10. Blood (2)
“Oh.”
Yu Qingjia answered automatically, then froze.
“Wait. Why are you ordering me around?”
Murong Yan was so natural when giving orders that it seemed as though he had been born to command others. Those around him were unconsciously affected by his presence; even people who were not his servants found themselves following his arrangements.
Yu Qingjia stood there indignantly.
But she knew this was not the time to argue over such things. So, although she was still fuming, she obediently went to gather the useful clothes, packages, and supplies.
She had just bundled several pieces of cloth into a large package when a mournful cry suddenly came from nearby.
Yu Qingjia jumped and hurried toward the sound.
When she arrived, she saw a thin trail of blood hanging from Murong Yan’s dagger.
The horse, which had still been clinging to life moments ago, was completely still.
Yu Qingjia stared, unable to understand.
“Why did you kill it? It was still alive.”
“It can’t walk anymore. Should I leave it for the pursuers?”
“But you already said it can’t walk. Even if the pursuers found it, it would be useless to them. On the other hand, if a farmer nearby found the horse and tried to take it home and treat it, perhaps it could still survive.”
A horse was an extremely valuable animal. Ordinary families could hardly afford to keep one. If nearby farmers or hunters discovered it, they would likely try to save it simply because of its value.
Murong Yan gave a soft laugh.
“That makes it even more necessary to kill it. Even if I no longer want something, I won’t allow it to fall into someone else’s hands.”
Yu Qingjia stared wide-eyed at him.
He had such exquisite, almost ethereal features, and he was even smiling as he said those words.
Yet someone who seemed to possess every beautiful quality in the world could have such a demonic heart.
For some reason, anger surged through Yu Qingjia.
She remained cold-faced as they continued their journey and no longer chattered endlessly at Murong Yan as she had when they first entered the forest.
The two walked silently through the dense forest, where the canopy blocked out the sky. The only sounds were their footsteps and the calls of unidentified insects, sometimes near and sometimes distant.
Suddenly, Murong Yan stopped.
His sharp, penetrating eyes slowly swept across the surrounding trees.
Murong Yan’s expression was extremely solemn. Even though Yu Qingjia had resolved not to speak to the fox spirit, she could not help being affected by his reaction.
“What is it?”
“There are pursuers.”
A warrior dressed in inconspicuous clothing moved silently between the trees. His feet stepped onto the thick layer of fallen leaves accumulated over the years without making the slightest sound.
He silently tracked the two people ahead.
The pair were not actually his target, but to be safe, his master had sent men to eliminate Yu Wenjun’s female family members. The warrior had followed them for quite some time, only to inexplicably lose their trail.
He carefully searched for traces along the path.
Then his eyes suddenly sharpened.
Not far ahead, a woman in a red gown was leaning against a tree, stumbling forward.
That’s her.
Yu Wenjun’s daughter was an exceptionally beautiful young woman.
What a pity.
The warrior silently drew his short blade and quickly stalked toward Yu Qingjia.
Yu Qingjia stood ahead, her palms covered in cold sweat.
In her fourteen years as a sheltered young lady, she had never once entered a wilderness forest like this, much less experienced being hunted.
Even during the most difficult years at the ancestral residence, she had suffered little more than verbal humiliation. In terms of food, clothing, housing, and transportation, she had still lived the life of the Sixth Young Lady of the Yu family.
She had been born to parents who cherished her. From childhood, both her parents had treasured her like a jewel, while Bai Zhi and the others had cared for her with equal devotion.
Even though she had been born into a chaotic age, Yu Qingjia had grown up surrounded by love and security.
When had she ever experienced danger like this?
She had to expose her back to her enemies while pretending nothing was wrong. She could not reveal the slightest hint of fear or nervousness. She could not even see where the enemy was.
And the only person she could trust was someone with whom she had accumulated countless grievances—a peer only one year older than her.
Yu Qingjia did not know how long she had been walking.
Then she faintly heard the sound of a sharp blade entering flesh behind her.
Her knees went weak, and she could no longer stand. She collapsed onto the ground.
Trembling, she braced herself with both hands and struggled to look back.
At the very least, she needed to know who had won.
The sky was gradually darkening. In this dense forest, the boundary between day and night had become increasingly difficult to distinguish.
The forest was filled with the lingering smell of fallen leaves and decay.
Darkness spread slowly between the tree trunks like a tide.
In that dim, murky light, Yu Qingjia saw a figure standing sideways to her.
The person wore narrow sleeves and a fitted waist. From the side, he looked as elegant and upright as bamboo.
Yet there was nothing elegant about his actions.
He lowered his head and looked at his own hand.
His fingers were long, slender, and pale, beautiful enough to resemble a work of art.
But when he had ambushed the assassin moments earlier, blood had inevitably splashed onto that hand.
Still warm, the blood flowed across his palm.
Murong Yan stared at his fingers, unable to resist slowly clenching and relaxing his hand.
Gradually, both hands became stained with vivid crimson.
He was staring at the blood, almost mesmerized, when a soft voice suddenly sounded beside him.
Perhaps because its owner was nervous, the final syllable trembled slightly.
“Vixen.”
Yu Qingjia stood about a feet away, watching him nervously.
She slowly approached Murong Yan and, after hesitating, cautiously took hold of his wrist.
Her fingertips were immediately stained bright red.
Yu Qingjia’s eyes widened. Moisture glimmered in them as she gently tugged on his wrist.
“It’s getting late. Let’s go.”
The way the vixen stood there silently, staring at the blood, truly frightened her.
The blood was gradually cooling, but her palm remained warm.
Her hand rested directly over Murong Yan’s pulse.
With every beat of his heart, her warmth seemed to spread throughout his entire body.
A faint blue gleam surfaced in Murong Yan’s pupils.
He looked at Yu Qingjia for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
“Okay.”
❖