhao Qingzi idly tapped a finger on the table, again and again, drumming on Jiang Hong’s heart. She shut her eyes as if she hadn’t heard.

“What do you want? If it’s merit you seek, turn me over to the authorities. Why drag others into it?”

Zhao Qingzi opened her eyes. “Is your head filled with nothing but such boring notions?”

Jiang Hong frowned. “Then what do you want? What’s your aim?”

Her aim? To punish you for hurting the one person you shouldn’t have. After the attempt, Zhao Qingzi had quietly ordered an investigation. To her surprise, the assassin turned out to be someone she’d once hired herself.

Because she’d never met Jiang Hong directly and had deliberately obscured her own identity to avoid trouble, subordinates had handled every detail of that aborted plan—Yungu hadn’t even shown her face.

Thanks to that prior cooperation, Zhao Qingzi easily traced Jiang Hong. In digging further, she discovered the recent scandal—the top courtesan’s elopement—was Jiang Hong’s doing too.

That sparked mischief. But Jiang Hong had hidden Liniang well; Zhao Qingzi couldn’t find her for a while. So she set this little snare to catch them both.

Her lips curved. She had Yungu wheel her up to Liniang, lifted the woman’s chin to force her to look up. Perhaps out of shame, Liniang turned her face aside.

“That face isn’t bad. No wonder you were the top card. I wonder if a few cuts will make you even more pitiably lovely.”

Her tone stayed light, as if discussing dinner.

Liniang trembled harder. Fire burned in Jiang Hong; bound, she could do nothing. Rope had already rubbed skin raw, and she didn’t care. She shouted hoarsely, “Take it out on me! What do you want! How have I offended you! Let her go!”

Zhao Qingzi flicked her hand and released Liniang’s chin, a teasing tilt to her smile. “Why shout so loud? Could it be there’s really something between you?”

From the investigation, it was clear: Jiang Hong had tried to kill the emperor for Liniang’s sake. Looking deeper, Liniang’s background proved to be that of a disgraced official’s daughter, Hu Yu.

Jiang Hong treated her differently—she was someone precious. For all that Zhao Qingzi went shy around Wu You, her insides hadn’t changed: harm her, and she’d repay you with the same coin.

Since Jiang Hong had hurt someone she cared about, Zhao Qingzi would take payback on Liniang—let Jiang Hong watch, helpless. Her expression then would be worth seeing.

Malice glinted in her eyes. Zhao Qingzi drew a dagger and traced it along Liniang’s cheek without cutting.

Rage seared Jiang Hong, but there was nothing she could do. She hurled curses to draw the fire to herself—to spare Yu’er. “Zhao Qingzi, you two-faced freak! You cripple!”

Zhao Qingzi listened with interest. “Go on.”

“You devil! No wonder someone like Wu You would fancy you. The two of you—a bully and a cripple—made for each other!”

Clink—the dagger slipped from Zhao Qingzi’s hand and hit the floor.

Why… did that make her a little happy…

Heat rushed to her face; she didn’t need a mirror to know it was red.

Seeing the fallen dagger and the flushed cheeks, Jiang Hong mistook the reason—thinking she’d struck a nerve. Delighted, she pressed the attack, believing Zhao Qingzi loathed Wu You. Comparing them must have enraged her, so—

“Hahaha! Only Wu You could suit the likes of you!”

“One’s stupid, one’s wicked—perfect pair, isn’t it!”

Zhao Qingzi clapped her hands over her ears. Her face felt aflame. No, no—compose yourself. Don’t lose it. Don’t!

“Your legs don’t work and she’s a martial artist—perfect! She can carry you everywhere! Wouldn’t that be nice!”

At that line, Zhao Qingzi couldn’t help it—she pictured Wu You carrying her. With her ears covered, her heartbeat thudded louder.

“Being held works too—look how helpless you are. She could scoop you up without breaking a sweat!”

Of course she could pick me up—she already has! Without meaning to, her mind replayed Tengyun Zhai: Wu You lifting her through the window, the faint herbal scent in Wu You’s arms.

Her head felt a little foggy, like tipsy wine. If her legs worked, she’d be swaying where she sat.

Jiang Hong drew breath to fling more barbs—when Yungu’s palm dropped her back into unconsciousness. Watching her young lady’s odd state, Yungu sighed inwardly. So—that was that. Miss had fallen completely for Wu You.

“Miss, what should be done with these two?”

Face still burning, Zhao Qingzi looked at the fainted Jiang Hong, then at trembling Liniang. Strangely, her desire to deal with them ebbed.

She waved a hand. “Take them away. Keep them secure. I’ll decide later.”

After Yungu removed them, the hall was empty but for Zhao Qingzi. She pressed a hand to her chest, breath quick and shallow.

Annoyance flickered in her eyes; she exhaled softly.

What is she doing right now, I wonder.