Chapter Forty-Eight: Miss Zhang Yurou

After entering the residence, they had barely walked any distance when Zhang Wu again found an excuse, saying he should first tend to his wounds. Before he could finish, however, Zhang Mingzhi’s piercing glance forced the rest of the words back down his throat. Yet, he threw Ding Li a complicated look, which left the still-clueless Ding Li utterly bewildered.

Regarding the matter of taking in Wang Die and her son, Zhang Mingzhi voiced no objection at all—in fact, he seemed rather pleased. He instructed his staff to treat Wang Die with particular courtesy and even assigned a maid specifically to accompany her. After all, the mansion was vast, and for a stranger like Wang Die, there would inevitably be inconveniences. Now somewhat recovered in spirit, Wang Die was deeply grateful. Having ascertained the identities of Ding Li and the others, she immediately pulled her child to kneel and kowtow before Zhang Mingzhi, voicing her thanks repeatedly.

Zhang Mingzhi did not arrange lodgings for Ding Li at once but instead led him and Zhang Wu straight to find Zhang Yurou. The mansion was sprawling, and Zhang Yurou’s quarters were set at the far side of the garden, in the Evening Cloud Pavilion. To say they were assigned to her would be inaccurate; in truth, the courtyard had originally been prepared for Zhang Yurou, even bearing the same name as her residence in the Canton Prefecture.

The Evening Cloud Pavilion was quite exceptional within the mansion, occupying more than ten acres, with its own miniature garden, pond, and artificial hill. Atop the hill, rising from level ground, stood the Cloud Gazing Pavilion.

At this moment, Zhang Yurou sat in the Cloud Gazing Pavilion, clad in a pale pink gown. Her slender, jade-like arms rested on the stone table before her, one hand supporting her rosy cheek as she gazed into the west, her eyes reflecting a hint of wistfulness as she watched the fiery sunset. A breeze drifted by, setting her waist-length hair floating gracefully behind her.

“Sis! What are you thinking about?” As soon as he stepped into the Evening Cloud Pavilion, Zhang Mingzhi spotted Zhang Yurou, strikingly elegant amid her surroundings, and called out with a smiling squint.

“Ah!” Her reverie broken by the call, Zhang Yurou sighed softly and slowly rose. But the moment she turned—more precisely, the instant her gaze fell upon Zhang Wu—a frosty layer settled across her lovely features. She did not even bother responding to her brother; instead, she strode swiftly down the stone steps of the artificial hill, entirely disregarding the demure image expected of a lady in a long gown.

“Zhang Wu! Get over here!” Face cold, Zhang Yurou lifted a corner of her skirt and, taking quick little steps, descended the hill while pointing at Zhang Wu, who was dodging behind Zhang Mingzhi, afraid to meet her eyes. Her shout startled Ding Li so much he shivered, which pulled at his injury and made him wince in pain.

Ding Li had never expected that the seemingly delicate and reserved Zhang Yurou could prove so fierce. Only when she charged toward him did he snap to his senses—especially as he noticed the glittering dagger in her raised, slender hand. Though she was not aiming at him, he could keenly feel the cold, deadly intent emanating from its blade.

“Please, Sister Rou, spare me! Second Master, help!” Zhang Wu, trembling all over, supported his injured leg and darted backward. The flash of the dagger’s blade swept dangerously close to his arm, and he barely escaped, breaking out in a cold sweat. He had not anticipated that Zhang Yurou, whom Mingzhi claimed had changed, would be even more formidable than before. He dared not pause for an instant, for Zhang Yurou, failing with her first strike, merely gathered up her skirt and pressed the attack, dagger in hand.

The scene left Ding Li utterly perplexed. Knowing nothing of the backstory, he thought for a moment the two were simply horsing around, but that made no sense—for he could feel a true killing intent radiating from Zhang Yurou, a fierce energy wholly at odds with the fragile woman he’d first glimpsed.

What confounded Ding Li further was that, after the melee began, Zhang Mingzhi actually withdrew to the side, as if worried about being caught in the fray. He even backed up to the stone steps leading to the pavilion and looked on with a lazy, unconcerned air, arms folded across his chest, as though enjoying the spectacle.

Seeing this, Ding Li decided he too was obstructing things by standing where he was. With barely a thought, he followed Zhang Mingzhi’s example and gave them a wide berth so as not to hinder their contest.

“Brother Li, save me!” But just as Ding Li lifted his foot, Zhang Wu suddenly lunged at him, spinning Ding Li around by the arm. Before Ding Li could react, Zhang Wu cowered behind him, shouting again, “Sister Rou, wait, wait!”

Zhang Yurou paid no heed to his pleas. Having already committed to action, she could not halt her momentum. The dagger in her hand was about to strike Ding Li, now spun unexpectedly in front of her. This left Zhang Yurou herself startled, her face blanching in horror. At that very moment, her hand slipped from the skirt she was holding up, causing her to stumble and pitch forward, the dagger’s keen edge aimed straight at Ding Li’s back.

“Aah!”

No sooner had he registered what was happening than Ding Li heard a startled cry behind him. At the same time, he felt a chilling cold at his back. Instinctively, he shoved Zhang Wu away and spun around, his own face paling in shock.

He was confronted by a rose, beautiful but thorned—though a stunning woman was falling into his arms, his attention was wholly on the dagger, now only inches from him. He could feel its cold menace as if it would pierce him in the next instant.

In that split second, Ding Li made his decision, surprising even Zhang Mingzhi, who had just realized something was wrong. Although Ding Li could have dodged, he did not move—instead, he raised his arm, meeting the dagger with his own flesh and blood.

There was no sound. Though Zhang Yurou desperately tried to pull the dagger back and Ding Li responded as best he could, the sharp blade still sliced into his arm. Blood spurted, and the unsteady Zhang Yurou tumbled into Ding Li’s embrace, a vivid streak of blood staining her bodice.

“Ah Li!”

“Brother Li!”

“Hiss…”

Almost simultaneously, Zhang Mingzhi and Zhang Wu rushed forward. Ding Li frowned in pain, drawing sharp breaths through his teeth as the wound on his arm throbbed.

“Ah!”

With a cry, Zhang Yurou, who had just picked herself up and pushed away from Ding Li, dropped the dagger to the ground with a clatter. She stared at the unfamiliar Ding Li, panic-stricken. Even the usually unflappable Zhang Yurou was at a loss, raising a trembling hand to her mouth, eyes wide with terror and remorse. After a stunned moment, she finally managed a tentative, anxious question: “Are you… are you all right?”

“What do you think? Why don’t you try cutting yourself and see?” Having waited so long only to hear such a question, Ding Li could not help but frown. In that brief instant, he had actually had time to evade, but he was worried Zhang Yurou would fall and accidentally injure herself with the dagger, so he made his choice. Yet now, faced with her question, his tone turned cold, clearly keeping her at a distance.

This, in turn, irked Zhang Yurou. Though she was at fault, having wounded Ding Li accidentally, as the eldest daughter of the Zhang family she had no way of knowing Ding Li’s true motives—she assumed he was simply too slow or foolish to dodge, and had been hurt out of sheer dullness, much as she might have been.

With that in mind, her temper flared, though it was soon interrupted by the concerned inquiries of Zhang Mingzhi and Zhang Wu, who had hurried over.

“Ah Li! Is it serious?”

“Brother Li, how is it?”

As he spoke, Zhang Mingzhi turned and shouted furiously at several maids on the artificial hill, “What are you standing around for? Go find a doctor!”

Zhang Yurou, meanwhile, was stunned. She had rarely seen her brother lose his temper, and now he was doing so over Ding Li. Puzzled, she studied Ding Li more closely, her expression growing increasingly complex. Her gaze flickered between him and Zhang Mingzhi, full of doubt.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Zhang Mingzhi felt uneasy under his sister’s uncharacteristic scrutiny, frowning in confusion.

“Shouyi, you—you don’t mean that you and he…” At this, Zhang Yurou pulled her brother closer and kept casting odd glances at Ding Li, pointing in his direction with embarrassment. She trailed off, her face reddening, but the implication was clear enough for Zhang Mingzhi.

“Sis! What’s going through your head?!” Zhang Mingzhi’s expression changed instantly. Never in his life had he spoken so sharply to his sister. His outburst startled Zhang Yurou, who immediately realized she had let her imagination run wild. She waved her hands in protest, grinning awkwardly as she tried to explain, “No, no! Shouyi, you’ve misunderstood, that’s not what I meant! I just wanted to remind you…”

“All right, that’s enough! No need to remind me! You spend a few years at sea and come back having learned nothing good!” Zhang Mingzhi was still annoyed, unable to fathom how his sister could possibly link him and Ding Li together. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. Her sputtering explanations only made him more impatient. He waved her off, then turned to Ding Li and continued his introductions: “Sis, this is the very Ding Li from the South Sea Gang I’ve been telling you about! The one who single-handedly challenged the Xunzhou Gang and even dared to stand up to Master Liu of the Chaozhou Gang! And yesterday, it was he who fought off Cao Hai and Cao You when they ambushed us at the restaurant, and today, when they ambushed Wu on the road, it was again thanks to him that we prevailed—and he wounded both Cao You and Cao Hai!”

“He—he’s Ding Li?” Upon hearing this, Zhang Yurou’s mouth fell open, and she pointed at Ding Li in disbelief, all sense of decorum forgotten.

“Ah Li, this is my sister, Zhang Yurou,” Zhang Mingzhi continued, ignoring her reaction. “A few years back, she went to sea with our family’s ships because of some trouble at home. She only just returned a few days ago. This is your first meeting, and you’ve already been injured because of her—my sincerest apologies! Still, it’s thanks to you that things didn’t end worse just now!”

Before either could reply, Zhang Mingzhi turned and gave Zhang Yurou a stern look, rolling his eyes at her before continuing, “Sis! If Ah Li hadn’t stood his ground, you would have fallen, and who knows, you might have stabbed yourself with that dagger! Let me tell you, don’t think for a second that Ah Li couldn’t dodge—if he’d wanted to, you wouldn’t even have touched his clothes, let alone hurt him!”