Ch. 9 - Ye Qingyu

The man was none other than Ye Qingyu—Ye Xiwu’s dreaded second brother, current head of the Ye clan. He was the iron-faced general: strict, by-the-book, and utterly merciless. In the original plot, the heroine had even been punished by him—smacked across the palms for breaking rules.

Because it was nearing the year’s end, Ye Qingyu had returned to the capital to report on his campaigns and spend the festival with family. Just outside Shengdu, his army made camp. Out of courtesy, he’d chosen not to disturb the townsfolk so late at night, planning to enter the city tomorrow. He had already sent word home to their grandmother and father; both elders had replied with joy.

Yang Ruo nearly collapsed.

Of all the rotten luck—she’d run straight into Ye Qingyu’s encampment. What was this, divine punishment? Stepping on dog crap disguised as fate?

Looking at the half-dug pit at her feet and Ye Xiwu’s filthy, disheveled state, any fool could guess what was going on. And Ye Qingyu was no fool. The young general could read a battlefield like an open scroll.

His second sister was trying to run away from home.

And Tan Jin… seemed to be here to drag her back.

But judging from her expression, she wasn’t too thrilled about it.

In an instant, Ye Qingyu made his judgment: this was his sister’s reckless scheme alone. Tan Jin was uninvolved—in fact, he’d done the family a service by catching her.

…

Inside the camp, torches blazed. Ye Qingyu dismissed his soldiers, sparing his sister the humiliation of being interrogated before the ranks.

His tone was cold, clipped, like the crack of a whip:

Yang Ruo hadn’t even cobbled together a story before he barked again, voice like rolling thunder:

The general’s battlefield voice was no joke—it nearly knocked the breath out of her. She flinched hard… then her temper flared.

Damn it! When’s the last time anyone dared shout at me like this?

Beside Ye Qingyu stood Tan Jin, silent but aligned. For once, husband and brother-in-law stood shoulder to shoulder, united against her.

Yang Ruo dug her nails into her palm, glaring up at the pair of them. “Second Brother, are you really going to treat your sister this ruthlessly?”

Ye Qingyu’s interrogation was bad enough—why was Tan Jin standing there enjoying her disgrace?

This was a cosmic joke: what kind of man teams up with his wife’s younger brother to interrogate her like a criminal?!

And worse—Tan Jin had been the one trying to kill her! She ran for her life, and somehow she was the guilty party?

However much she wanted to scream, she dared not expose Tan Jin’s true identity. If the Ye family learned who he really was, she’d probably die faster.

So all she could do was curse Ye Qingyu to hell and back inside her head:

Ye Qingyu, you blind idiot! Ye Qingyu, you can’t tell friend from foe! You’d join hands with an outsider to persecute your own sister!

“Have you thought of an answer?” Tan Jin’s cold voice cut through the silence, sharp as ice.

Yang Ruo’s nerves snapped. Fine—if they wanted an answer, they’d get one. “I—I’m tired of life in the Ye household. I wanted… a different kind of life.”

It wasn’t the truth. But it wasn’t a complete lie, either. Ever since she’d landed here, she’d tried—really tried. She’d helped Tan Jin where she could and trained herself to survive. And what did she get? He still wanted her dead. She was exhausted. Who wouldn’t want to bolt?

Ye Qingyu froze at her answer, brows knitting. His sister, greedy for power and wealth, is suddenly yearning to abandon the family? Impossible. A few crates of hidden gold couldn’t buy the kind of luxury she demanded—let alone the pitiful box the soldiers had dug up.

And yet… he knew her impulsive streak. Maybe this really was just another reckless whim.

The general pinched his brow, wearied already. First day back and already chaos. Outrageous! She would have to be punished severely, or tongues would wag in the clan.

After a moment of heavy silence, his verdict rang out, merciless and final:

“Given that the New Year approaches, you shall kneel in the ancestral hall for half a month after the festival. Each day, three lashes of the ruler. Reflect well. Do not shame the Ye family again.”

Yang Ruo deflated instantly.

Half a month?! In the drama, Ye Qingyu only punished Li Susu with half an incense stick’s kneeling and a few light strikes. Why do I get forty-five whacks across the hands?!

She darted a pleading look at Tan Jin. He turned his head away, utterly unmoved.

Yang Ruo: “…”

Tan Jin, you bastard.

She was hauled back to the estate under guard, tail between her legs.

Tan Jin lingered to exchange a few words with Ye Qingyu about household matters, then departed.

…

In the days that followed, Yang Ruo kept her head down, focusing on talisman practice.

After cooling off, she admitted her escape attempt had been rash—cowardly, even. Tan Jin wanted her dead; whether she ran or not, she couldn’t escape his notice. Proof enough—she hadn’t even made it past the hills.

So why bother? Better to face the plot head-on.

And if her memory of the drama was right, the next arc was about to begin. She and Tan Jin would go hunting for Pianran, which would open the road to the Jing Kingdom.

But before they arrived, disaster would strike: betrayal by the Yi Yue clansman Lan An, Tan Minglang’s schemes… Tan Jin would lose an eye, be poisoned, and fall into the raging Mo River—only to be rescued by Li Susu.

Li Susu, meanwhile, was destined to be the one who fell into the trap while pursuing Pianran—captured by Tan Jin, dragged onto the ship bound for Jing, and when she overheard his plan to kill her, forced to leap into the sea to escape.

When Yang Ruo ran the scenario in her mind, her chest tightened. Sure, she’d learned some talisman tricks, but facing what lay ahead? She had zero confidence.

Being the protagonist is way too high-maintenance. Sigh.

After a long while, her eyes lit up—What if she just… skipped this plotline altogether? Keep Tan Jin off the ship. Keep him away from Jing Lan’an. If they had never met, the whole disaster might have been avoided.

But her brief joy soured quickly. Right now, because of the fiasco at Xiao Lin’s wedding, King Sheng had already ordered Tan Jin’s assassination. Without the shadow guards of Jing Lan’an’s Yi Yue tribe to protect him, Tan Jin would be exposed.

What to do?

Yang Ruo chewed on the dilemma. Altering the script too much was risky; who knew what unforeseen consequences might ripple out? Better to stick to the known storyline and prep her “cheat codes” in advance. But if she completely rewrote things, she’d be flying blind.

She groaned, clutching her head. Why is this damn story so hard?!

She didn’t want Tan Jin to lose an eye. She didn’t want him to use the Heaven-shattering Jade. She especially didn’t want to end up gouging out her own eyeball to give it to him.

Only now did she truly realize how terrifyingly selfless the original heroine, Li Susu, had been—to sacrifice her own eye for the sake of the world. That kind of courage was beyond her.

As for Yang Ruo—she was a salted fish. A cowardly, survival-first salted fish. The idea of self-sacrifice? Not happening.

After much agonizing, she arrived at her brilliant master plan:

Just follow the original storyline.

Like, say… making sure he didn’t lose an eye.

…

Soon, New Year’s Eve arrived.

The family gathered, festive and cheerful. Some played cards, others chatted. When it was time for red envelopes, Grandmother—just like in the drama—gave Yang Ruo a fat packet containing her entire year’s allowance.

Though she wasn’t truly Ye Xiwu, Yang Ruo felt warmed by the old lady’s affection. And if the plot continued as scripted, Grandmother would at least enjoy a peaceful old age.

Her heart settled a little.

She turned her head—only to find Tan Jin had slipped away.

Tonight was the night he would meet Jing Lan’an again, after twenty years. And the start of his next round of torment.

Anxiety gnawed at her. She wanted to tell him the truth: Jing Lan’an couldn’t be trusted. She had a daughter, and Tan Minglang had that daughter hostage—she would betray him.

But how could she say such a thing? He already suspected her after the nightmare-demon incident. If she spoke up again, who knew what he’d do to her?

Thankfully, Tan Jin wasn’t one to trust easily. When he pinned the hairpin on Jing Lan’an, he’d already hidden a poison worm inside—that trick would later save him from Tan Minglang’s trap.

So all Yang Ruo needed to do was stop him from losing that eye.

Everything else? Maybe she could let it play out.

Tomorrow, Tan Jin would leave with Jing Lan’an. Yang Ruo packed her few valuables—talisman papers, silver, and some clothes—planning to sneak onto the Yi Yue ship and wait for her chance.

…

The next morning, news arrived: Ye Qingyu hadn’t returned home all night. Yang Ruo wasn’t even curious. Obviously, the iron-faced general had finally thawed and gone to visit his sweetheart. Pianran liked him—she’d never hurt him.

Her real priority was Tan Jin. She needed to shadow him onto that ship.

…The problem was, she had no idea where the eastern docks were. Geography was not her strong suit. So, like it or not, she had to stick to Tan Jin—the walking GPS.

When Tan Jin heard about Ye Qingyu, he waited for Ye Xiwu to volunteer to hunt the fox demon. That way, he could tag along and claim the fox’s demon core or recruit her, strengthening his hand against Tan Minglang.

But to his surprise, this woman didn’t care in the slightest.

She sat there serenely, smiling at him—soft, sweet, as if admiring a beautiful landscape.

And indeed, Yang Ruo was simply appreciating the view. The hostage prince of Jing wasn’t a carbon copy of his drama-actor counterpart, but he was still devastatingly handsome.

Truly a feast for the eyes, she thought.

Tan Jin’s voice cut sharp as a blade:

Yang Ruo: “…”

Ah, right—she’d been so focused on tailing him onto that damn ship, she’d forgotten she actually needed to cue the storyline!

In the original plot, it was Li Susu who had suggested going after the fox demon. Tan Jin insisted on joining, which led to him dragging her onto the ship later.

The realization struck Yang Ruo like a lightning bolt.

Of course, Tan Jin wasn’t going to just waltz out of the Ye estate under her nose. The more she shadowed him, the less chance he had to slip away. No—she had to create the opportunity for him to leave.

Which meant… yep, back to the original script.

So, playing along, she obediently echoed his line:

Tan Jin’s gaze lingered on her. Why did it feel like she’d been waiting for that cue?

But time was short. He didn’t press. Still, if they were going to hunt a fox demon, it had to be foolproof. That meant pulling in Pang Yizhi. Yet the “Ye Xiwu” before him made no move to bring it up. With a sigh, he supplied the line himself:

Yang Ruo winced. Damn her memory! She’d blanked on the script again and left the male lead to feed her lines.

So she nodded furiously like a bobbing chicken:

Tan Jin: “…”

What on earth was this woman up to?

He felt exhausted, as though he were carrying the entire play by himself.

Still, after much back and forth, the two of them finally managed to drag the grumbling Pang Yizhi along—despite his insistence that demon-hunting was hardly auspicious work for the first day of the New Year.

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