Spoiled and mad critic of powerful ministers

Those belong to the Pei family; they are blueprints that my elder brother, Pei Zhichao, protected with his life.

The warships arrived in an instant.

On the bow of the ship in the center, a tall, slender figure was vaguely visible.

The man was dressed in a dark, close-fitting outfit, with a silver mask on his face. The river wind whipped at his clothes.

"Release it in the northeast direction."

The man uttered only a cold command, his voice low and hoarse, yet exuding an unquestionable authority.

The soldiers on the warships were well-trained, and their giant crossbows fired in rapid succession. Those pirates who had been so arrogant just moments before were crushed like ants in the face of this overwhelming military power.

In no time at all, the river bandits were either dead or had fled, leaving only a scene of devastation on the river.

The crisis is over.

The black warship slowly approached.

Shen Qiongju helped the injured Pei Zhihui out of the cabin. The two of them looked up at the figure at the bow of the ship at the same time.

Across the river, several meters away, the flickering flames outlined the man's tall and imposing figure, and for a moment, there was an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

Shen Qiongju suddenly held her breath, her heart pounding for no apparent reason.

Pei Zhihui stared intently at the figure, seemingly oblivious to the intense pain coursing through his body.

The man seemed to notice their gazes and turned his head slightly.

The gaze behind the mask was unfathomable, yet the instant it touched the two of them, a barely perceptible ripple flickered across it—so fleeting that it seemed like an illusion.

He remained silent, neither speaking nor disembarking.

"Change course."

The hoarse voice rang out again.

Without hesitation, the black warship changed course, breaking through the night and river mist, and quickly disappeared into the darkness, leaving only the gradually fading water trails behind.

Pei Zhihui lunged forward two steps, but staggered due to his injuries and could only grip the gunwale tightly with his hands.

He stared at the now empty river, his chest heaving violently. A vague thought churned within him, yet he couldn't quite grasp it, ultimately transforming into a suppressed, low, hoarse cry that dissipated in the wind:

"……etc……"

The river flows eastward, but no one answers.

The black warship disappeared into the distance, as if it had never existed.

"Click—"

A sharp, teeth-grinding crack shattered the silence. The already riddled ship, having lost its last supporting keel, tilted violently to the left, and river water rushed in through the cracked planks.

"The ship is sinking! Quick! Get the wine out!"

Zhao Qiyan was the first to react. Ignoring his injuries, he rushed to the bottom hatch and directed the surviving crew members to salvage the wine jars. Fortunately, the bottom hatch was located at the rear of the ship and was less damaged; most of the dozens of precious jars were intact, except for a few that were broken.

At this moment, several patrol boats carrying official lanterns finally arrived late.

Upon seeing the horrific scene, the leading inspector turned pale with fright and hurriedly beckoned his men to come and help. However, the government patrol boats, designed for speed, were extremely narrow and had a shallow draft, making it impossible to carry so many people and goods.

"Young Master Zhao! This...this boat is too small!" The inspector looked at the heavy jars of wine, then at the injured men on board, and stamped his feet in frustration. "If they all come aboard, we'll all capsize into the river and be fed to the turtles!"

Zhao Qiyan wiped the blood from her face, glanced at the massive ship that was about to sink, and roared through gritted teeth, "Bring the wine first! People... those who can swim, swim over! Those who can't, hold onto the planks!"

That was wine offered as tribute to the emperor, more precious than the lives of everyone on this ship.

In the dead of winter, the river water was icy cold.

Although the guys were afraid of the cold, they had all grown up by the river. They gritted their teeth and jumped into the water like dumplings, swimming towards the shore.

Shen Qiongju stood on the tilted deck, looking at the dark, churning river, as if she were nailed to the spot.

cold.

That bone-chilling cold instantly awakened her deepest fears from her past life.

The suffocating feeling of being submerged up to her chest in the water dungeon, the heavy sound of chains being dragged underwater... countless fragments of memories surged like a tide, making her body stiff and even breathing difficult.

"Sister-in-law..."

A burning hot hand grabbed her wrist.

Pei Zhihui leaned against the broken mast, his once pale face now flushed red, his breathing hot and rapid. The battle had exhausted all his energy, and now his old injuries had flared up again. Coupled with the biting cold wind, even standing was a luxury for him.

"Don't be afraid." Pei Zhihui's voice was weak, but it carried a comforting power. "Don't be afraid, just swim across."

"No..." Shen Qiongju came to her senses, her eyes reddening as she looked at his unsteady figure. "You're injured, you'll die if you go into the water."

"I won't die." Pei Zhihui forced a smile, wanting to say something more, but his body went limp and he slid straight down.

"Zhihui!" Shen Qiongju exclaimed, hugging his waist tightly.

"Oh my goodness! Stop putting on a melodramatic show now!"

Zhao Qiyan somehow tore off a huge door panel and threw it into the water with a loud crash. He grabbed Pei Zhihui and roughly shoved him onto the door panel.

"Pei Erlang, you're just a burden now, don't try to be strong! Lie down here, I'll have someone push you around!"

Pei Zhihui did not resist. He knew Zhao Qiyan was right; if he forced himself to continue, he would only be a burden to Shen Qiongju.

He lay on the slippery door panel, his fingers gripping the edge tightly, his phoenix eyes, burning with fever, fixed on Shen Qiongju's direction.

"Qiongju, I'm sorry to offend you!"

Without wasting words, Zhao Qiyan saw that Shen Qiongju was still trembling, so she reached out and grabbed her waist, then leaped into the air.

"Splash—"

The icy river water instantly submerged him.

Shen Qiongju instinctively wanted to scream and struggle; the suffocating feeling of being overwhelmed made her almost faint.

"Don't move! Hold me tight!" Zhao Qiyan's voice exploded in my ear.

He used one hand to paddle and the other to support Shen Qiongju's head, keeping her above the water.

Like a cat that had fallen into the water, Shen Qiongju instinctively clung tightly to Zhao Qiyan's neck, trembling uncontrollably.

On the door panel not far away, Pei Zhihui watched this scene, a sinister glint flashing in his eyes.

He wanted to reach out and pull her, but his body felt as heavy as lead, and he could only watch helplessly as another man held her and protected her as they floated in the river.

.

Tongzhou Inn, late at night.

The charcoal brazier inside burned fiercely, occasionally sputtering a couple of sparks. The strong smell of medicine overpowered the original musty odor, and amidst the rising heat, there was a suffocating stillness.

Shen Qiongju didn't even have time to dry her hair. She quickly changed into a dry undergarment and then stood guard by the bedside.

Pei Zhihui was still fast asleep on the bed.

The high fever made him feel like he was in a furnace; his lips were dry, cracked, and peeling, and he occasionally let out painful murmurs. New wounds piled on top of old ones, coupled with the high fever caused by soaking in the river water, meant that the doctor's hands were trembling when he was administering acupuncture. He said that if the fever didn't break down tonight, it might damage his health.