The pain was excruciating.
Tears welled up in Ye Jiao's eyes instantly. Choking with sobs, she cried out, "Which bastard shot me? I am the Chief Constable of Wuhou..."
Her voice was feeble, but the silence of the night carried it far. Someone on the opposite side heard it.
"Damn!" the man muttered in panic. Instead of checking on her condition, he turned and fled in the opposite direction.
Ye Jiao crouched on the ground in disarray and pulled out the arrow. Fortunately, it hadn't penetrated deeply, and the arrowhead lacked barbs. Still, the swiftly flowing blood was draining her strength.
"It hurts..." she groaned softly, trying to rise.
She couldn't collapse here. She was the Chief Constable of Chang'an. Caught sneaking into Prince Zhao's residence in the dead of night — even ten thousand explanations wouldn't suffice. She could be stripped of her position by morning and exiled to the southern frontiers.
No, she had to leave. She had to climb the wall and escape.
Ye Jiao tried multiple times to hoist herself up using the wall, but what was once an easy climb now felt like scaling a sheer cliff.
In her panic, she heard hurried footsteps approaching.
He came like a bolt of lightning cutting through the night.
He was dressed in nothing but thin white sleepwear, billowing as if it carried a biting wind with him. He barreled through flowerbeds, vaulted over rocks, and crashed through shrubs — ignoring the paved path — until he finally appeared before Ye Jiao.
Li Ce.
The moonlight shimmered like water. He was cold, like a block of ice.
He stood frozen in front of Ye Jiao, confirming it was truly her, confirming she was still alive. Then he stepped forward and saw the blood on her shoulder.
"Ye Jiao... Ye Jiao..." he called her name in a panic, raising and lowering his hands, forgetting what to do.
"Do you have any wound medicine?" she asked him.
"Yes." Li Ce turned to fetch it, then abruptly turned back and swept her into his arms.
"What are you doing?" Ye Jiao struggled in his embrace, but Li Ce strode forward swiftly.
"Don't speak," he whispered. "Don't let the guards hear you."
So it wasn't the Zhao Prince's guards who had shot her?
Li Ce's face was pale as they moved. Thankfully, his own courtyard was not far beyond the garden. Two guards accompanied them — one clearing the way ahead, the other trailing behind, apologizing repeatedly.
"My apologies, Chief Constable. I didn't realize it was you."
"My apologies, Your Highness. Please punish me."
Li Ce pressed his lips tightly together, saying nothing until they entered his brightly lit bedchamber. He gently laid Ye Jiao on the bed and gave a low command:
"Close the door."
The guard complied hastily — too hastily, accidentally trapping himself inside before retreating in a fluster to stand outside.
Ye Jiao sat on the bed watching Li Ce fumble about. He seemed completely flustered, rummaging through drawer after drawer before finally finding the wound medicine. As he hurried back with it, he paused, remembering to fetch hot water. He nearly tripped over a floor cushion, staggering but managing not to fall.
When he returned with everything and began treating Ye Jiao's wound, she saw the blood on him.
Some of it was hers. Some was his.
His arm, sleeves, and lower robe had been slashed, long gashes visible, the blood glaring against the white fabric.
"What happened to you?" Ye Jiao asked.
"It's nothing. I brushed against some thorns," he replied flatly.
He hadn't even thought to avoid the sharp briars as he raced through the flowerbeds.
Li Ce's face remained ghostly pale, his tone devoid of concern. Yet he carefully wiped the blood around her wound, cleaned it thoroughly, poured on the medicine, and pressed a cloth against it.
"Thank heavens," he murmured. "Yan Yun's arrow was only a warning shot."
Ye Jiao wasn't listening. What struck her was how Li Ce hadn't taken the path — he had trampled directly through the dense beds of thorny moon-red flowers to reach her.
Those sharp thorns had ripped his clothes and torn his flesh.
It must have hurt terribly.
He must care for her, she thought — even if he didn't say it aloud.
A pang welled in her chest. She picked up the wound medicine, intending to treat his injuries.
"No need," Li Ce stepped back, dodging her touch. If his hand weren't still pressing on her wound, he might have backed away even farther.
"Fine! Have it your way!" Ye Jiao shoved him away angrily, hastily wrapping her shoulder and heading for the door.
"Wait!" Li Ce stood in place and called after her. "Don't climb over walls to enter Prince Zhao's residence again."
Now that his quarters were heavily guarded, even with few men, they were elite soldiers. He had to remain vigilant — especially with the powerful Commander of the Imperial Guards, Yan Jide, as his foe.
"I wasn't looking for you!" Ye Jiao bit her lip and snapped, "Don't flatter yourself. I came to see Wang Qianshan!"
"What for?" A flicker of tension crossed Li Ce's face.
"None of your business!" she snarled, kicking the door open.
This very room — once filled with shared meals, sunlit moments, and subtle warmth — now made her want to punch him with every passing second.
How could he be so kind one moment, yet harbor secrets the next?
Tears brimmed in her eyes as she stormed off. Li Ce reached to grasp her shawl, only to find her arm bare — the shawl had been lost somewhere along the way.
"Ye Jiao," he called after her, eyes full of sorrow and longing.
She stopped, back to him, hoping he would speak sincerely — explain his sudden change of heart, share whatever burdens he bore.
Silence stretched painfully long.
At last, he spoke: "I'll have Qingfeng escort you out through the main gate."
After dismissing Bai Xianyu, Ye Jiao rode home alone. Qingfeng followed at a careful distance, afraid something might happen to her.
But Ye Jiao's heart had calmed.
So be it. Let him do what he must. She was the Chief Constable of Wuhou — was she to wait around for Li Ce to come to his senses?
Would she abandon her family? Her post? Her comrades?
Stop eating? Stop drinking? Stop watching dancers twirl beneath the lamplight?
"To hell with him!"
She nudged her horse forward. Her body felt numb, the pain in her wound dulled — perhaps because the ache had settled deeper, into her heart.
To her surprise, when she reached the gates of the Duke of Anguo's manor, the entire household — young and old — were waiting for her.
"Welcome home, my lady!"
It was her first day in office, and she had already earned imperial praise along with her fellow Wuhou officers. The servants and guards clapped and readied firecrackers, only to be stopped by Ye Jiao.
"Do you know what it means to act 'without claiming ownership, to achieve without boasting, to succeed without taking credit'?"
She deliberately stood by her horse to conceal her wound.
"No idea," the servants exchanged puzzled glances. Their mistress was known for her love of blades and brawls — when had she become so scholarly?
"Keep a low profile," Ye Jiao instructed. "It's late. If you don't sleep, how can others?"
Then, spotting her maid Shuiwen in the crowd, she added, "First thing tomorrow, distribute silver rewards — one string of coins for each!"
Cheers erupted as the crowd dispersed joyfully.
As soon as they were gone, Ye Jiao clutched Shuiwen's arm and leaned heavily on her.
"Hold me," she gritted her teeth, "I'm hurt."
She'd hoped to hide it, but upon entering her boudoir, she found her sister Ye Rou sitting by the window, lit by a single lamp, poring over account books. A wooden abacus lay beside her, beads clacking softly.
Ye Jiao hurried to bed and slipped beneath the covers.
"Were you waiting for me, sister?"
"Mm," Ye Rou didn't look up, her brows slightly furrowed. "Mother was just here too. I told her to rest. You've only been off two days, and already the shopkeepers have sent over a mountain of accounts. I thought I'd help with the calculations — ease your burden a little."
Ever since Ye Changgen had left the capital, it was Ye Jiao who managed the family businesses. She had to review the ledgers, maintain order, and bear countless responsibilities. Fortunately, no errors had occurred thus far.
Ye Rou marked the last page, closed the ledger, and finally rose to speak with her sister.
"It's late. You should rest. I'll calculate more tomorrow."