Accident

Ye Qianran quietly plotted how she might escape his grasp. After deliberating for some time, she gave him a radiant smile. Ye Qianran was already a beauty of rare distinction; when such a smile blossomed on her exquisite features, it dazzled. Zhuge Qingfeng was stunned by the sight, loosening his grip on her arm just enough. Seizing the opportunity, Ye Qianran broke free, leaping far away from him.

Zhuge Qingfeng realized what had happened, laughed at himself, and shook his head. How foolish he had been, falling right into her trap. As he was about to speak to Ye Qianran, who stood a full ten feet away, a voice drifted down the corridor behind him: “Brother Zhuge?” There was surprise and delight in the tone. Zhuge Qingfeng turned to see Zhang Yu, the eldest son of Zhang Jing, approaching with the steward. A smile graced Zhuge Qingfeng’s face. “Brother Yu.”

Zhang Yu warmly placed a hand on Zhuge Qingfeng’s shoulder, acting as if they were old friends long parted, though in fact, they’d only met twice, both times at birthday banquets. Zhang Yu’s face was plastered with a false smile, his eyes devoid of any real cheer, his features exaggeratedly gathered as if he were a seasoned veteran of officialdom. In truth, Zhang Yu was two years older than Liu Yun, his peer, but due to early exposure to the political arena, he’d grown shrewd and worldly, exuding a fox-like cunning.

“Brother Zhuge, what brings you here alone?” he asked.

Zhuge Qingfeng chuckled lightly. “Brother Yu knows I’ve never cared for crowds. I wandered about and ended up here. I hope you won’t hold my abruptness against me.”

Zhang Yu laughed, “Brother Zhuge is always like a breath of fresh air, coming and going as he pleases. I understand completely. But the banquet is about to begin—come, walk with me.”

Without waiting for a reply, he strode ahead. Zhuge Qingfeng glanced back at Ye Qianran, who stood a distance away with her head bowed. He signaled her not to wander, and she returned a reassuring look. The two men walked farther and farther away.

Ye Qianran watched their receding figures and let out a sigh of relief. The noon sun was scorching above her head as she slowly walked along the corridor. The cicadas sang. A solitary figure approached, and Ye Qianran, noticing his refined appearance, immediately lowered her head and stood aside. As he passed, she caught a faint scent in the air. Cautiously, she turned and walked in the opposite direction.

“Stop,” a cold, sinister voice pierced her ears. Ye Qianran froze in place.

“Turn around,” he commanded, his tone icy and devoid of emotion.

Ye Qianran had no choice but to turn, her palms damp with nervous sweat. She kept her head bowed, standing still.

She watched as his footsteps drew closer, her head lowered even further, anxiety coursing through her.

With a fan, he tilted her chin up, his gaze sweeping over her eyebrows, nose, and lips, a hint of amusement flickering at the corners of his mouth. “Which household do you serve?” he asked.

Ye Qianran moved her chin off the fan and replied quietly, “I came with Young Master Ye An.”

“I remember you. You’re the one who bested Gu Qingcheng’s three challenges. And—” He paused, lifting her chin again, observing her smooth neck and noting the absence of an Adam’s apple. “—you’re a woman.”

Ye Qianran instinctively stepped back. “I don’t know what the young master means.”

The sound of his malicious laughter came from above. “You’ll soon understand exactly what I mean.”

The steward hurried over with news, “Young master, Qingfeng said he won’t wait for you and has gone to the front courtyard alone.”

Only then did Ye Qianran realize the man before her was Zhang Yu, the one who had greeted Qingfeng.

She barely had time to process this when a powerful hand struck the back of her neck. Numbness and pain flooded in; her vision went black, and she collapsed into Zhang Yu’s arms.

Zhang Yu sneered, “You can hardly blame me—you're the one who came to me.” He then ordered the steward to have her locked in the woodshed, to be dealt with after his affairs were concluded.

At the banquet, the guest of honor, the Duke of Wei, appeared only briefly, uttering a few words before being escorted away by maids and servants. Though ostensibly a birthday celebration for the Duke, it was little more than a means for the Zhang family to curry favor with officials and wealthy merchants. Throughout the feast, Zhang Yuan and Zhang Jing repeatedly toasted in their father’s stead. Cups clashed, voices rose, and the atmosphere was lively. The meal lasted a full hour, after which guests departed in succession as the sun began to sink. Ye Yuandao was invited to remain at the Zhang residence.

The court’s debate over reducing the power of princes was divided into two factions, but clearly the view led by Minister of War Zhuge Qingtian and Zhang Yuan, favoring the first reduction of Prince Jingjiang Liu Heng, held sway. This did not mean universal agreement—rather, the emperor currently favored Zhuge Qingtian and Zhang Yuan.

Last time, when Liu Heng entered the capital, he secretly left behind a list—those who were undecided and could be won over. At the top was Ye Yuandao.

For Liu Heng to openly rebel, the minimum requirement was military funding. His two hundred thousand troops stationed in the southwest faced the immediate problem of sustenance. Ancient wisdom says, “Before the troops march, provisions must be secured.” The four great merchants of the capital were said to possess wealth rivaling nations. He needed to win them over to prepare for future confrontation with the court.

Since the matter of reducing the princes had been placed on the agenda, Liu Heng knew this battle with the court was inevitable, only a question of when. His preparations were not yet complete; he relied on his connections in the capital to delay progress.

Of the four great merchants, only one openly supported him. The other three remained undecided. During his last visit to the capital, Liu Heng had tested Ye Yuandao, whose attitude was ambiguous. Thus, he hinted to Zhang Jing to target Ye Yuandao.

If Ye Yuandao could be persuaded, not only would military funds be secured, but his network of contacts could be leveraged. Whether through persuasion or coercion, Ye Yuandao was someone Liu Heng must win.

In the side hall, Zhang Jing probed gently, but Ye Yuandao responded with calm indifference, keeping his stance unclear.

While these negotiations were fraught with uncertainty, Zhang Yuan thrived—he and Zhuge Qingtian were of one mind.

Meanwhile, Ye Qianran, trapped in the woodshed, finally regained consciousness. She opened her eyes slowly, finding herself lying in a dark room, surrounded by heaps of dried straw. She struggled to sit up, only to realize her hands and feet were bound, unable to move. Her face pressed against the cold floor, the chill seeped into her heart. The ropes around her wrists and ankles were so tight that any attempt to struggle sent waves of pain from her limbs. After a long while, she abandoned the effort, lying twisted on the ground as she carefully analyzed what had happened.

She could not understand why she had been brought here. Even if Zhang Yu had discovered her true gender, he must have known she was of the Ye household. Did he not fear offending Ye Manor and souring relations? Or did he believe Ye Manor would not risk conflict over a mere maidservant?

Unable to untangle her thoughts, her mind grew increasingly muddled and aching. Just then, the door creaked open. Sunlight flooded in along with Zhang Yu, dressed in a deep crimson robe patterned with cloud motifs. Ye Qianran instinctively closed her eyes against the brightness. When she opened them again, Zhang Yu was crouched before her, a sinister smile on his face. Her heart gave a violent leap.

At that moment, Zhuge Liuyun sat in the side hall, smiling as he listened to his father and Lord Zhang converse. His right eye twitched, his cool brows furrowed slightly as he slowly turned to gaze toward the sunlit doorway.

Zhuge Qingfeng, who hated such affairs, had found an excuse to seek Ye An, who was sweating profusely as he searched for Ye Qianran.

Zhang Yu dismissed the servants, then slowly untied the ropes from Ye Qianran’s hands and feet, removing the wad of cloth from her mouth. She looked at him in confusion, uncertain of his intentions.

Yet Ye Qianran felt no fear. She was a daughter of Ye Manor, he was Zhang Jing’s son, and her father wielded immense power in the capital. No one would wish to offend Ye Manor. She simply needed to declare her identity, and he would surely return her.

After freeing her, Zhang Yu said nothing. He remained crouched, staring intently at her, his eyes glinting with a hint of cruelty, a touch of malice, a trace of cunning. Such a gaze was unexpected; a chill rose in Ye Qianran’s heart. She realized she had underestimated him.

He slowly reached out. Ye Qianran instinctively shrank back. He gently pulled off the square kerchief binding her hair, and her ink-black locks spilled down like silk. She stared at him in terror. He asked with interest, “You’re Ye Qianran?”

Ye Qianran’s eyes widened in shock. For a moment, a thousand memories surged through her mind. Her voice trembled, “How did you know?”

He did not answer, only smiled coldly, then grabbed the front of her robe. The two were so close their breaths mingled. He stared at her. “No one else could interest me.”

Ye Qianran struggled in fright, but her words were clear and forceful: “If you dare do this to me, my father will never forgive you.”

“If I dared to abduct you, then I’ve already thought it through. I never knew who you were—dressed as a man, who knows what you’re up to?”

“You…” Ye Qianran was speechless with anger.

“Everyone says Gu Qingcheng is the capital’s greatest beauty. They must be blind. I believe you are the true unrivaled beauty. And such beauty should not belong to anyone—it can only belong to me.” His gaze gleamed wickedly as he spoke each word.

Only now did Ye Qianran truly feel fear. She wanted to flee, but his grip was relentless. She wanted to scream, but knew it was futile. He drew ever closer; she struggled desperately, but could not escape his hold. Until her body was pressed against the straw, Zhang Yu pressed himself upon her, his well-kept hands caressing her delicate white neck with ambiguous intent. “I heard you were fostered in Jiangnan since childhood. It’s said Jiangnan women are snow-white, their skin like jade. Today, I shall see for myself.” He tore at her sash with rough hands, bent down to her neck; his kisses trailed downward, his hands greedily tugging at her clothes.

She did not struggle, did not cry out, not even a tear. Her lips bore a deep crimson mark where he had bitten her. She stared motionless at the ceiling, like a corpse. In her mind flashed the elegant yet stubborn, solitary silhouette of Zhuge Liuyun.

Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, falling silently onto the soft straw. The room was filled with desolation.