[The Mistaken Identity]
The night her house arrest ended, Si Yirou stood before her mirror. She styled her hair in the same half-updo Gu Xingyu favored and donned a plain white robe with a dark cyan belt. Even the embroidery on her sleeves was a perfect match. "I'm going to tear off that fake Saintess's mask," she whispered, hiding a silver needle in her bodice before heading toward the guest courtyard.
At the same time, two assassins sent by Preceptor Feng Mian crept through the shadows. Seeing a woman in the exact attire described, they didn't hesitate. Before she could finish her shout of "Impudence!", the knockout powder took effect. They bundled her into a sack and fled toward a shack in the western outskirts.
Only when the signal was sent did the cold reply come through the water mirror: "You fools. You took the wrong person. The Saintess is still in her room. You have abducted Princess Si Yirou."
The assassins paled. Terrified of execution, they bolted the door from the outside and fled into the night, leaving the Princess locked in the freezing shack.
[The Unlikely Savior]
By the next afternoon, Yirou woke up shivering and famished. She had tried to pick the lock with her silver needle, but the wood was swollen from the damp. For the first time in her life, the pampered Princess felt the raw gnaw of hunger and the terror of being forgotten.
Outside, a light, teasing voice approached. "Sang Qi, I told you to watch the horse, not follow me. Now the horse is gone and we're walking back."
"You couldn't hit me if you tried," a deep voice replied. It was Li Yan.
They found the shack and broke the lock. Light flooded in, revealing a disheveled, pale Princess.
"Princess?" Sang Qi gasped. "What are you doing here?"
Yirou tried to maintain her regal facade, but her voice cracked. "...Water."
Sang Qi immediately handed over his waterskin and some dry rations. "Slowly, Your Highness. Take small bites."
Li Yan silently secured the door and checked for ambushes. "They might come back to cover their tracks," he noted. "We must leave."
[The Weight on His Back]
Because Yirou was still weak from the drugs and hunger, Li Yan fashioned a makeshift carrier from vines and her cloak's lining.
"Get on," he said, crouching down.
"I can walk—" she started, but Li Yan's flat tone cut her off. "You're slow. It's nearly sunset."
She eventually gave in. As he lifted her, her chest pressed against his back, and she reflexively gripped his shoulder armor. It was cold steel, but the man beneath it felt like a solid, unshakeable mountain.
They reached a stream as dusk fell. Li Yan built a small fire and made a warm gruel from rations and medicinal herbs Sang Qi had given him.
"Eat," he said, handing her the bowl.
"Thank you," Yirou whispered, the words feeling foreign yet sincere on her tongue.
As he treated a red mark on her wrist with ointment, his rough, calloused hands moved with surprising gentleness.
"Did you do this often... at Grey-Tooth Cliff?" she asked softly.
"No medicine there," he replied. "Only pine resin."
A strange warmth, unrelated to the fire, stirred in her heart. As he prepared to carry her the rest of the way, she leaned against his back and whispered, "Li Yan... don't get hurt."
He didn't turn around, but his pace seemed to steady even further. As the forest shadows grew long, the Princess realized she had surrendered her pride, her safety, and perhaps even a fragment of her heart to the man carrying her through the dark.