In the spring, snow fell like powdered flour at night. Flakes of snow drifted across the moat surrounding Luoyang City like scattered silver. The east wind of dusk had blown down large clumps of early-blooming plum blossoms, which now lay quietly on the water's surface, floating on the residual ice and showing no sign of sinking.
The Jin Yong City to the northwest was brightly lit, and behind it, Mount Mang was covered in snow, shrouded in mystery.
On both sides of Tongtuo Street, elm and poplar trees were planted along the road. A carriage with a flat top and a canopy moved quietly along.
The young man driving the carriage buried his head under his hat, looking as if he were asleep.
Suddenly, a chaotic sound of copper bells came from the cold, silent road, growing louder and closer, accompanied by the rustling sound of bare feet on the snow. The driver drew his cold sword, lifted his hat, and looked down the wide imperial road.
The spring snow of the twelfth year of Xingqing fell calmly and quietly.
The cold fragrance of the plum blossoms penetrated to the bone, making one's hair and skin tingle.
The person who was running towards them from the night, panting as if they were about to vomit, became more and more urgent as they got closer, shattering the mournful sound of the copper bells.
The driver tightened the reins of the vermilion silk horse and turned his head to whisper, "Master, it's a woman."
The person in the carriage did not respond.
The carriage curtain was lifted by the wind, revealing a half-exposed wrist resting on a knee. A whip wound, raw and bloody, was clearly visible on it.
"Shall we stop her?"
A cough came from the carriage, followed by two emotionless words.
"No need."
For a moment, the horse's hooves stopped, its tail swirled up the snow powder, patiently waiting for the terrified person who was getting closer and closer on the road ahead.
Her hair, a raven-black cascade, tumbled to her knees, now liberated from the confines of pins and ornaments. With every unsteady step, it danced like a ghost in the wind. The copper bells around her ankles clattered together in chaos, scraping against the ground with a discordant, grating sound.
She was naked from the waist down, her legs as slender and smooth as jade pillars, marred by countless bruises on her knees. She looked as if she had been subjected to unimaginable torture. Her eyes were bloodshot, her lips cracked, and her body seemed to be disjointed, like a wisp of smoke tinged with ash, drifting towards the horse's head.
The horse, instead of being startled, lowered its head and gently nuzzled her face, its breath hot against her skin.
"Save me..."
Her voice was almost seductive.
"Master, please save me..."
The driver tugged on the reins, pulling the horse's head back. The horse reared, kicking up snow that flew into her face. Gasping for breath, she curled up into a ball, her shoulders hunched and her back arched. The delicate bones of her shoulder blades were visible through her thin robe, a stark contrast to the languid sensuality of her pose.
"Master, please... save me..."
The driver stared at her for a moment, then forced his gaze away and looked behind him.
The houses along the road were gradually illuminated by the flames, and the sound of armor clinking against saddles grew louder. The horse before them grew restless, and the driver tightened the reins, shouting, "Who's chasing you?"
"I... I don't know..."
She crawled forward a few steps, grabbed the horse's leg, and looked up at the driver with pleading eyes. "If they catch me, I'll be killed. Please save me... I'll... I'll repay you, I'll serve you..."
The horse took another step back, causing her to stumble forward. Her shoulders slumped, and her hips involuntarily lifted as her robe slid down her back.
A cold wind carrying icy particles swept over her exposed skin. Her eyes widened, and she began to sob. "Save me... please..."
"Bring her up," the voice from the carriage commanded, still emotionless.
The driver hesitated, then tightened his grip on the reins and turned back. "But Master, today..."
"Be quiet," the man snapped, his voice cold as ice.
The driver dared not say another word. He sheathed his sword, dismounted, and scooped the woman up in one arm.
The carriage was dark, save for the outline of a man. A thick, cloying smell of blood filled the air, making her gag.
"Want to live?" the voice came from the darkness.
"Yes..."
"Then don't make a sound."
Before she could respond, a hand clamped down on her waist and lifted her onto his lap. Her body went rigid, and she let out a muffled cry.
"What did I just say?"
His voice was like a knife blade slicing through the air.
"I..."
"Want to be thrown out?"
"No, no, I won't make a sound, I won't, please don't throw me out..."
Fearful of being abandoned, she reached out and grabbed his wrist, but recoiled at the feel of the raw flesh. He yanked his arm away and threw a handkerchief in her face.
"Gag yourself."
The handkerchief was stained with blood, and as she stuffed it into her mouth, she could taste the iron.
She dared not disobey, so she endured the churning in her stomach and stuffed the cloth into her mouth, bit by bit.
Outside, the flames drew closer, and the driver's voice carried in, "Master, those chasing her are from the Inner Guard of the Central Military."
"Who's leading them?"
There was a pause outside as if they were discussing something. Then a voice replied, "Unknown."
As soon as the words were spoken, they were surrounded.
The flickering fire illuminated a corner of the carriage. She finally realized the source of the blood.
In the snowy early spring, the cold seeped into her bones. The man in front of her was only wearing a thin robe, stained with blood. His wrist, the one she had grabbed, hung limply before her, a fresh whip wound marring it.
Her heart pounded. She was about to look up at his face when she heard his low voice, "Don't look up. Close your eyes."
Then, a voice from outside sent a shiver down her spine. "We are ordered to capture the traitor who attempted to assassinate the Emperor. Who is in the carriage? Come out and identify yourself!"
The driver replied, "This carriage belongs to the Grand Secretary."
The leader reined in his horse and bowed. "Your Excellency Zhang, the fugitive we've been chasing is no ordinary criminal. We've been pursuing them all the way here, and now we've encountered your carriage. Out of a sense of duty, we must investigate further. Please forgive us."
With that, he dismounted, torch in hand, and walked towards the carriage.
The warmth of the torch penetrated through the carriage curtain, warming her from behind.
Her fingers and toes dug into the soft cushions as she huddled closer to him.
The man glanced down at her and gently pressed his hand against her exposed thigh. "Don't move."
His voice was barely a whisper, but those outside could still hear him.
The leader hesitated. "Your Excellency, might I ask who else is in the carriage with you?"
There was no response from inside the carriage, only a heavy, oppressive silence.
The leader hesitated, but duty called. He moved closer.
The torchlight pierced through the thin silk curtain, illuminating the figures inside.
The woman's slender shoulders trembled in the flickering light, her disheveled robe revealing a glimpse of her bare back. Her hips were arched provocatively against the man's thigh, and his hand rested possessively upon them.
It was a scene of illicit desire. Even from a distance, it was clear that the woman was a stunning beauty.
The leader stared, transfixed.
"Have you seen enough?"
A cold voice pulled everyone back to reality.
"Your Excellency, I apologize for any intrusion."
"Duty calls. Now that you've seen, you may leave."
As if casually, the man patted the woman's warm, flushed skin. "Jiang Ling."
The driver replied, "Yes, Master."
"Gouge out their eyes."
A blood-curdling scream pierced the air.
Before anyone could react, the driver had gouged out the eyes of the leader, who fell to his knees, clutching his face and howling in pain.
The others were too terrified to move. They watched in horror as the man writhed on the ground, blood streaming from his empty eye sockets.
The torch was dropped and rolled away, illuminating the man's contorted face.
"It hurts... it hurts so much..."
The man's cries grew weaker and weaker until he could no longer breathe. Blood flowed from his eye sockets like two crimson snakes.
The others were too terrified to move. Their weapons trembled in their hands, and none dared to approach the carriage.
The man in the carriage pulled down his sleeve to cover the whip wound on his wrist. He looked down at the woman on his lap.
She was biting down on the cloth gag, her robe had slipped down to reveal her midriff.
He lifted his hand and removed it from her hip. As soon as his hand left her, her legs trembled and the bells on her ankles jingled.
"Get down."
She didn't hesitate. She rolled off his lap and kowtowed. "Thank you, Master, for saving my life."
"Why won't you look at me?"
"I... I saw nothing."
He smiled coldly and grabbed her chin, lifting her face. "Don't lie to me."
She clung to his hand, terrified. "Please don't kill me... I won't tell anyone... I promise."
"The living can't be trusted."
"Then..."
Fear consumed her. She trembled uncontrollably. "Master, please cut out my tongue... or burn my vocal cords..."
She let go of his hand and hung limply in his grasp. "I don't want to die... I can't die..."
His grip tightened. "You can't die? You're nothing but a lowly prostitute. What do you have to live for?"
But she raised her voice. "I'm not a prostitute! My brother is waiting for me."