Chapter 47

Her sudden shout even startled Yun Shen. He wasn’t strong to begin with. Clinging to the wall of the pavilion had taken every bit of his strength. His feet were planted on the water-soaked windowsill, slick with water and silt, offering little traction.

Now, as his grip faltered, Yun Shen instantly lost his balance. He pitched outward, clearly about to plummet into the vast, unsubsided river waters below the city.

Though landing in water was better than hitting solid ground — at least it wouldn’t mean losing the precious life he’d barely managed to save — the distance to the river below the Sword Discussion Platform was significant. The pain from such a fall was inevitable. Moreover, Yun Shen was never skilled in physical combat. His climb from the water onto the platform had already exhausted him; falling back in now wouldn’t just leave him drenched like a drowned rat (“soaked to the bone” wasn’t even worth mentioning). With the water still flowing downstream, whether he could keep his life was uncertain!

Among those on the platform, Shen Jie was on the other side and could only watch helplessly. Xu Qiong and Chen Shu, however, were directly facing him. Seeing him fall, Chen Shu, even as she thought he was an “evil spirit,” still had tears glistening in her eyes. Her hand shot out faster than her mind. But halfway, Xu Qiong intercepted it firmly—

They were both perched on a corner of the Sword Discussion Platform, an unstable spot with no reliable foothold. Pulling on a third person risked all three tumbling into the water with the slightest mishap.

Likely for this reason, Xu Qiong, seeing Yun Shen fall, not only didn’t reach out to help, but her first instinct was to shield Chen Shu. It indeed resembled guarding against Yun Shen this “vengeful spirit.”

This protective move caused Chen Shu’s downward-reaching hand and Yun Shen’s upward-grasping hand to brush past each other. Their fingertips almost touched. In the next blink, Yun Shen’s unstable foot found nothing but air. Simultaneously, Chen Shu was pulled back securely onto the Sword Discussion Platform by Xu Qiong. Their moment of near-contact had been fleeting, almost illusory. Now, confronted with Yun Shen’s imminent fall into the water, Chen Shu’s eyes widened in horror.

The tears she had been holding back surged uncontrollably. They swelled into large droplets, tracing their path down her flushed cheeks before disappearing into the muddy sludge beneath them on the platform. It genuinely seemed as if Yun Shen’s near-fall had wrenched this sob from her; the sight was heart-wrenching.

Yet, despite all eyes being on him, Yun Shen slid downward — utterly helpless!

Just then, a pair of hands reached out from another side. They caught Yun Shen’s arms firmly, halting his descent. With one powerful pull, the owner leveraged him back onto the Sword Discussion Platform using mainly one arm.

The platform was already cramped. Even Yun Shen’s slender frame inevitably pushed the unfortunate Ying Wei further back into the crowd, prompting yelps of protest from him.

But no one paid attention to Ying Wei’s exaggerated cries.

Yun Shen steadied himself, patted his long robe with lingering shock, and directly thanked Xuan Qin. Xuan Qin looked at him, a flicker of curiosity, even something to say, held back as he hesitated, replying only with a brief acknowledgment. Receiving this, Yun Shen turned towards Chen Shu, who was still looking up at him, tears welling. He asked with composed ease:

“Why stop crying? And who was it again just shouting about vengeful spirits?”

Chen Shu’s face remained etched with misery, tears continuing their relentless flow, showing no sign of stopping. Yun Shen couldn’t maintain his stern expression, his lips twitching as he visibly struggled not to soften and offer comfort instead.

“…Aren’t you a vengeful ghost?” Chen Shu sniffled, puckering her nose as she asked plaintively.

Yun Shen spread his hands. A mixture of exasperation and amusement tinged his reprimand: “If I were a vengeful ghost, I’d have simply flown back up. Would I have needed Xuan Qin’s help, Young Master? And you – weren’t you shouting so loudly just now… ‘Yun Shen is dead—’”

The constant sound of flowing water filled the air, punctuated by the occasional splash as someone either dove in for a rescue or someone rescued was pulled, struggling, from the depths.

Yun Shen’s words abruptly stopped midway.

Not just him. Even Xu Qiong opposite him let out a soft, surprised gasp. They watched Chen Shu swiftly rise from the edge of the Sword Discussion Platform. Her movements were fluid, smooth, completely disregarding whatever Yun Shan was still saying. Without hesitation, she embraced him.

The force was so great it pushed Yun Shen back half a step.

The daylight, colorless and dull, bathed those still alive in the city. Yet, it was the only light the city offered. The murmur of conversation finally sprinkled a measure of liveliness onto this flame-less metropolis. It felt like autumn leaves, shattered by the wind, were finally buried by fresh earth after the rain, releasing a scent evocative of a spring night.

If one listened closely, one could faintly hear Chen Shu’s muffled sniffles against Yun Shen’s chest, along with the subtle rasp of damp fabric as Yun Shen, hesitantly at first, raised his hand only to then slowly, naturally, settle it on the nape of her neck. The friction of the wet clothes produced tiny, whispering sounds.

“I really thought you were dead! Completely and utterly dead!” Chen Shu cried hoarsely, her head buried firmly in Yun Shen’s chest. Her arms were locked around his waist, clutching desperately at his already pitifully torn robe. Her grip pulled the collar so taut it was already bruising his neck, yet she showed no sign of loosening her hold.

Xu Qiong stepped forward to intervene, but the murmurs and then chuckles spreading through the tightly packed platform stopped her short. A flush rose on her face, whether of anger or embarrassment, and she whipped her head around. Simultaneously, Yun Shen raised his head, his expression coldly sweeping over the spectators. However, before he could speak, he saw Xu Qiong glare with exceptional ferocity at the instigator. She even barely drew her sword a finger’s width. The cold glint from the exposed blade momentarily reflected onto the troublemaker’s face. Instantly, all whispers and snickers ceased.

Only Chen Shu’s intermittent crying remained, clinging to the air.

“Well, who told you to leave me behind? Look at me – so thin, so weak…” Yun Shin stroked her head, finally defending himself—or perhaps not entirely defending himself. A hint of unintended teasing colored his tone. He wasn’t serious; he merely adopted the pose of serious justification. He gently lifted her tear-streaked, grubby face. “…Weren’t you the one who promised to protect me?”

Chen Shu’s sob hitched; she grew even more aggrieved. “You never asked me to take you with me when I went out to rescue people!”

“So what did you expect me to do?” Yun Shen asked, a smile finally breaking through as he wiped away the tangled tracks of tears and specks of mud from her face. “You were off saving an entire city, not off on some trivial errand. It’s perfectly reasonable you couldn’t spare a thought for me. Was I supposed to cling to a city pillar and yell, ‘Save me, to hell with the people of Diancang Pass’?”

An even deeper stillness settled over the Sword Discussion Platform. Held breaths became the norm. Nobody dared make a sound. Someone even covertly kicked the fellow who had started the earlier disturbance.

“But you could beg me!” Chen Shu seized Yun Shen’s hand that was wiping her tears, pressing the warm pads of her fingers decisively against his cool, tear-dampened wrist. Tears still glistening, she declared solemnly,

“The next time you say, ‘Please, Little Shu, I’ll truly die without your protection,’ I will remember to shield you without fail!”

Shen Jie had already plunged back into the water for another rescue. Xu Qiong’s mouth hung open in shock. Ying Wei stood rooted to the spot, scratching his head in bewildered silence. Xuan Qin watched Yun Shen calmly, seemingly studying his expression.

Yun Shen himself showed no sign of protest. His wrist remained obediently within Chen Shu’s grasp. He fixed his gaze on her, stared for a long moment, and actually replied:

“Alright. Next time, I’ll say, ‘Please, Little Shu, I’ll truly die without you.'”

Coincidentally, He Yu arrived back from the other side of the city just in time to hear these words. He froze mid-motion, nearly losing his footing and plunging into the undercurrent.

He coughed violently, swallowing several mouthfuls of murky water before Shen Jie hauled him unceremoniously onto the bank.

Gasping for breath once ashore, he shot several searching looks toward Chen Shu. He seemed desperate to drag Chen Shu—who was still huddled in Yun Shen’s arms, using his robe to vigorously wipe her tears—over and demand an explanation. But Shen Jie spared him no leisure, immediately asking, “How are things by the city gates?”

“The breach in the city wall isn’t large, but the force of the water is widening the fissures nearby, naturally lowering the water level further. As long as the flood doesn’t return, the danger is contained… for now,” He Yu reported.

“Thank you for your efforts,” Shen Jie said. She deliberately glanced toward Liu Mao’s direction, then raised her voice, proclaiming, “Today’s heroic deeds shall all be reported to the imperial court! Rest assured, the court will grant due rewards!”

This declaration stirred an even stronger wave of determination from the crowd.

Some who had just been rescued, gazing at their flood-swept, waterlogged homes, gritted their teeth, steeled their resolve, and plunged back into the water to help others.

It wasn’t until dark clouds obscured the sun that the floodwaters finally receded.

At long last, the last dark puddles drained from the unusually empty street, flowing along its edges toward the great river, leaving behind only mud-covered ground. Liu Mao, true to form, remained silent. Only at dusk did he finally dispatch a messenger to confer with Shen Jie.

No sooner had this soldier arrived than Shen Jie sent him scuttling back with a fierce reprimand. So hasty was his retreat that he almost collided with Chen Shu.

“What did that man want?” Chen Shu asked curiously, approaching the makeshift writing table Shen Jie had found.

“He asked me how the city’s survivors were supposed to get grain in the coming days,” Shen Jie answered coldly.

“…Huh?” Alarm suddenly dawned on Chen Shu as the reality struck her. “Oh! The flood swept everything away! There’s no food at all!”

Shen Jie snorted derisively. Rather than answering, she growled another phrase under her breath, venting her anger, before adding, “He’s feigning ignorance! Provisions for several months are stockpiled outside the city! Sharing even half would feed every survivor here for more than a fortnight!…”

“…So he doesn’t want to give it?” Chen Shu asked, bewildered.

“He has no choice.” Shen Jie scoffed again. “Leave aside whether his conscience allows it. Just think—if this whole city knew such a massive stockpile existed right outside… how swiftly they’d storm the camp demanding it! Hoarding that grain buys Liu Mao no favor. No, he sent that soldier to remind me to ask him for it!”

Her reasoning was swift, but Chen Shu remained unconvinced. “Then why are you angry with him, Right Supervisor Shen?”

“This isn’t mere anger,” Shen Jie exhaled a long breath and stood up. “He’s maneuvering! His goal? To put my name front and center when report reaches the Emperor. Should the throne blame him for opening the granaries, I’m the one who’ll bear the brunt. That’s why—”

“That’s why he wanted you to yell at his soldier?” Chen Shu blinked and muttered, “How idiotic!”

“Enough of him, that stubborn oaf,” Shen Jie said, waving dismissively. She began walking away, then gestured for Chen Shu to follow. She waited until Chen Shu caught up at a trot before stating, “Accompany me to the magistrate’s office. We need paper and ink that aren’t utterly ruined. Relying on that scoundrel Liu Mao is useless. Better to write letters to nearby towns ourselves—demand they send grain.”

“Ah! Alright!”

Chen Shu trailed Shen Jie as they navigated the now-unrecognizable streets. Countless people recognized them along the way, expressing tearful gratitude. While Shen Jie appeared thoroughly accustomed to such thanks, Chen Shu felt awkward, pausing frequently to politely converse before looking up, realizing Shen Jie had moved on, and scampering to catch up.

“I saw you and Yun Shen meet again today,” Shen Jie remarked abruptly.

“Huh?”

“Reuniting while still alive is fortune enough,” Shen Jie stated. She didn’t look back nor slow her pace, her statement steady. “My previous interrogations about the Mounted Bandits case… weren’t suspicions. Standard procedure. Though you met by chance, you’ve now faced life and death together. Such true friendship is rare. If my earlier tactics sowed discord between you… I offer my sincere apology here and now.”

“Ah! Lord Shen means the talk in the alleyway?” Chen Shu replied. They had just reached the magistrate’s office. Its signboard lay half-sunk in the mud; faint outlines hinted it was indeed an official plaque, but the characters smeared beyond recognition. She glanced at it, then back at Shen Jie, confirming their location, before answering, “It didn’t affect us. Lord Shen needn’t worry.”

“Good. Wait outside before coming in. I need a moment to compose myself,” Shen Jie instructed. She took a long stride, entering the dilapidated remnants of the yamen.

This yamen that once saw bustling activity was now ruined and collapsed, its broken walls and debris scattered everywhere, rendering its former grandeur unrecognizable.

Chen Shu stood before this desolate courtyard, watching Shen Jie’s straight-backed figure gradually fade into the distance, before suddenly realizing—

At last, not even the phantom of the tiger remained within this vast, empty government compound.