Leng Yue had just returned from the other side of the kingdom when he saw the palace bustling with unusual activity. Dozens of men marched in and out of the gates, their armor gleaming under the sun. For a moment, it looked less like war preparations and more like a lantern festival—bright, chaotic, and full of movement. But in the eastern courtyard, the sound of clashing steel and battle cries confirmed the truth: training and combat drills were in full swing.
He made his way through the crowd without pause and headed straight for the inner chamber.
The moment he entered, the Emperor looked up from his scrolls. "How did it go?" he asked.
"Fine, Father," Leng Yue replied, bowing slightly. "The vampire prince is willing to do anything for Yuyan."
The Emperor nodded, but Leng Yue's attention shifted toward his mother, who sat quietly in the corner. Her expression was sad. He walked over and embraced her gently.
"Why does Mother look so sad?" he asked with his voice low.
The Emperor sighed, then told him everything—how Yuyan had argued with them, her refusal to accept the arranged marriage, and the emotional storm that followed.
Leng Yue's face darkened. Without another word, he turned and strode out of the chamber.
Yuyan was still drowning in her sorrow when the door to her room creaked open.
Leng Yue stood at the door, his eyes fixed on her with quiet intension
Yuyan felt his presence, but she didn't turn to look—she didn't have to. The silence between them was suffocating. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly ahead, the weight of betrayal still heavy in her chest.
After a long pause, her voice broke the silence—low, trembling.
"So... you were part of it too."
Leng Yue said nothing.
"You all planned to sell me off like some... commodity." Her voice cracked as she choked back a sob. "And no one even told me."
Leng Yue's jaw tightened. "Sold off?" he repeated, his brow lifting. "Is that what you think this is?"
He took a few steps into the room. "Thousands of soldiers are marching toward our kingdom, Yuyan. Not just any soldiers—men personally trained by the Black Scorpion himself. They're ruthless and they burn cities for sport. Father is terrified and all the ministers are restless. The people—our people—are holding their breath, praying we make it to tomorrow."
His voice began to rise, the strain bleeding through his tone. "And you—the Princess of Lianhua—are locked in your chambers crying over a man you barely know, when the entire kingdom stands on the edge of war!"
Yuyan clenched her fists, her tears falling freely now.
"You think this is about you being married off?" Leng Yue continued, voice sharp. "Would you rather end up in the Black Scorpion's pleasure house? Do you even know what that means?"
He paused, his gaze hard on her. "Or would you rather marry a man who might save our people, stand beside a hero who fought to protect this land?"
She looked up at him then, looking broken and helpless. Before she could speak, he turned away.
"Grow up, Yuyan," he said coldly. "You don't have the luxury of being a child anymore."
And with that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
---
Meanwhile, in the kingdom of Lingxia, prince Yan Qing had made up his mind—this was the moment to act. With most of Hei Xiezhi's forces mobilized for the upcoming war against Lianhua, the pleasure house where Jia Yu was being held had been left with only a skeleton guard. It was the first weakness he had seen in months.
Hei Xiezhi wasn't a man who tolerated failure, especially when facing a kingdom as powerful as Lianhua. He had ordered every available soldier from Lingxia and his neighboring regions to march with him, leaving behind only a handful to maintain order.
Yan Qing knew this was his chance.
And Jia Yu—clever and unbroken despite everything—sensed it too.
For weeks, she'd been biding her time, pretending to be compliant, and also forming sick, hiding the fire in her eyes.
The night air was thick with silence. Most of the soldiers had been pulled to the frontlines, leaving the once heavily guarded pleasure house vulnerable.
Prince Yan Qing moved like a shadow through the alleys behind the house, cloaked in black. He'd memorized every guard rotation, every exit, every weak point. The moment he'd heard the Black Scorpion had pulled his troops, he knew it was now or never.
Inside, Jia Yu sat by her window, staring at the moon, unaware of the storm brewing just beyond the walls. Her eyes were tired, but her spirit hadn't dimmed. She still held on__waiting hopefully.
A faint knock on the wooden panel startled her. Her heart froze and then—two knocks. There was a pause and then two more.
That was a signal.
She rushed to the door and opened it. There he was.
"Yan Qing…" she breathed, almost unable to believe it.
"Shh," he whispered, pulling her close. "We don't have much time."
He handed her a dark robe and quickly covered her hair. The soft glow from the hallway lit his face—calm, focused, but burning with purpose.
"I thought you weren't coming," she whispered as he led her toward the side passage.
"I gave you my word," he said, pausing as two guards turned the corner. He held her against the wall, barely breathing. The guards passed without noticing.
Once the path cleared, they slipped into the kitchen, then out into the servant's garden. A rope hung from the outer wall—already in place. Yan Qing helped her climb, then followed without a sound.
They landed on the other side.
Jia Yu turned to him, her eyes wide. "What now?"
"Now," he said, voice steady, "we run."
And they did—into the dark, toward freedom.
The forest was quiet—but not still.
Branches snapped behind them, faint, but unmistakable. Someone was following.
Yan Qing tightened his grip on Jia Yu's hand. "Faster," he murmured. "We're not alone."
They darted through the trees, their feet crunching over dead leaves.
Behind them, voices shouted in Lingxia's dialect. Horses snorted and metal clinked.
"They're closing in," Jia Yu panted.
Yan Qing veered left, yanking her down a slope. They slid through underbrush, landing beside a shallow stream.
"We'll follow the water," he said.
But when Jia Yu turned, she froze—more soldiers were closing in from the opposite side.
"We won't outrun them," she whispered, trembling. "There are too many."
Yan Qing scanned the cliffs ahead. Then he saw it—a rope bridge, fragile but still intact.
"There," he pointed. "Go, I'll hold them off."
"I'm not leaving you!" she cried.
He cupped her face. "You trusted me once so trust me again. Run!"
With tears in her eyes, she turned and sprinted for the bridge.
Yan Qing held his ground, slashing a scout who lunged toward him. Then, hearing the bridge creak, he turned and bolted after her.
Arrows whistled through the trees. One struck the plank near his foot and another snapped a rope.
The bridge swayed violently.
Yan Qing leapt the last few steps just as the bridge gave way behind him. It collapsed, dragging two soldiers down into the ravine.
There was now silence and it was obvious they were alone again.
Breathing hard, Yan Qing found Jia Yu at the edge, her hands trembling, her eyes wide with relief.
"You came for me again," she whispered.
"I always will," he said, brushing hair from her face.
Later that night, the river carried them deep into the woods. The current slowed as they drifted past jagged rocks and weeping trees. Dawn was just beginning to stain the sky.
At the shallows, near a wooden crossing, Yan Qing steered the raft to shore and helped Jia Yu out. She was barefoot, bruised, and shivering—but alive.
"We'll cut through the forest," he said. "There's a village nearby. They'll shelter us."
They moved quickly, staying low beneath the trees. When Jia Yu stumbled, her ankle twisting, Yan Qing caught her mid-fall.
"I'm fine," she muttered, pushing forward.
"No, you're not," he said—and without asking, lifted her onto his back.
By sunrise, they reached a cluster of quiet huts. Smoke rose from clay rooftops. A child chased a chicken down the dusty path. Villagers stopped and stared at the two strangers__ soaked and breathless.
An old woman stepped forward. "What happened to you?"
"We escaped from Lingxia," Yan Qing said.
The woman's eyes narrowed in awareness. "Come. You can't stay long—but you can rest."
Within the hour, they were wrapped in dry robes, sitting near a clay stove. A young boy brought herbs for Jia Yu's ankle and a farmer whispered an offer to help disguise them.
That night, under a thatched roof and the soft scent of firewood, Jia Yu curled beside Yan Qing on a straw mat. Her limbs still ached, but for the first time in weeks, she felt safe.
"They'll come for us, won't they?" she whispered. No, there is nothing to attract them here.
And under the hush of night, they drifted into sleep.