Jihua was already being led to the ceremony hall. Two maids walked on either side of her, and another followed behind, carefully holding the hem of her heavy wedding dress. The corridor was decorated with ribbons and lanterns, and the distant echoes of music filled the air. And at that moment, Houwei ran out from a side passage.
He stopped right in front of her, breathing heavily. Her escorts exchanged frightened glances.
"My lady..." he exhaled. "If you could... leave right now... Would you leave?"
The question sounded too bold and inappropriate, but the young woman didn't even hesitate. She looked him straight in the eyes and answered confidently:
"Yes."
The man nodded—this was exactly the answer he had been waiting for.
"The commander is looking for you," he said. "He just arrived. Let's go."
The maids were completely bewildered.
"What are you..." one of them began.
Houwei turned sharply to them:
"Return to your room immediately."
His voice was so strict and commanding that they didn't dare to object.
"Go," Jihua whispered to her maid.
The maid looked at her with a worried gaze and, grabbing her hand, squeezed her palm tightly in her own in farewell. Perhaps this would be the last time they saw each other. Jihua smiled warmly, trying to reassure her.
Then she and Houwei looked into each other's eyes, nodded, and ran.
The fabric of the dress rustled, their breath hitched, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. They had already turned toward the garden exit when shouts rang out from behind:
"Stop! Over there!"
"Catch them!"
Houwei looked back:
"Faster!"
They burst into the garden. The bright midday sun blinded their eyes. The young woman ran, gasping for breath. The wedding dress was heavy—layers of expensive fabric pulled her down, tangling around her legs, but she did not stop. Blood pounded in her ears, and before her, she saw only the path leading forward.
Houwei ran beside her, gritting his teeth and not looking back.
"Faster," he threw out, breathing raggedly. "Just a little more."
From behind, very close now, voices rang out again—the guards were rapidly catching up to them. The sunlight glinted on the blades of their swords. Houwei veered sharply off the path and pulled the girl after him, deep into the thick bushes. They stopped when it became clear: it was impossible to keep running together. He turned to her.
"Listen to me carefully," his voice sounded calm and confident. "From here on, you are alone. Straight down this path, to the stone arch. There is a horse waiting there. I will hold them off."
"No!" She grabbed onto his sleeve. "You can't stay here!"
"If I don't stay," he removed her hand, "they will catch us both."
He drew his sword from its scabbard.
"The commander will find you," he assured her.
Her eyes filled with tears. She looked at this young man, whom she barely knew, but who right now was risking his life to give her freedom. In that gaze, Jihua tried to memorize him forever as a sign of boundless gratitude. If before she had caught his displeased and even contemptuous looks, now he looked at her entirely differently. In his eyes, she saw the pain of finally accepting how things were. And this was not an acceptance of imminent death, but of something else, more profound and spiritual.
"You will die..." her voice sounded hoarse and quiet.
Houwei gave a brief chuckle:
"Most likely. But at least not in vain. I will help a friend."
He took a step back, taking a defensive stance and preparing to take the blow—and at that very moment, she saw Yunsheng.
He ran out from the corner of the alley—out of breath, sword in hand. His gaze darted around and suddenly froze. The world around them seemed to stop. His best friend stood with a weapon before the advancing squad of guards. And behind him stood she.
"Houwei..." Yunsheng exhaled, not believing his own eyes.
Houwei turned around. Their eyes met, and in that brief moment, there was no more anger, no past grievances they had managed to utter and feel toward each other.
"Take her away!" he shouted. "Run!"
The guards moved forward. Houwei positioned himself to completely block the narrow passage through which the girl was supposed to flee. He would not let them pass.
Yunsheng lunged forward, grabbed Jihua's hand, and pulled her along through the garden. Their path lay toward the side gates. Every moment this path seemed endless, and the noise of footsteps and shouts behind them grew louder and closer.
"Just a little further!" he whispered to her, feeling her slender fingers trembling in his hand.
Instead of answering, the young woman only squeezed his palm harder, letting him know that she completely trusted him with her life.
But suddenly, a new group of guards leaped out in front of them. Yunsheng instantly shielded the girl with his body, raising his sword. One of the pursuers swung for a strike, another tried to grab Jihua by the arm—Yunsheng deftly knocked the first back with a powerful lunge and deflected the second's attack aside.
"Do not come near her!" he shouted, holding them at a distance. "Not one step closer!"
He was focused and resolute. Jihua stood behind his back, her breathing ragged, and her heart beating in unison with his.
One of the attackers made a sharp lunge, trying to reach his shoulder. Yunsheng dodged to the side—his movements were fluid. With the first swing of his blade, he parried the blow, with the second he forced the opponent to retreat, and with the third, he accurately knocked another guard off his feet. He was breathing heavily, and sweat had broken out on his forehead. Yunsheng gripped the hilt tighter: to protect Jihua—that was the only thing that mattered now.
He made a swift lunge, striking at the nearest enemy, but the man managed to jump back and immediately threw himself into a counterattack. Yunsheng barely had time to block the thrust. At that same moment, a guard from the other side tried to bypass him and grab the girl. Yunsheng shot a quick glance at her and immediately sprang forward. He threw one enemy back with his elbow, but at that moment, another attacker brought down a strike from above—Yunsheng hunched over, and he was slashed across the shoulder.
The man fought with the last of his strength. He felt that the slightest mistake would result in an irreparable tragedy. He could not allow the past to repeat itself again. But there were too many opponents, closing in around them in a ring. Now the goal was not simply to escape, but to survive.