Aunt Li had been taking care of Si for about twenty days now. In her eyes, Si was gentle and well-behaved, her words as warm as a spring breeze. Though she appeared young, she carried herself with remarkable composure.
This was the first time Aunt Li had seen Si so startled.
The older woman chuckled. "Are you worried about Young Master Jiang? Don’t be. He’s out handling some business, not out there as an assassin. The officials are quite capable—they surely wouldn’t arrest the wrong person, would they…?"
Her words actually helped Si calm down a little.
Si detected a faint trace of uncertainty in Aunt Li’s tone, but based on her understanding of the woman, Aunt Li wasn’t suspecting Jiang Hui of being an assassin. She was simply afraid he might have been mistakenly arrested.
Now was not the time to panic.
Si patted her chest, feigning relief. "Since the accomplices of the assassins have been caught, my husband should be back soon."
Seeing her visibly relax, Aunt Li reacted unusually quickly. "Are you saying Young Master Jiang went to capture the assassins?"
Si shook her head. "Actually, I’m not sure. I only heard him mention before that he was working for an official, but the tasks were so sensitive that even family members couldn’t be told. I didn’t ask further."
Her vague response reassured Aunt Li.
"I knew it! Young Master Jiang is handsome and upright—he must be someone important!"
Having managed to calm Aunt Li, Si clenched her fists inside her sleeves. Jiang Hui’s prolonged absence left only her and Aunt Li at home. What if refugees broke in and caused trouble?
After much deliberation, Si asked Aunt Li, "Auntie, do you know how many refugees there are? Are they men or women?"
Now that she thought Jiang Hui might be connected to the authorities, Aunt Li seemed more spirited and willing to share details. "About seven or eight, not many. I heard their clothes were all torn and they looked dirty, but they seemed quite peaceful. Probably haven’t been starving for too long."
Si lowered her gaze, deep in thought. On the way to Zhuxi with Jiang Hui, she had seen a few refugees. Those people, displaced from their homes, were gaunt and hollow-eyed. Whenever they found something edible, they would frantically stuff it into their mouths. Even after eating, they would hoard food on their bodies, fearing they might not have their next meal.
Zhuxi was a picturesque place with clear waters and lush mountains. Even if refugees came, they would find shelter as soon as they entered the area. They wouldn’t bother traveling this far. The behavior Aunt Li described also had subtle differences from that of typical refugees.
A suspicion began to surface in Si’s mind.
Could they be accomplices of the assassins?
Or… could Jiang Hui actually be involved with the assassins, and those "refugees" were actually disguised officials sent to capture him?
Si’s heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t that she distrusted Jiang Hui, but there were simply too many coincidences.
Back in Licheng, she hadn’t heard of anyone hunting assassins. Although she had been curious about Jiang Hui’s identity, she had been too preoccupied with the threat of being handed over to the city lord by Zheng Wu to pursue it further.
Now, with the Elder Young Master Yan arriving in Zhuxi, Jiang Hui was away and unaccounted for. Coincidentally, the Yan Clan was hunting assassins. With so many coincidences piling up, how could she not be suspicious?
Jiang Hui was indeed enigmatic. Though only a year older than her, he always seemed burdened with heavy thoughts. His identity as a swordsman naturally carried an air of danger, and he often went out, leaving her unsure of what he did for a living.
Si had once tried to probe gently, but he hesitated and ultimately said it wasn’t the right time to tell her.
Si didn’t press further. To her, what mattered more was whether he could help her escape her tormentors, not what he did for a living.
A beautiful blind girl with no memory and no family was like a wounded deer in a forest, an easy target for predators. Without someone to protect her, she wouldn’t last a day.
Jiang Hui was now the only person she could trust.
Though he was aloof and reserved, he was deeply loyal. He had repeatedly helped beggars on the roadside, and even Aunt Li had come to know him through a chance encounter where he had aided her. That was why the woman was so devoted to taking care of Si.
Having been betrayed by someone she once trusted, Si didn’t assume that those who did good deeds were inherently good people. But she could see that Jiang Hui’s gaze was frank and upright, and he disdained underhanded dealings. He wouldn’t harm someone who posed no threat to him. If he was willing to help beggars and Aunt Li—people who were defenseless—he wouldn’t turn on Si, who had once saved his life.
Speaking of saving his life, Si felt a pang of guilt.
Initially, she had intended to leave him to his fate.
When she found Jiang Hui, barely alive, in the abandoned stable at the end of the alley, he claimed he had been betrayed by his family and begged her to save him, promising to repay her. Si, not wanting to get involved, left him there, neither helping nor reporting him.
It was his voice that caught her attention.
She had heard pleasant voices before, but Jiang Hui’s voice struck her in a way she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t exactly pleasant or unpleasant—just unforgettable.
That night, Si had a dream.
In the dream, a man with a captivating voice leaned close and teased her, saying he would marry her at seventeen. His face and figure were obscured, as if veiled, but his voice was crystal clear.
And his voice sounded just like the injured man’s.
The strange thing was, despite the voice being so pleasant and the words so sweet, Si felt a wave of panic in the dream.
When she woke up, she laughed at herself for being so foolish as to have such a bizarre dream just because the man had a nice voice.
She decided to put it out of her mind and let him fend for himself. But in the early hours of the morning, she couldn’t resist checking on him. He was still there, looking as though he might die at any moment. Si hesitated, standing a few feet away and watching him for a long time. The man was undeniably handsome, but what stood out was that despite his severe injuries, after she ignored his pleas, he didn’t beg further.
That earned her respect.
She couldn’t bring herself to dislike someone with such pride.
Seeing his calm yet frank gaze, Si finally tested the waters, ensuring he wouldn’t harm her, and gave him a bottle of leftover ointment and some water.
She wasn’t a saint—she had her own reasons for saving him. Being alone in this place, with no family to rely on, she knew that while her father and Yun Niang doted on her now, the saying "a stepmother means a stepfather" held true. She needed to secure her own safety. This man was a skilled martial artist with a strong will. In these turbulent times, someone like him was like a sharp sword—he might prove useful in the future.
She had been right. Without Jiang Hui, she would likely have become a plaything for the powerful.
Si could also tell that Jiang Hui had feelings for her.
But even after their escape, though they were alone together, he never crossed any boundaries. To put her at ease, he deliberately maintained a distance of three feet and slept on the roof every night.
He spoke little, but Si loved his voice and often pretended to be naive to tease him, just to hear him say a few more words.
Though he appeared indifferent, he wasn’t immune to her teasing. His ears would betray him, turning red despite his composed expression.
Thinking of these past moments, Si felt a pang of guilt.
She silently prayed that her husband wasn’t involved in the assassination attempt on the Elder Young Master Yan, but was simply delayed by other matters.
When he returned, she would treat him better.
The day soon came to an end.
As dusk approached, for Si, the difference between dawn and dusk was negligible. What truly unsettled her was the passage of time itself.
She had caressed the dagger countless times, yet Jiang Hui remained missing. Her courage felt like a stretched thread, growing thinner and thinner, unsure when it would snap.
Aunt Li mentioned that the gate of the courtyard had been knocked askew by the rain last night, and fearing that refugees might break in, she had gone to the mountainside to fetch stones after dinner, planning to block the gate before bedtime.
Si waited in the room for a while, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm her. Even if wild beasts were at the door, she needed to sleep. Slowly, she got up and, relying on the sense of direction she had developed through repeated missteps, inched her way toward the bed.
Just as she reached the cabinet, she heard noise outside the courtyard gate. Si’s heart leapt—could it be Jiang Hui returning?
But almost immediately, her brows furrowed in suspicion.
It sounded like there was more than one person outside, the chaotic footsteps obscuring many details.
A man’s voice shouted, "Is anyone there? The authorities are searching for assassins!"
The authorities?
Assassins?
Si, still holding onto the cabinet door, felt her heart sink.
Had Jiang Hui really gone to assassinate the Elder Young Master Yan?
Speculation was pointless, and Si couldn’t be sure. But regardless of who these people were or their intentions, this situation was dangerous for her.
If she hadn’t been blind, she might have been able to navigate the situation with some finesse. But she couldn’t see. She had no idea how many people were there, nor could she discern their expressions as they spoke. They might pretend to be kind to lull her into lowering her guard, only to deceive her later. Or they could feign comfort while taking advantage of her blindness to ambush her.
A beautiful blind girl, alone and helpless—what good could possibly come of it? Like a fish on a chopping block, danger could come from anywhere.
The memories of lecherous gazes that once seemed to strip her bare came flooding back, shattering the calm she had maintained for days. Si, like a frightened rabbit, panicked and scrambled into the cabinet.
Clutching a dagger tightly, she curled herself into the farthest corner of the cabinet, wishing she could disappear into the wood.
Thump, thump—
All she could hear was the frantic pounding of her own heart.
For a moment, Si thought she had not only lost her sight but her hearing as well. It felt as though she were submerged underwater, the sounds of the outside world muffled, her mind blank.
Don’t panic, don’t panic…
Those people might not be evil. Perhaps they would see no one in the courtyard and move on.
By the time she regained some semblance of composure, the footsteps were already close.
The group was entering the house.
Si held her breath.
A chill ran down her spine, and her palms grew so clammy that the dagger’s hilt began to slip. She tightened her grip.
One by one, they entered the room.
Amidst the uneven footsteps, a clear, melodious voice spoke unhurriedly, “No sign of anyone?”
The voice was uniquely captivating.
It was like the chime of jade striking jade, or a gemstone dropping into a deep pool. The initial tone was warm and refined, yet the lingering echo carried a cold, lazy edge, making it impossible to decipher.
Blindness and days of exhaustion had dulled Si’s thoughts, slowing them to a crawl. It took her a moment to realize—
That voice… it sounded like Jiang Hui!
It was her husband’s voice.
Si let down her guard, exhaling deeply. That soothing voice was like a divine chant, dispelling the fear that had haunted her for days.
She didn’t even have time to wonder why he had returned with soldiers before she hastily pushed open the cabinet door.
As soon as she peeked out, the sharp “clang” of swords being unsheathed made her shoulders jerk. Her hands clutched the cabinet door as she shrank back halfway.
The next moment, the sound of blades scraping against each other returned, but this time, the sharpness and menace were gone—the swords were being sheathed.
“You—”
The voice spoke again.
Si paused. It was indeed her husband’s voice, but something felt off. She couldn’t quite place what it was.
Yet the way he addressed her was correct.
Jiang Hui was cold and reserved. In the months they had known each other, he had never called her by her name, always addressing her as “girl” or simply “you.” Even after they drank the wedding wine and became husband and wife, it had taken her days of coaxing and cajoling to get him to occasionally call her “wife.”
They hadn’t been married long, and Jiang Hui was a man of few words, often away from home. He had barely called her “wife” a handful of times. This time, he had been gone for nearly ten days, so it was no surprise that he had grown distant again.
But at least he was back.
With a clatter, Si dropped the dagger. Following the sound of his voice, she stumbled toward him, her hands reaching out until they grasped a small piece of fabric—his sleeve.
She lifted her head and called out to him in a trembling, timid voice.
“Husband, I’m here…”
