Chapter 3: Assassin

In the warm, fresh March of early spring, the three of us, treating it like a game, wandered here and there, and in a month we ended up traversing more than half the country.

During that month I finally figured out what kind of era I was in. This place is not any ancient Chinese dynasty; it must be a completely different timeline. The nation we are in is called Qi, the strongest among neighboring states, with thirty‑six cities, over one‑hundred‑eighty commanderies, each governing counties and towns.

The emperor of Qi, Wei Lingfeng, ascended the throne at only twenty and is the youngest and most powerful ruler in Qi's history. In just three years he expanded the realm severalfold, becoming the undisputed hegemon of the age.

As for the other states, I have not set foot in them and have no time to concern myself now. I only know that nations such as Yin and Yue are trailing behind Qi, and they are also quite formidable.

During the journey, whenever I was idle I studied medicine and the fiddle with Qi Ran. Perhaps because I was already interested in medical theory in the modern world, I made some progress in a short time. As for the fiddle, I had learned the zither back home, so I could play it fairly well.

Hearing Qi Ran praise my cleverness made me feel elated, while ignoring Bu Sha's sneaky grin beside me.

Regarding martial arts, Qi Ran wanted to teach me from the start, saying that in these chaotic times a young lady without any self‑defense is dangerous. Unfortunately, ancient martial techniques are truly terrifying; external skills require internal power to back them up, otherwise the flashy tricks are far less useful than the techniques I had trained before.

The problem lies in cultivating internal force, which forces me to sit still for three double‑hours each day—six hours total—to feel the flow of Qi inside my body and slowly guide it. My God… I'd rather just die.

Thus, the eager me who wanted to become a martial‑arts master decisively gave up the idea three days later.

Qi Ran was helpless, Bu Sha sneered, and this time I ignored them all.

Walking through Changping County, famed as the 'Land of Fish and Rice' in Qi, I felt immensely exhilarated. In this month I finally fulfilled the dream I'd longed for seven years—traveling—something my father's busy work had never allowed.

Aside from occasional nights of eating the wind and sleeping exposed when I couldn't find lodging, everything else was quite wonderful.

The scab on my face has long fallen off, but the scar remains as red as I expected. After scaring a little girl to tears on my first outing and frightening away a bunch of handsome men, I was forced to wear a veil every day. Fortunately it's still early spring, mild but not hot; when the dog days arrive I'm not sure whether I'll have to follow Qi Ran in crafting a proper mask.

I once asked Qi Ran whether, upon first seeing my face, they felt disgust or fear.

He smiled, though there was no mirth in his eyes, and said, "Only a stunningly beautiful face would make me feel disgust or fear."

I was stunned, finally realizing he was talking about himself.

Gripping a silver note, I bounded three steps then two toward the innkeeper and shouted, "Boss, we'd like a room."

Yeah, feeling rich is great! Like in the modern world, that stingy old dad could afford to buy a whole city, yet he never gives my brother and me a single extra coin, calling it 'enjoying life.'

I've never even seen a glimpse of the whole entourage—chartered cars, bodyguards, escorts. Only the mansion I see when I go home and the high‑society banquets my father occasionally drags us to remind me that I'm also a child of a wealthy family.

Sure enough, blood ties make a world of difference in treatment.

I smiled. That person, never knows how to express themselves!

"May I ask how many rooms you'd like, sir?"

"Two, and an upper room, understood?" I waved the thick silver note in my hand.

"Alright!" the innkeeper shouted, "I'll take the guests to Room Tian No. 1 and No. 2."

I strolled ahead, and Qi Ran laughed helplessly, "Why are you so happy? Watch your step and don't fall again!"

I turned back and glared fiercely at Qi Ran and the smirking Bu Sha beside him, shouting angrily, "I already said it was an accident; bring up the fall again and I'll lose my temper!"

Thinking of that accident a few days ago still makes me angry. It was a market day, crowds bustling; ignoring Qi Ran and Bu Sha's monster‑like stares, I curiously bought an ancient candy figure and kept licking, biting, and feeling it.

Suddenly chaos erupted on the street—a horse had spooked. I saw a little boy frozen in terror right under the horse's hooves, unable to dodge, and I rushed forward without a second thought to rescue him.

Normally, with my skill, this would be a trivial case, but my newly‑worn ancient lady's dress and embroidered shoes couldn't match the agility of jeans and sneakers; after only two steps I tripped terribly, and the candy figure smeared all over my face and veil.

Seeing that I was about to become a dead soul beneath the horse together with the boy, I shut my eyes in terror.

The next second I found myself in a warm embrace. Opening my eyes, I met a pair of blue eyes. Qi Ran's gaze held a hint of anger for the first time, about to rebuke me. The child, still frightened, began to wail, and as I fumbled to soothe him, he suddenly leaned over and licked my veil, stopping his crying.

I jumped in shock; he kept trying to lick again, and I remembered my face was covered in sweet syrup. When I tried to get up, the child made a tear‑filled, sob‑ready expression, leaving me at a loss—neither able to advance nor retreat.

Qi Ran couldn't help but laugh out loud at the sight; seeing him so joyous in his arms made me a little stunned. He suddenly lowered his head, gently licked my forehead, and in a slightly hoarse voice said, "Indeed, it's very sweet."

His gaze lingered on me as if kindling some unnamed feeling; his blue eyes deepened instantly. Strands of jet‑black hair drifted onto my face, brushing me and sending a tingling sensation to my heart.

My face flushed red in an instant; I sprang up with a "whoosh," not knowing what to say, and kept walking. But the dress— I deeply regretted wearing it— and with a "thump" I fell to the ground again.

"Ha ha…" This time not only Qi Ran, but also the little boy and the onlookers burst into good‑natured laughter.

I looked up and saw that even Bu Sha's millennial‑cold, icy face bore a hint of a smile. Sigh! Should I first boast about my boundless merit?

The recollection ended, and I turned away, reluctantly continuing up the stairs.

Since that day, whenever I put on a lady's dress, Qi Ran would occasionally say something like "Watch your step," and the worst part is both of them would smile mischievously. Especially Bu Sha, who wore a completely theatrical, gloating expression.

But swapping the dress for male attire and covering my face with a veil was just too odd. I did consider wearing a hanging‑silk hat, but once I suggested it, Qi Ran firmly opposed, saying my gait was already unsteady enough; adding a veil would make it impossible to survive walking out of this county.

I was so angry I didn't speak to them all day.

We were halfway up the stairs, when a loud voice from below shattered the air.

"Isn't that Bu Sha?!"

I turned around and saw Bu Sha's face freeze instantly, a murderous aura radiating from him as if innate, filling the narrow corridor.

"Is it really Bu Sha?"

"You… didn't you see that 'Blood‑Sucking' sword in his hand?"

"……"

As the murmurs spread, the inn filled with an atmosphere of panic, anger and doubt. Some seemed ready to bolt for the door, others stared at Bu Sha as if they wanted to skin him, yet their fear conflicted, preventing any action.

I leaned toward the slightly frowning Qi Ran and whispered, "What's Bu Sha's background? Look at them, they look like they've seen a ghost!"

Qi Ran stared silently at me; though he didn't look up, I could feel Bu Sha's consciousness faintly focusing on me.

After a while, Qi Ran said with a hint of helplessness, "You never knew? Bu Sha is the world's number‑one assassin."

No wonder he carries the same aura as his brother; I gave a wry smile, I should have guessed it.

But now isn't the time for sentiment; I looked over and could almost see a fleeting chill in Bu Sha's eyes.

In this month the three of us have been together daily; although Bu Sha remains icy, I can feel him gradually ceasing to resent my presence.

Whatever the reason, for someone like him truly accepting another person isn't something that can happen overnight, so this trust is especially precious to me.

I restrained my emotions, slyly examined him for a while, and laughed, "Even with that look, you still count as the world's number‑one assassin?"

Bu Sha squinted, looked back at me, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. Yet his murderous aura unconsciously subsided, and I smiled. He then said in a cold voice, "Want to try?"

I quickly shrank behind Qi Ran, voice angry, "You know I'm a weak woman without a speck of strength; how could I possibly defeat you? The world's number‑one assassin! With such a lofty title, how can you be so petty, so lacking in grace and cultivation… If you have the skill, fight Qi Ran instead! …"

"Bing Yi!" Qi Ran interrupted me, both annoyed and amused, "Are you sure you want to discuss publicly whether Bu Sha is the number‑one assassin?"

I lowered my head and finally realized the crowd below was completely terrified, staring blankly at me. I gave an awkward smile and said to Qi Ran, "Hehe, let's go up first."

I don't know why, but I suddenly felt my back tighten, as if someone were staring intently at me. That gaze wasn't icy, yet it lacked any warmth; if I had to put a word to it, it would be — probing.

I glanced around in surprise, but saw no suspicious figures. I couldn't help chiding myself for being overly paranoid.

"What's wrong?" Qiran asked softly.

I shook my head, flashing a bright smile, and said, "Let's go up."

Qiran ruffled my hair affectionately, gesturing for me to go ahead. So I didn't see him, after I turned, staring intently at a certain direction for a long, long time.

The three of us walked up like that, oblivious to everyone else, the atmosphere weirdly silent — the lobby downstairs so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Until —

"Busha!" — a piercing shout suddenly rang out, "Give back my father's life!"

My steps faltered; I turned and saw a youth covered head to toe in bloodstains, hair disheveled, rushing in from outside like a madman. The already nervous crowd exploded — fleeing, pushing, shrieking filled the inn as everyone surged toward the door.

It's hard to understand — we three have been wandering for over a month and never once saw Bu sha cover his face, yet no one had noticed his identity. Bu sha is someone whose presence is hard to detect, so how could he be recognized the moment he entered the inn today?

Could it be… that someone deliberately stirred up the crowd? I startled myself with the thought. Then I recalled the first voice that called out Bu sha's name, sounding utterly fearless. So the instigator must be him? But what could his motive be?

I scanned the room and finally spotted a middle‑aged man with a full beard, arms crossed, leaning against a pillar in the corner, calmly watching the fleeing crowd. Unlike the panicked or angry people around him, he seemed to have anticipated this outcome, now patiently waiting for the main act to begin.

(End of chapter)