Chapter Seven: The Death of the Bridegroom

"Why are they still not coming out? Even if she were embroidering stitch by stitch, it should be finished by now, shouldn't it? At least let the courtesan show herself!" Another guest, with a slightly better temper, also grumbled discontentedly.

"Exactly! We just want to catch a glimpse of her beauty!" The others echoed their agreement.

Seeing that the crowd’s discontent had reached a boiling point, the madam nervously wiped the cold sweat from her brow with her handkerchief, knowing well the danger of public anger. She glanced toward the silent chamber of Ruyi Pavilion, fretting inwardly: What on earth is going on with Haitang tonight? Why hasn't she come down after all this time?

No, I must go and see for myself. With this thought, she hurriedly climbed the stairs. Arriving at the door, she knocked softly and called out, "Haitang, Haitang, the time's long past—why aren't you ready yet? The guests are growing impatient!" Where has that wretched Yubing gone? It's her duty to wake Haitang at the right time!

She waited, but there was no response. A cold fear flashed through her mind: Could something have happened? The thought of an accident made her heart race. She pushed at the door, but it was bolted from the inside. In her panic, she threw her whole weight against it again and again, and at last forced it open!

The door swung wide, but she was dumbstruck by the chaos within: The table facing the door held only a blue-and-white porcelain tea lid and a tablecloth stained with tea. Following the spilled tea to the floor, she saw a scene of utter disorder—tea and leaves spattered everywhere, the cup shattered into pieces. One shard still bore a trace of blood, and a finger by the table leg showed the wound—likely cut in the struggle.

But the owner of the wound was none other than Young Master Ma, who should have been waiting in the Ma household for his wedding tomorrow. Now he sat slumped on the floor before the chair, his face ashen, eyes closed, black fluid seeping from every orifice—clearly dead for some time.

It took the madam a long moment to recover her senses. Stifling her urge to vomit, she skirted the corpse and entered the inner room, only to find Haitang lying peacefully on the jade bed, her cheeks flushed, breathing steadily, sound asleep.

Heavens! Who could tell her what had happened in this room?

"Ah! A… a dead body!" Little Moon, passing by the doorway, caught sight of the ghastly corpse and screamed, fainting on the spot.

"A dead body? Quick, let's go see!" The guests, who had been waiting in vain below, were startled by the scream and surged up the stairs in a throng.

"Haitang, Haitang, wake up! Please wake up!" Trying to maintain composure, the madam shook the still slumbering Haitang. When she did not stir, the madam grew even more uneasy. "How can she sleep so deeply?"

"What? Someone's really dead!" The first dandy to arrive was so frightened he dropped his elegant folding fan. When he came to his senses, he shouted, "I—I'll go report this to the authorities!" And he fled as fast as a startled rabbit. Whether he would truly report it, only heaven knew; in this world, there were always more spectators than heroes.

"I'll fetch Captain Li—he's my neighbor," another volunteered, proving that not everyone was content just to watch. Perhaps he would really find Captain Li.

Before long, several constables arrived to carry away the corpse, taking the still sleeping Haitang with them.

After such a scene, no one had any heart to linger, especially since the main attraction had been taken away. The madam, left with no choice, returned the newly acquired bills of silver to the distinguished guests, though she kept those from the powerless and poor—bad luck for them, not a coin returned.

Haitang could not fathom it—she had been sleeping soundly in Ruyi Pavilion, so why had she been doused with cold water to wake her? Before she could make sense of the county yamen’s grand hall before her, she had received forty brutal strokes. She should have been sitting at Ruyi Pavilion, trying on her wedding dress—how had she ended up in this courtroom?

Meanwhile, her would-be parents-in-law were crying for her blood, demanding she pay for their son’s life. Who could possibly explain what was happening? At last, she could endure no more and fainted away...

The chaos at Clear Breeze Pavilion and in the county yamen was wholly unexpected by Yubing, who was far away in a cave by the Cursed Forest. She had no idea her savior had been beaten and thrown into the women's jail.

Clear Breeze Pavilion was in utter turmoil, with everyone frantically searching for her.

As for Yubing, she methodically gathered firewood near the cave, struck a spark, and calmly tended to the wounds of the handsome man she had rescued earlier, applying powder and fresh bandages. She fed him some mild porridge using a delicate bamboo tube and changed his tattered, bloodstained clothes for clean ones she had brought along—after all, his old garments were so ragged and filthy that they would attract unwanted attention.

When all was done, she sat on a stone by the fire, gazing into the dancing flames, her thoughts adrift: Was the pavilion still in chaos? Had her mistress’s performance concluded? Tomorrow, her lady would be married—a good match, the greatest event in a woman’s life. Now that her task was complete, it was time for her to leave. Eight years had passed—far too long. What had truly happened in the palace all those years ago? She was determined to uncover the truth.

In the haze of half-consciousness, he seemed to see a figure flitting before him, but his eyelids were leaden and would not open. His body burned with pain and weakness—never in his life had he felt so feeble. His mother had always hoped his excellence would bring him his father’s attention, and he had always been healthy, never even suffering a cold. Sometimes, he had longed for illness, hoping for a little more of his mother’s affection.

Now that he had tasted helplessness, he swore never to wish for such a thing again—it was pure self-torment.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to circulate his inner energy. After a wave of stabbing pain, at last he saw the figure clearly: a maiden in snowy white, her long hair gathered with a jasmine blossom that sent out a faint fragrance, the rest loosely tied before her chest with a slender green vine. Her fair, delicate face was framed by tiny tender leaves; her long lashes fluttered like butterfly wings, and her bright eyes reflected the firelight, sparkling with joy as if some happy thought had come to her.

Her soft lips pursed, the corners of her mouth gently curved in a half-smile—so serene and graceful, untouched by the dust of the world, gentle as water, never competing with other beauties. Who was this remarkable woman? The question slipped from his lips before he could stop himself: "Who… who are you?"

But the effort tugged at his wounds, and after so long without water, his voice was hoarse and grating, which made him frown in annoyance. For a moment, he recalled the moments before he had lost consciousness and realized this woman meant him no harm. Even though speaking hurt, he persisted: "Was… was it you… who saved me?"

Yubing, lost in thought, started at the sudden sound. Seeing him awake at last, she smiled with genuine delight. "You’re finally awake!"

With that, she stepped to his side, took his wrist in her hand, and checked his pulse, noting the intense murderous intent that flickered in his eyes.

His sudden flash of hostility did not escape her notice; she knew the importance of caution. But it did not trouble her.

Her lips curled in a slight smile. "Yes, your recovery is progressing well. Your pulse is steady, so there’s nothing seriously wrong. But remember, don’t let your wound get wet, and don’t use your inner energy carelessly. If the wound splits again, not even the gods could save you."

Seeing his wariness, as if he were ready to fight at any moment, Yubing spoke with grave seriousness.

Perhaps because she made no threatening move, his alert gaze gradually softened. He looked out, taking in the vast sweep of barren mountains, the distant peaks, the lush leaves swaying in the wind. Confused, he asked, "Where… where is this?"

"Tianping Mountain," Yubing replied, catching the bewilderment in his voice.

"Tianping Mountain?" he echoed. "Which Tianping Mountain? And what county is this?"

"Bazhou."

At her answer, he started in shock. "You mean, this is Tianping Mountain in Yilong County, Bazhou—the one known as the Forbidden Forest of the Great Tang?"

"Yes," she replied quietly, tossing a stray stick back into the fire.

Her words chilled him, as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him. It was no dream—this was real.

But he could not understand: when had his gentle, loving mother become so cruel? He was her son, her own flesh and blood! Yet she had driven him out like a beggar, and still unsatisfied, sent men to hunt him down.

Luckily, he had escaped death, thanks to this other woman. Looking at her—so pure and ethereal, gentle and kind—he felt her calm words quietly soothe his resentment.

A graceful smile played at his lips, curiosity shining in his eyes. "May I ask, what is your name?" He truly wanted to know who this soft-spoken, strong-willed woman was.

"Is it proper to ask a young lady her name before introducing yourself?" Yubing caught the flush that suddenly crept over his face and could not help but tease him in return.

"Ah… I was indeed rude," he confessed, a faint blush coloring his handsome face once more.

"My surname is Zhang, given name Huai, courtesy name Zixian. I am from Luoyang, just past my coming-of-age. My family has been merchants for generations, but recently I offended someone powerful. I have been hunted for half a month and thought I would surely die. Thanks to you, I have survived once again." His eyes flickered as he touched his well-bandaged wound, testing her. "And you? Are you a physician?"