In the next instant, Murong Feng kicked out the fire. Before Luo Huanghun could even regret the lost rabbit, he tackled her to the ground. The sound of blades slicing through the air rang in her ears!
“There are assassins. Close your eyes and don’t look—I can protect you.” Murong Feng’s low voice was steady by her ear. Luo Huanghun pressed against his chest, listening to his strong, calm heartbeat, and felt no fear.
How many people wanted Murong Feng dead? The Prime Minister would never let him go!
She shouldn’t have let him take her out for fun…
Murong Feng fought his way out with Luo Huanghun. Even while protecting her, his martial skills gave them the upper hand.
But when the assassins couldn’t get to him, they targeted Luo Huanghun. Suddenly, an arrow flew toward her, and Murong Feng could only shield her with his own body.
He grunted in pain, but then exploded into action, pulling out the arrow and striking back, opening a path for their escape.
Murong Feng’s previous knife wound hadn’t healed, and now he had a fresh arrow wound and was soaked by rain. Once they were out of danger, he soon collapsed.
Luo Huanghun dragged him along for a long time, until she herself fainted from exhaustion.
When she woke, the first thing she saw was the battered Murong Feng, and she immediately burst into tears.
“Stop crying, I’m not dead yet—you’re giving me a headache…” came a hoarse voice. Luo Huanghun looked over and saw Murong Feng awake, frowning at her.
He looked so frightening now, he could scare children into silence.
But Luo Huanghun wasn’t afraid. “Who’s crying for you?”
She looked at him through teary eyes, saw his wounds upon wounds, and remembered he’d taken them for her. She couldn’t stop her tears.
Murong Feng closed his eyes, exasperated. “Fine, cry if you want. Just…”
He sounded so reasonable…
“Just what?” Luo Huanghun moved closer, wanting to hear.
The next second, a strong arm pulled her in, pressing her head to Murong Feng’s shoulder. “Cry on me, Luo Huanghun. I won’t ever leave you alone.”
In that moment, Luo Huanghun felt like a traveler in the desert who had finally found an oasis after wandering for so long.
“Murong Feng, please don’t get hurt anymore…” She sniffled, crying on his shoulder for a long time. Finally, worried about hurting his wounds, she stood up.
“I’ll go find medicine. I can treat your injuries.”
Looking around, Luo Huanghun recognized the place—it was the bamboo hut behind Baima Temple where she’d once stayed.
At the door, a kindly old monk entered. It was Master Liao Ran of Baima Temple.
“Amitabha. Fate brings people together and apart in a single thought. Miss Luo, we meet again.”
Master Liao Ran’s wise and clear eyes were full of warmth. He was an old friend of Luo Huanghun’s grandfather and had always been kind to her.
He led her to the courtyard, where a Go board was already set up on the stone table.
“Come, let’s play a game.”
Luo Huanghun was surprised—how did Master Liao Ran know she could play? In her previous life, after leaving here, they never met again.
She’d only learned to play chess after her wedding to Ren Jingsi, to pass the time while sitting alone in her empty room.
But now, distracted by worries, she lost quickly.
“Let the past go. If you have a second chance, it means your fate isn’t finished. Follow your heart, and you will break through this tribulation.”
He really did know she had been reborn!
Luo Huanghun looked up in shock, but Master Liao Ran only smiled kindly, said nothing more, and quietly left.