In the end, Luo Jiao still failed to escape halfway through.
Both feet were slashed to ribbons, and both legs refused to obey her. Even ordinary walking was precarious, let alone outrunning the four burly sedan bearers.
Donning the red bridal veil once more, Luo Jiao was helped into the courtyard of the Zou Manor.
The person supporting her spoke in soft, gentle tones: “Miss Xu, you know our Young Master Ah Bao… Young Master Ah Bao only burned his wits in a fever; he isn’t a bad person…”
Luo Jiao listened in silence, not replying.
Only at the corner of the corridor, when she bumped against a step, did she hiss out in pain: “Hss—”
The person supporting her immediately steadied her with deep concern, advising again, “Miss Xu, watch your step. Keep close to me.”
Luo Jiao only thought: this person’s touch was gentle, and her temper far too good. Though Luo Jiao hadn’t uttered a single word the entire way, the woman had chattered on this long without a shred of impatience.
Yet Luo Jiao dared not lower her guard.
She couldn’t be bothered to ask where this place was or the name of the man she was marrying; after all, since the original girl wanted to ‘run,’ then whether this in-law family was good or bad, rich or poor, had nothing to do with her.
Since she had taken over the girl’s body, Luo Jiao had to lend her a hand.
Yet a doubt still lingered.
This little girl said she wanted to ‘run,’ but where was she supposed to run to?
Inside the bridal sedan, Luo Jiao had strained to re-establish a connection with the girl, all to no avail.
She did not know where the girl’s home lay, nor where her heart yearned to go, much less what deeper meaning lay beneath this single word of an unfulfilled wish.
“Still, the current situation is truly an eyebrow-scorching emergency.”
Helped into the wing room, Luo Jiao had just sat down on a chair when the wooden door slammed shut with a heavy clatter.
She yanked off the red bridal veil. “Xu Liangdi? Xu Liangdi?”
The room was barren and empty, save for the tall red candles burning bright.
Silence filled the chamber.
“Fine. I’ll give you another incense stick of time. If you still won’t speak… ahem.” Luo Jiao faked a couple of coughs. “Then I’m taking matters into my own hands, all right?”
Inside, all remained silent.
Half the time passed.
Luo Jiao suddenly covered her mouth in shock. “…Don’t tell me you’re still stuck back in that sedan?”
Xu Liangdi still did not reply.
The words had barely fallen when Luo Jiao gave herself an exasperated rap on the knuckles. She always loathed her own ill-timed optimism—how did she still have the leisure to make such jokes?
Luo Jiao lowered her head.
Right now, these half-ruined feet alone were a massive problem.
In the past, Luo Jiao could circulate her qi and move with perfect freedom; but this Xu Liangdi was no Cultivator, lacking even the basic skills of breath regulation.
No Cultivation Method could be mastered in a matter of hours.
Cultivation Methods…
Luo Jiao rubbed her nose.
Xu Liangdi’s body wasn’t sturdy, and with her injured feet, brute force was out of the question. As for Luo Jiao herself, though she had slept far too long, in life she had at least been the master of the Unending Sword, standing above ten thousand. In her glory days, punching across the Southern Slopes and kicking across the Northern Rivers, hers had been an enviable station. When it came to attainments in Mind Arts, she was second to none.
A Mind Art that could be put to use right now, and one that this body could genuinely channel—Luo Jiao wasn’t at a complete loss.
—The Phantom Heart Art.
The Phantom Heart Art: as the name implied, it bewitched the human mind, bending it to one’s own service.
Those of shallow attainment could coax others to grant minor conveniences—running errands, handing over money, and the like; those of deep cultivation could construct Illusion Realms from the human heart, and even manifest those illusions upon reality itself.
Naturally, because it was far too sinister, long before Luo Jiao had ever descended the mountain, the ‘Phantom Heart Art’ had been strictly forbidden across the cultivation world.
But back then at Qianli Slope, the sect gates remained shut, and the Sanqing lineage paid no heed to worldly affairs. Luo Jiao hadn’t cared what rumors swirled outside; whatever esoteric tomes came her way, she read what should be read and learned what should be learned.
It wasn’t that Luo Jiao hadn’t considered using the Phantom Heart Art against these people. Back inside the bridal sedan, she had already tried it on the burly man nearest her.
Unfortunately, the brute hadn’t spared her a glance, and Xu Liangdi feared these men so terribly that the mere thought of speaking or interacting triggered instinctive resistance in the body. Furthermore, Luo Jiao’s vital energy was severely depleted, incapable of overcoming Xu Liangdi’s inner panic… and so, Luo Jiao’s Phantom Heart Art had collapsed halfway through.
While she was fretting with furrowed brows, Luo Jiao suddenly caught a sound.
Rustle, rustle, rustle… like cloth dragging across the floor.
Snapping her head up, she saw, pressed against the window lattice outside, a fat, ugly face smiling foolishly at her!
Experienced and worldly as Luo Jiao fancied herself, she was still scared half to death in that instant.
To say nothing of the man’s ungodly ugliness, just that vacant look, paired with such a thick, elaborate wedding robe…
Luo Jiao reflexively clutched the red veil on the seat, asking warily, “Are you… Young Master Zou?”
Seeing her look over, the man’s face twisted into an even more grotesque smile. “Wife… new mother…”
Luo Jiao had just knitted her brows when something struck her, and she slapped her forehead.
What had that momo supporting her said earlier? ‘Burned his wits in a fever’? Young Master?
Could it be…
Luo Jiao probed, “Are you an idiot?”
“Bride, little bride…” As if deaf to her words, the man before her merely repeated those syllables over and over: “My bride…”
His expression never shifted—vacant, foolish, like a madman.
But joy rushed to Luo Jiao’s brows.
She thought only: Wearing out iron shoes in a fruitless search, only to find it without any effort—
Wasn’t an idiot the absolute easiest target for the Phantom Heart Art!
“Where did Ah Bao go?”
In the main hall of the Zou Manor, several maidservants bustled about in a frantic panic. Everyone knew Madam Zou’s harsh temperament; when it came to matters concerning her son, she kept an extraordinarily sharp eye.
Three or five maids huddled to one side. Some said the young master had gone to the garden; some said he was hiding in his room; some claimed he was napping behind the rockery. Stories clashed every which way.
“Think carefully before you speak,” Madam Zou said expressionlessly. “Or you won’t be needing your tongues anymore.”
But they truly didn’t know where the young master had gone! He had clearly been staying quietly in his room—how had he vanished into thin air in the blink of an eye!
Madam Zou pressed a hand to her forehead. “If you don’t know where he is, tell me where he is most likely to have gone.” Then she turned to Nanny Zhao. “Is this the sort of useless trash you manage day in and day out?”
Nanny Zhao replied, “They are girls from the storerooms; they rarely go near the young master on ordinary days.”
Madam Zou clicked her tongue and said no more.
“Madam…” a young maid whispered timidly, “could he possibly be in the wing room? Because…”
“Hm?” Madam Zou glared toward the sound.
Frightened by that dagger of a glare, the young maid fell instantly silent. But a bolder, quicker maid beside her picked up the thread: “Yes, yes! Young Master kept babbling about the ‘bride’—could he have run off to the wing room?!”
The maid’s words had scarcely fallen when Madam Zou rose at once, snapping fiercely, “What are you standing there gaping for? Go look!”
Heading to the western wing room alone, the young maid was terrified. The blue flagstone path seemed endless, wind and snow blurring her vision as the night grew darker by the moment; the roadside trees twisted like clawing beasts, eerie and frightening.
Wait? This darkness? Halfway there, the young maid belatedly realized: When I left the main hall, it was only sunset. How is it that now…
Even as the thought crossed her mind, she saw, at the end of the stone path, a figure draped in red bridal robes and a red veil, standing stiff and upright.
The young maid’s eyes lit up. “Miss Xu! Miss Xu, why are you out…”
But when she looked closely, the figure before her was noticeably bloated and fat—nothing like that slender Xu Liangdi from earlier!
The maid recoiled two steps in fright.
The next instant, the ‘bride’ opened his mouth, letting out a deep, thick male voice: “My bride… I’m looking for my bride…”
The person under this red veil was clearly—unmistakably—Young Master Ah Bao!
The maid gathered her wits. “Young Master! We’ve been searching everywhere for you! Why are you dressed like this? Where is Miss Xu?”
She reached up and lifted Ah Bao’s red veil, only to be shoved violently backward without warning.
“…Bride! I am the bride! I am the bride!” Ah Bao kicked the maid hard to the ground, raising his fists, mumbling furiously, “How dare you lift my veil! Die! Die!…”
Though Young Master Ah Bao was usually foolish, he had at least been mild-tempered; but now, he was like a beast out of control. His hammering fists landed hard as stones. Battered in pain and terror, the maid was frightened half to death.
After beating and kicking for a while, Ah Bao seemed unsatisfied; he picked up a thick forked wooden club from the edge of the path.
“H-help! Help!—” Seizing the opening, the maid scrambled to her feet and fled screaming back toward the hall, “Nanny Zhao! Nanny Zhao! Nanny Zh—”
Only to run headlong into a furious Madam Zou at the entrance of the main hall. “You again!” Madam Zou scolded in stark displeasure. “What is worth all this screeching?!”
“Madam!!”
Forgetting how terrified she usually was of Madam Zou, the maid lunged forward as if grasping a lifesaving straw: “Madam! Madam! Young Master… the young master’s illness has flared again…”
Madam Zou’s brow furrowed, and she stepped forward.
And right at that moment, Ah Bao appeared on the stone path, club in hand.
“Ah Bao!” Madam Zou was visibly overjoyed. Shedding her harsh demeanor, she turned warm and gentle in an instant. “Ah Bao, where did you run off to?! Mother searched everywhere for you!”
She noticed something dripping steadily from the club in Ah Bao’s hand.
Madam Zou reached out to touch it. “Ah Bao! Whose blood is this?… Are you bleeding?”
Ah Bao remained deaf to her words, but an eerie curl tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Heh heh…” He grabbed Madam Zou’s hand, smiling idiotically. “Mother, I’m hungry…”
Madam Zou pulled him along. “Food from the wedding feast? It’s all prepared! Everything’s ready, all your favorites!” She patted his hand and coaxed him, smiling, “Today is my Ah Bao’s joyous day—naturally Mother won’t let you go hungry. Come…”
Unexpectedly, Ah Bao’s hand suddenly clamped onto Madam Zou’s forearm, twisting inward with brutal force!
The force was so immense it seemed ready to snap the woman’s arm clean in two.
“So, Mother…” Meeting Madam Zou’s shock-stricken eyes, Ah Bao lifted his head, a twisted grin on his face, fresh crimson blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
“Have you seen my bride?”
The forty-seventh year of the Zhou Qi Dynasty, the twenty-second of the third month: the Zou Manor descended into madness.
What should have been a day of celebration saw the groom suddenly transformed into a bloodthirsty, maniacal demon.
Though Ah Bao was an idiot, his build was exceptionally stout and powerful. Squire Zou had passed away early, and aside from the hired sedan bearers, the Zou estate had barely a dozen men in all.
And so the household servants were no match for this ‘Evil Ghost’; this grotesque feast of slaughter dragged on for hours.
—The wedding feast of the Zou Family’s young master came to a close in the most absurdly gruesome fashion.
“Across the estate, twenty-two wounded, seven dead.”
Inside the government office of Yiyun Town outside Mount Zou’ao, several minor clerks reported the situation. “The only one unaccounted for is… is that bride.”
Another clerk chimed in, “Yet there are those who say she was… was swallowed by that idiot young master…” Speaking, he swallowed hard; perhaps finding it too incredible or too repulsive to voice, his tone dropped noticeably.
In a Taishi Chair, a youth with delicate, handsome features rapped the tabletop. “Speak plainly.”
“…Swallowed… swallowed alive.”
The young official lifted her eyelids. “Then summon the coroner and autopsy the corpse.”
“Vice Minister Zhou,” an old man nearby looked up, bowing and scraping with an ingratiating smile. “It has already been autopsied.”
The youth asked, “Nothing was found?”
The coroner said, “…Nothing. The stomach was empty. In this humble official’s foolish opinion… most likely, this Zou Ah Bao hadn’t eaten a single bite since the hour of Wu.”
The youth reasoned, “According to the neighbors’ statements, the incident began at the hour of You, while Zou Ah Bao was apprehended and suffered sudden death at the hour of Hai. From Wu to Hai spans four to six shichen. The autopsy confirms his stomach is completely empty; so this bride allegedly swallowed alive…”
A clerk interjected, “Vice Minister Zhou, wasn’t it said the man was possessed by an Evil Ghost? When an Evil Ghost eats people, how could it truly go into his stomach?”
“I believe in no talk of ghosts and gods,” Vice Minister Zhou replied, casting a sideways glance. “I believe only that human hands make human deeds.”
“Zou Ah Bao already suffered from mental affliction and could brook no severe shock; for him to go suddenly mad must have a cause. Perhaps someone ‘guided’ him, or perhaps some cultivator’s Mind Art… offered a little coaxing.”
The aged coroner’s eyes narrowed slightly, and the clerk could only slink back to his place in embarrassment.
This youth seated upon the Taishi Chair was none other than the prominent figure in high favor before the reigning Sovereign—the Vice Minister of the Dali Court, Zhou Zhaoyue.
Three years ago, at the age of sixteen, Zhou Zhaoyue had won the title of Tanhua, and from then on had risen swiftly through the ranks, scaling the clouds without hindrance.
The Sovereign had once declared openly before the civil and military court that while Zhou Zhaoyue bore the title of Tanhua, she possessed the true talent of the Zhuangyuan.
As an official, she was clean, incorruptible, and unyielding, deeply loved by the local populace and treasured by the Sovereign. Before even reaching twenty, she had risen to high office in the Dali Court, and was later chosen by imperial decree as the Prince Consort of the Princess’s Manor.
Anyone who spoke of her would praise her boundless future.
And now, this Vice Minister and Prince Consort sat with a grave countenance upon the Taishi Chair, raising her brush to say flatly:
“—Track down the bride.”
(Author’s Note: Just have to say it: the Prince Consort’s gender is female. And she belongs to the Eldest Princess.)
