Ch 61: The Regent’s Farmer Husband

Jiang Ji’s stomach felt as if it were about to turn inside out.

He had been tossed sideways over the horse’s back like a sack of grain, his head dangling down, his belly pressed right against the saddle. Each gallop jarred his gut, pounding it over and over, sending waves of nausea surging up his throat. He barely managed to choke it down.

His mouth was stuffed with cloth. He tried to push it out with his tongue, but the wad was jammed too tight, pinning his tongue flat so he couldn’t budge it.

Fortunately, his stomach was empty—otherwise, he might have choked to death on his own vomit.

Inside the burlap sack, the air grew thin. Jiang Ji’s head pounded, his chest tight as breathing became harder. He pressed his nose against the fabric, drawing in what little air seeped through the coarse weave.

At least the sack was breathable, he thought dimly. Thank heaven his nose wasn’t stuffed from a cold, or he’d already be suffocating.

He didn’t know how long they rode before the horses finally began to slow. Just as he was about to lose consciousness, someone hauled him up and tossed him to the ground. His hip and elbow struck gravel, pain lancing through him, dragging him back from the edge of fainting.

Then, someone yanked the sack off his head. Fresh air rushed into his lungs—he gasped greedily, gulping down life.

Time passed in a blur before his foggy mind began to clear.

When he opened his eyes, he saw dark leaves above him, a scatter of stars peeking through the gaps, faintly lighting the night.

Nearby, voices murmured.

He turned his head. A ring of men sat around a campfire, roasting rabbits and wild pheasants.

He counted quickly—fourteen of them in all. Their horses were tied to the trees nearby.

The smell of roasting meat wafted over, making his empty stomach twist painfully. His jaw and cheeks ached from the gag; the rag in his mouth was soaked with saliva, sticky and suffocating, making him want to retch even more.

He lay still on the ground, breathing slowly, gathering his strength.

In his mind, he called out, “2977, 2977, can you hear me?”

【What does the host require?】

Jiang Ji’s eyes lit up. “You can communicate through thought?”

【You always could.】

“Then give me a spring knife.”

【A spring knife is classified as a weapon. This is the Farming System; weapons cannot be exchanged.】

“An electric baton, then?”

【Also unavailable.】

“A sleeping drug?”

【No. Reminder: This system is the Farming System. Only agricultural and related tools, foods, and daily necessities can be exchanged.】

“…What about those medicines before?”

【Medical rewards are for ensuring the host’s survival only.】

“…Fine. Exchange a fruit knife. That’s a daily necessity, right?”

【Approved. A folding fruit knife requires eight points. Exchange now?】

“Make sure it folds small—something I can hide in my hand.”

【Exchange complete. Folding fruit knife delivered. Points deducted.】

A moment later, a compact folding knife appeared in Jiang Ji’s palm, small enough to fit discreetly in his hand.

With his wrists bound behind his back, he rolled slightly to the side, opened the knife, and began sawing slowly through the ropes.

When the time came, he thought grimly, he could always exchange a cleaver next—something meant for chopping bones. That would do the job.

By the firelight, Jiang Ji carefully studied the kidnappers. The one nearest him had his sleeves rolled up from the heat, exposing a tattoo on his arm—an eerie blue skull.

A skull.

Jiang Ji’s eyes widened.

No way—these men couldn’t be… Skull Mountain bandits?

He looked again. Several others had rolled-up sleeves too, and on two more arms, he spotted the same tattoo.

Damn it.

They really were Skull Mountain bandits!

Jiang Ji froze completely.

“Boss, if their family’s coming all the way here, it’ll be daylight by the time they arrive. This place is too far out. Who knows if they’ll even dare travel at night?”

“Stalk,” said another man, “you sure this family’s got a hundred thousand taels?”

The skinny man—Stalk, the one who’d been tailing Jiang Ji—answered, “Of course they do! More than ten counties! I checked it out. They sold grain seed at forty coins a jin—do the math, that’s a mountain of silver!”

“Do the math, my ass. You know I can’t count, and you’re still showing off!”

Someone kicked Stalk in the shin. He jumped aside, grinning. “Anyway, they’ve got money, that’s all that matters. Didn’t Hu Yuanwu say the same thing in the spring? That this kid’s rich? He just got away that time.”

“Watch your mouth,” another warned.

Someone glanced toward Jiang Ji. He quickly shut his eyes, pretending to be unconscious.

But his mind was roaring.

Hu Yuanwu?

Wasn’t that the Prefect’s name?

Stalk said “in the spring”… Did that mean they’d already planned to rob him back then?

He remembered when he’d gone to Huawen County to sell seeds—he’d been carrying a fortune. He and Jiang Yan had taken a detour home through Nanping County, just to be safe.

So back then, they’d already escaped an ambush without even knowing it.

Confirmed—these men really were the bandits from Skull Mountain!

So back in the spring, had they already been colluding with Hu Yuanwu?

Could it be that these bandits were actually under Hu Yuanwu’s protection? Was that why the authorities could never seem to deal with them—because someone powerful was shielding them?

Or perhaps Hu Yuanwu was still holding a grudge, having lost face to him before, and leaked his whereabouts to the bandits on purpose?

Jiang Ji’s mind spun rapidly through one possibility after another.

Now that he had been captured by these Skull Mountain bandits, could he still make it out alive?

His heart sank to the bottom of his chest.

But he had to try—he couldn’t just die here. That would be far too unjust!

The bandits were still chatting among themselves.

“Eh, what’s there to worry about? The brat’s probably fainted. He twitched a bit on the road earlier, but he’s been still since.”

“You sure he’s not dead?”

“I’ll check.”

Footsteps approached. Jiang Ji went limp, breathing slowly and evenly.

A finger pressed under his nose. After a moment, the man’s footsteps retreated.

“He’s still breathing.”

The group relaxed.

Jiang Ji dared not open his eyes now. He forced himself to stay utterly still, to shrink his presence, to avoid drawing any unnecessary attention that might lead to a beating—or worse.

Then the thin man’s voice—Stalk—sounded again. “Hey, I’m telling you, this kid’s got a restaurant in Changping County. The food’s amazing. There’s this new thing called ‘chili,’ real spicy stuff. I ate there twice—tch tch—the flavor! None of the inns in the nearby counties can compare. The place is packed every noon.”

“Yeah? When we get the ransom, we should go eat there too!”

“Eat there, my ass,” someone snorted. “You dare go into town? Aren’t you scared the constables will catch you?”

“What’s there to fear? I’ll shave my beard, wear a long robe—at least I’ll look like a refined gentleman.”

“Refined, my foot! You’re so ugly I nearly lost my dinner!”

“Haha! Ten thousand taels of silver—once we finish this job, we’ll live easy for years!”

“Yeah! I’ll finally be able to buy Juan’er from Yicui House!”

“Damn it, all you think about is women. I’m going back to the gambling den to settle the score with that Lin bastard!”

“You already won the courtesan, of course you don’t care!”

The bandits burst out laughing, loudly fantasizing about how they’d spend their fortune.

A while later, someone climbed up the slope.

“Who’s there?”

The scar-faced leader’s hand went straight to his sword. The others tensed, weapons ready.

“Boss, it’s me!”

A man appeared, leading a horse—it was the one Jiang Ji had seen before, the one who had delivered the ransom note.

Seeing him return, Jiang Ji realized that meant the letter had reached home. His family now knew he’d been kidnapped.

His mother was probably terrified. The family was made up of women, children, and the elderly—only Jiang Yan could be relied upon.

Knowing Jiang Yan’s temperament, he definitely wouldn’t let Zhao Ru take the risk. The one coming to ransom him would surely be Jiang Yan.

Jiang Ji silently prayed that Jiang Yan would seek help from Magistrate Xu, not charge in recklessly on his own.

“Third Brother’s back? You got the letter delivered?”

“Delivered!” the man said, tying up his horse and sitting down heavily. He grabbed a roasted chicken leg and tore into it. “I made some random guy deliver it for me.”

Stalk thought for a moment. “That kid Jiang Ji doesn’t have a father, right? Just an old mother, a younger sister, and two little brothers. Oh, and that one called Jiang Yan. Think they’ll report this to the officials?”

Third Brother took another bite. “I told the messenger to warn them—if they report to the authorities, we’ll chop off one of Jiang Ji’s arms.”

“Good enough. Even if they set out right away, it’ll take them three or four hours. We can still get some sleep.”

“They don’t have horses?”

Stalk shook his head. “No. Every time Jiang Ji goes to town, he walks and drags a handcart himself.”

“Rich as he is, and he doesn’t buy a carriage?”

“Who knows—maybe he can’t ride.”

Jiang Ji: … It’s because the house isn’t finished yet—there’s nowhere to keep one!

The scar-faced leader spoke up. “Stay alert. We don’t know if they’ll try reporting this.”

“Yes, Boss.”

After they’d eaten their fill, the scar-faced man sent a few to guard the three paths leading up the hill. The rest lay down to sleep.

When all was quiet, Jiang Ji slowly opened his eyes. Everyone seemed to be asleep. The scar-faced leader rested against a tree, blade in his arms, facing Jiang Ji’s direction.

The fire crackled softly. Jiang Ji kept slicing at the rope bit by bit.

At last, his wrist came free.

A surge of joy rose in his chest—but just as he began to move, one bandit got up to relieve himself, and another suddenly sat up, rubbing his eyes.

Jiang Ji froze again. These men weren’t sleeping deeply. If he moved now, he’d be caught in seconds. There were guards at every path down the hill anyway—he’d never escape.

He had to wait for the right moment.

*

Out on the main road, a troop of riders galloped through the night, startling the birds from the trees.

Under the faint starlight, Captain Zhou Lin studied the terrain and caught up with Jiang Yan. “Jiang Yan, this should be close. Turtle Ridge is about ten li ahead—the fork’s just up there.”

Jiang Yan reined in his horse, and the thirty-six riders behind him did the same, dismounting together.

The county only had ten horses of its own; six more came from Lord Chen’s men, and the rest Jiang Yan had bought from the stable himself.

Zhou Lin called out, “Everyone, check your weapons! Nothing missing?”

The men went over their gear—spears, sabers, bows, daggers, wound medicine—all armed and ready.

“All here.”

Jiang Yan checked his own gear as well—his saber at his waist, the dagger strapped to his calf, the wound medicine tucked inside his chest—everything was in place.

“Lord Zhou, we’ll proceed as planned. Get there as quickly as you can.”

Zhou Lin said, “Alright. Remember—set out half an hour later. Be careful, and wait for us to arrive before you meet them. Don’t go in early, understand?”

Jiang Yan nodded. “Understood.”

Zhou Lin waved his hand. “Xiaopang and A-Fu, you two stay to watch the horses. A quarter hour after Jiang Yan departs, bring the mounts quietly to the area near Turtle Ridge—no unnecessary noise. Everyone else, follow me.”

The group lined up behind Zhou Lin and slipped into the narrow mountain path ahead.

Luckily, there was enough starlight tonight to make out the trail faintly.

Jiang Yan took out a stick of incense marked to burn for exactly half an hour. He lit it and set it on the ground, then helped Xiaopang and A-Fu mind the horses.

He stared down the dark path ahead, his eyes deep and cold as still water.

“Brother Jiang Yan, we’ll save Jiang Ji,” Xiaopang said in reassurance.

“Mm.”

Jiang Yan kept glancing at the incense. Time seemed to crawl—the incense burned slower than any he’d ever seen.

At long last, it finished. Jiang Yan said only, “Wait a quarter hour before moving.”

Then he swung onto his horse, pressed his knees to its sides, and shot off like an arrow into the darkness.

He galloped for several li before slowing down slightly.

The terrain here was all desolate hills. He had never been to Turtle Ridge before and didn’t know which mountain it was exactly.

But after riding a bit farther, he saw it—a fork in the road ahead, with two men sitting there.

This must be the place.

Jiang Yan glanced toward the mountain behind them. It wasn’t high, maybe forty or fifty zhang.

He rode up to the two men, dismounted, and said, “I’m here to ransom Jiang Ji.”

Seeing someone ride up, the two men lazily got to their feet. One had a straw stem between his teeth. “Where’s the money?”

Jiang Yan patted the pouch at his waist. “Right here.”

“Hand it over,” the man said, extending his hand.

Jiang Yan held the pouch steady. “I want to see Jiang Ji first.”

The man spat out his straw and looked him over from head to toe. “Throw over your knife.”

Jiang Yan hesitated, then unbuckled his saber and tossed it across.

The other man caught it, drew it, and pressed the blade against Jiang Yan’s neck. “Hands on your head. Search him.”

Jiang Yan laced his hands over his head. The first man came over and frisked him from top to bottom, pulling a dagger from his pant leg.

The man gave a mocking chuckle, twirling the dagger in his hand, then curled his fingers to his lips and whistled sharply to alert the men on the mountain.

“Move. Don’t try anything.”

They flanked Jiang Yan—one ahead, one behind—and marched him up the mountain path.

Halfway up, on a flat clearing, the scar-faced leader snapped awake at the sound of the whistle.

“They’re here. Everyone up.”

The others, already half-alert, stirred at once.

“Dawn already?”

“It’s not light yet. How’d they get here so fast?”

Jiang Ji had heard the whistle too. At their words, his heart leapt.

Jiang Yan was here?

So soon? The bandits had said dawn at the earliest. It had to be far—did Jiang Yan really come alone on horseback?

Moments later, Jiang Ji saw him being led up the slope. He craned his neck to look behind.

No one else.

Jiang Ji glared at him. “…”

Seriously, big brother—you came alone?

Did you really think the two of us could take on over a dozen armed men?

Jiang Yan swept the area with his eyes and spotted Jiang Ji lying on the ground, bound hand and foot, a cloth gag stuffed in his mouth, staring back at him wide-eyed.

His gaze flicked quickly over Jiang Ji—no bruises on his face, no visible blood. Relief flashed briefly in his eyes.

“Boss, he’s here. Came alone on horseback,” one of the guards said.

The scar-faced leader gave Jiang Yan a sharp look. “You’re sure no one followed?”

“No one. He’s alone.”

Jiang Yan didn’t want to waste words. “The money’s here. One hand for the ransom, one hand for the hostage.”

“Where’s the silver notes?” the scar-faced man asked.

Jiang Yan loosened his pouch, revealing neatly stacked silver drafts inside.

One hundred thousand taels in notes—enough to bulge the leather pouch full. Every bandit’s eyes gleamed.

The scar-faced man gestured to one of his men, who cut the ropes at Jiang Ji’s ankles and dragged him to the leader’s side.

Jiang Ji’s legs, numbed from hours of being bound, nearly gave out. Jiang Yan called out anxiously, “Are you alright?”

Jiang Ji winced at the prickling rush of blood and shook his head, steadying himself.

“He’s here. Bring the money,” the scar-faced man said.

Jiang Yan unfastened the pouch and looked at Jiang Ji. “Come here.”

A bandit glanced toward the leader. The scar-faced man nodded. With this many of them around, there was no way the two could run.

Jiang Ji started toward him.

Then a bandit shouted, “Boss! The rope on this brat’s wrist—he’s been sawing it loose! It’s already cut through!”

At that, Jiang Yan instantly yanked Jiang Ji behind him, facing the men warily.

The scar-faced man gave a lazy glance. “Relax. Even if the rope’s off, there’s nowhere for him to go.”

Jiang Ji: “…”

Jiang Yan reached out, pulled the cloth from Jiang Ji’s mouth, and turned him around to untie the ropes binding his torso.

Only then did he notice the small knife in Jiang Ji’s hand.

Once freed, Jiang Ji rubbed his wrists, then his sore jaw.

“The money,” said the scar-faced man, “toss it here.”

Jiang Yan tossed the pouch over and immediately pulled Jiang Ji to leave, but the bandits blocked their way.

The scar-faced man caught the pouch, unzipped it, glanced inside at the silver notes, and after confirming they were real, zipped it back up again.

Jiang Yan turned to him and said coldly, “We can go now, can’t we?”

The scar-faced man turned the pouch in his hand, lifted his gaze with a half-smile that wasn’t a smile, and said, “You two… better not leave.”

Jiang Yan’s eyes darkened as he pulled Jiang Ji behind him protectively. “Even thieves have a code. You wanted money—you’ve got it. What more do you want?”

Jiang Ji had expected this and was mentally prepared. He quickly scanned left and right, looking for the best side to break through.

“Do you know who we are?” the scar-faced man asked.

“I don’t care who you are,” Jiang Yan said, eyes steady. “You’ve got your money. No need to saddle yourselves with two murder charges.”

The bandits burst into laughter.

“Hahaha! Murder charges? How much do you think a life costs? None of us here doesn’t already have blood on his hands.”

Jiang Yan frowned deeply.

Jiang Ji thought for a moment, then stepped forward and said to the scar-faced man, “If you kill us, you’ll get nothing more. But if you let us go, I’ll send you ten thousand taels every year. How about that?”

Jiang Yan gave him a sharp glance, but Jiang Ji squeezed his hand in reassurance.

The bandits froze for a moment. Could it really work like that?

They exchanged looks.

A steady flow of money every year sounded far better than a one-time ransom.

All eyes turned toward their leader.

The scar-faced man sneered. “Ten thousand taels for your two lives?”

“Yeah,” another bandit jeered. “Trying to buy your way out like we’re beggars?”

“Your own life worth so little?”

“So stingy!”

Jiang Ji sighed. “Then fifteen thousand. That’s the most I can offer. Brothers, this year I made money selling seeds, but there won’t be any next year. Without that, I’ll only have the restaurant. Fifteen thousand taels would drain it dry.”

The thin one, Stalk, shouted, “Your restaurant’s packed every day! How could it earn so little?”

Jiang Ji explained patiently, “It’s because the other taverns don’t have chili yet. Once everyone starts planting it next year, they’ll all sell the same dishes, and my customers will leave. Next year, profits will drop a lot. That fifteen thousand already includes what we earn from farming.”

The bandits didn’t know what kind of crops he grew or how much profit a restaurant made, but Stalk had said the restaurant’s business really was booming only because of the unique chili dishes.

Before they could reach a deal, a sharp whistle cut through the air from the foot of the mountain—followed by the sound of fighting.

“Run!” Jiang Yan shouted, kicking the man beside him and dragging Jiang Ji with him as they bolted.

The bandits realized what was happening, and the scar-faced man roared, “Catch them!”

Jiang Ji was still a little dazed, running like a headless chicken after Jiang Yan.

As he ran, he asked breathlessly, “There’s backup?”

“Yeah. The county captain brought men.”

Jiang Ji’s eyes lit up. Of course—Jiang Yan was too smart to come die alone.

“How many?” he asked.

“Thirty-six.”

“Good odds! Let’s go!” Jiang Ji perked up, grabbing Jiang Yan’s arm and trying to pull him faster.

But the bandits weren’t slow either. They caught up quickly, forcing the two into a fight.

The bandits all had blades. Luckily, Jiang Ji knew some hand-to-hand fighting, though the little knife he held was useless except at close range—and he couldn’t get close enough to use it.

Dodging and rolling, he grabbed a dry tree branch from the ground and swung it wildly at his attackers.

Meanwhile, Jiang Yan had already disarmed one of the bandits and seized his saber. His body moved as if on instinct—his strikes and parries sharp and fluid, like someone who’d done this a hundred times before.

Amid the clash of steel, sudden flashes of memory streaked through his mind—
torrential rain, a ring of black-clad, masked men attacking him all at once…
then himself cornered at a cliff’s edge, slipping, falling—

A stabbing pain split through his head. He faltered for an instant and a blade slashed his arm. Snapping back to focus, he countered immediately, his saber slicing across the attacker’s arm, severing it cleanly.

He wanted to grab another weapon to toss to Jiang Ji, but more enemies swarmed in. Instead, he kicked a fallen blade across the ground toward Jiang Ji.

Catching the glint in the corner of his eye, Jiang Ji rolled, snatched it up, and shouted, “Jiang Yan! You okay?”

“I’m fine—hold on!”

But there were still eleven bandits on the mountain, excluding the four below. Before long, the two were surrounded, both bleeding from several shallow cuts.

Jiang Ji’s back pressed against Jiang Yan’s.

The scar-faced man stood with his arms crossed, watching coldly. “Kill them both!”

Ten bandits surged forward together, blades flashing like silver rain.

Death was only a breath away.

“Damn it—then we’ll take you with us!”

Jiang Ji grit his teeth, raised the saber, and charged. It was his first time wielding a blade, his first time cutting a man—his hands trembled, but cornered in desperation, blood and fury surged up from deep inside, pushing him past fear.

“Jiang Ji!”

Jiang Yan fought fiercely, deflecting attacks on both sides, blocking blows aimed at Jiang Ji whenever he could.

When he saw Jiang Ji rush headlong into the fray, his eyes reddened. He tried to reach him, but the bandits on his side swarmed again, keeping him pinned down.

Unlike the bandits who lived and died by the sword, Jiang Ji had little real fighting experience. He’d only trained in modern-style sparring, not blade work, and his slashes were full of openings.

He was busy blocking the blades in front of him when a bandit suddenly swung his sword toward Jiang Ji’s back.

A wet slicing sound followed—

“Ugh!” Jiang Ji gasped in pain and dropped to his knees.

When Jiang Yan turned around, he saw blood soaking through Jiang Ji’s back. His eyes widened with fury.

“Jiang Ji!”

The bandit raised his sword for another strike, but Jiang Yan rushed forward, deflecting the blow and shielding Jiang Ji with his own body.

“You alright?” Jiang Yan asked.

Jiang Ji was in agony, using his blade for support as he forced himself upright. “Still breathing.”

“Hold on,” Jiang Yan said grimly.

The remaining bandits surged toward him, and Jiang Yan fought desperately to keep them back.

Jiang Ji spat blood, propped himself up, and swung his sword again.

Whoosh—

Whoosh, whoosh—

Arrows suddenly whistled through the night sky, one after another, striking the bandits square in the chest and stomach. They fell one by one.

Captain Zhou Lin had arrived with his men.

They had split into two groups to climb the mountain from both sides—one had been spotted.

Reinforcements!

Jiang Ji’s spirit surged. “Kill—”

He didn’t finish the word before Jiang Yan yanked him aside, dodging an arrow from the rear.

“Fall back!”

The scar-faced leader saw the situation turning against them and shouted, “Retreat!” He bolted first.

The remaining bandits scattered after him, while the wounded ones were quickly caught by Zhou Lin’s men.

Zhou Lin led his soldiers in pursuit. The fleeing bandits were untying their horses, but another group of county soldiers appeared from the opposite side.

Caught between two forces, the bandits were surrounded. Zhou Lin’s troops closed in. Jiang Ji tried to charge after them, but Jiang Yan grabbed his arm. “You still okay?”

“I’m fine!” Jiang Ji turned to him. “What about you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good.” Jiang Ji’s voice hardened. “Kill the bastards!”

He darted forward again, and Jiang Yan followed closely to cover his back.

Jiang Ji fixed his gaze on the scar-faced leader—he still had the pouch of silver notes strapped to his waist.

Seizing the moment while the leader was beset on all sides, Jiang Ji slashed at his back.

“Jiang Yan, now!”

Jiang Yan struck from behind, slicing clean through the leader’s right arm, sending his sword flying, then drove his blade straight into him.

Blood sprayed out. The scar-faced man screamed and was kicked to the ground, pinned by two officers.

Jiang Ji stared, awestruck. He turned to Jiang Yan. “That was amazing!”

So strong—one swing and the man’s arm was gone!

Jiang Yan said nothing.

Seeing the leader subdued, Jiang Ji went over and unbuckled the pouch from his waist. He started to fasten it around his own, but there was a bleeding cut at his side, so he handed it to Jiang Yan instead. “You wear it.”

Jiang Yan took it and strapped it on.

The fighting had mostly ended. Most of the bandits were restrained, though several officers were wounded—but thankfully, none were dead.

“Sir, have they all been caught?” Jiang Ji asked.

“Four escaped,” Zhou Lin replied.

“There’s another pouch—has the rest of the silver notes,” Jiang Ji said.

Zhou Lin searched around, found it on the ground, and handed it back to him.

He didn’t pursue the fugitives further; the main goal tonight had been to rescue Jiang Ji. “You two alright? Can you walk?”

Jiang Ji’s body was covered in wounds—arms, legs, and especially the deep gash across his back.

Now that the battle was over, the tension drained from him, and all at once, pain flooded in. His whole body ached, exhaustion washing over him.

“Yeah… I can walk…” he said weakly—then his vision darkened, and his knees buckled.

“Jiang Ji!” Jiang Yan shouted, catching him before he fell. His hands came away sticky with blood.

“Sir, he’s bleeding too much. I need to stop it.”

Zhou Lin hurried over to support Jiang Ji. “Bring a torch!”

A soldier came forward with one, and when the light hit Jiang Ji’s back, he sucked in a sharp breath. “That bad?”

“Hold him steady,” Jiang Yan said, pulling out the wound medicine from his coat. He uncorked it and poured it over the injury.

Zhou Lin looked over, then shouted to the others, “Rest here for fifteen minutes! Dress all wounds!”

They bound the captured bandits and began treating the wounded.

“Hurry,” Zhou Lin ordered. “We’re too close to Skull Mountain. There are about two hundred men in their main camp. We can’t stay here long. We move out soon.”

Jiang Yan finished bandaging Jiang Ji’s back, waist, and arm.

Barely conscious, Jiang Ji stared at him and whispered, “Jiang Yan… am I dying?”

“With me here, you won’t die.” Jiang Yan patted his face. “Stay awake.”

Jiang Ji gave a faint smile. “But… I’m so tired.”

“Don’t sleep. I’ll get you home soon.”

Jiang Yan lifted him onto his back. “Sir, ready. Let’s go.”

“Move out!” Zhou Lin commanded.

The soldiers, carrying torches and supporting the wounded, began descending the mountain with their prisoners.

Jiang Ji lay limp against Jiang Yan’s back, his eyelids heavy. He couldn’t tell if it was blood loss or death creeping in—only that he was so, so tired.

Still… if he really died here, what a pity. He hadn’t even fallen in love yet.

“Jiang Yan,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” Jiang Yan kept his eyes on the path, walking fast but steady. “Stay awake.”

Jiang Ji nuzzled weakly against his neck. “Jiang Yan, I haven’t married yet. I still need a wife.”

Jiang Yan: “…”

“If… if I don’t die,” Jiang Ji said, forcing the words out, “and if you haven’t married by the time you get your memories back… then you’ll be my wife, alright? I’ll take good care of you. Okay?”

Jiang Yan froze for a beat, his eyes dark. “…Alright.”

Jiang Ji’s lips curved into a faint smile. “You promised. No take-backs.”

“Mm.”

Hearing his answer, Jiang Ji smiled again, and his consciousness slipped away into darkness.

🌾🌾🌾🌾🌾