TRBDM -Chapter 167 Saving Lives

“Keep an eye on him. Don’t let him die.”

Zhao Lingchen tossed out the order and strolled leisurely toward the back courtyard.

The escape passage was extremely well hidden, concealed beneath a stone table at the very back of an artificial rock grotto.

When the stone table was lifted, a narrow tunnel—just wide enough for one person—was revealed below.

A guard raised his torch and prepared to descend without hesitation.

“Wait,” Zhao Lingchen stopped them.

“Find some cloth, soak it in water, and cover your mouths and noses before going down.”

Zhao Jingrui was devious—secret chambers, explosives—and the courtyard was filled with all sorts of strange flowers. Zhao Lingchen feared there might be poisonous fumes in the escape tunnel.

Following her instructions, the guards covered their mouths and noses and headed down.

The passage was narrow, its walls rough and uneven. It was clear that when it had been dug, little manpower had been invested.

At the end of the tunnel stood a door.

Sure enough, it connected directly to the secret chamber.

Through the door, they could hear no movement from inside.

“Quick—break it down!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The door was extraordinarily sturdy; it took the guards considerable effort to smash it open.

The moment it gave way, a massive cloud of dust burst outward.

The guards tightly covered their mouths and noses and immediately shut their eyes.

Thankfully, the wet cloth shielded them; otherwise, the dust would have made them cough violently.

“Lord Jiang? Lord Jiang?”

A guard called into the chamber.

“Quick, go in and find them!”

They entered the secret room and discovered it was some distance away from the original entrance. The exploded bricks and rubble were piled about five meters off. Aside from being blanketed in dust, this area wasn’t covered with too many stones.

“Lord Jiang? Where are you?”

Just as the guard called out, Jiang Yuelin emerged from not far away. “I’m here.”

There was blood on his forehead, and one of his arms hung limply at his side, unable to move.

“Lord Jiang, how are you?”

“I’m fine. But two men are buried under the rocks. Hurry and save them.”

“Yes, sir!”

Right before the explosion, Jiang Yuelin had shouted for everyone in the chamber to take cover.

He had managed to move in time, though flying debris had broken his left arm. After the blast subsided, he searched through the ruins and found a guard buried beneath the rubble.

The guard had still been breathing and could answer him at first, but gradually stopped responding.

Jiang Yuelin, together with another guard who was injured but not buried, began moving stones to rescue them.

But both were wounded—either with broken arms or legs—making the rescue extremely difficult.

The boulders were heavy and required several people to lift. They simply couldn’t manage it.

Just as they were at a complete loss, loud banging sounds suddenly erupted from behind them.

Thinking it was a second explosion from leftover gunpowder, Jiang Yuelin immediately ordered, “Move aside! Something’s happening behind us!”

Only when the Princess’s guards entered did Jiang Yuelin realize there was actually an escape tunnel in the secret chamber.

“Lord Jiang, you’re injured. Let me escort you out first.”

Jiang Yuelin shook his head.

“No. I’ll wait until they’re out.”

They had come together; they would leave together.

“Very well. Let’s save them first.”

The guards stopped trying to persuade him and focused on the rescue.

Half an hour later, the two trapped in the secret chamber were finally pulled free. The group then made their way out through the secret passage.

Zhao Lingchen looked at the group of men in such miserable condition that they were almost unbearable to behold, and for once, a trace of pity stirred in her heart.

The power of gunpowder was not to be underestimated—no one could emerge unscathed.

“Your Highness, thank you for saving us,” Jiang Yuelin said. His robes were covered in dust, and even his face bore stubborn streaks of ash that could not be wiped away.

Zhao Lingchen’s expression did not change. As the one who held authority high above all, she only asked for the answers she wanted. “After going to such lengths and causing such a commotion, did you find anything useful?”

“We did,” Jiang Yuelin replied. Though disheveled, he still stood tall and composed.

That was the answer Zhao Lingchen wanted.

Her gaze swept over him. “Lord Jiang is injured. Return to the Dali Temple for now. I will send an imperial physician there.”

After speaking, she let out a small yawn and turned to leave.

After taking two steps, she paused. “I’m taking Zhao Jingrui with me. If you wish to interrogate him, come to the Princess’s Manor.”

She intended to hear the interrogation personally.

“Yes.”

After Zhao Lingchen departed, Jiang Yuelin did not leave at once.

He waited until the officials from the Dali Temple arrived and arranged everything before finally boarding a carriage back.

The torrential rain had stopped, and the air carried the fresh scent of damp earth.

Supporting himself with his right hand, Jiang Yuelin felt waves of rhythmic pain spreading through his left arm with every jolt of the carriage.

When the gunpowder exploded, he had thought he would die inside.

Fortunately, the explosives had been placed near the entrance. Zhao Jingrui had likely set them there only to block the exit, and the quantity had not been large.

Otherwise, no matter how fortunate he might have been, death would have been inevitable.

The moon slowly rose as the carriage arrived at the Dali Temple under its pale glow.

Jiang Yuelin forced himself to step down. As soon as the guards helped him onto the bed, he immediately lost consciousness.

The next day, he groggily opened his eyes and found that his arm had already been bandaged. Hearing a faint rustling sound beside him, he turned his head and saw a familiar figure, head lowered, arranging strips of white gauze.

“Wanrou?” Jiang Yuelin called hesitantly.

Xie Wanrou turned around, her pupils trembling. “You’re awake!”

She hurried to his bedside, concern laced with anxiety. “Do you want some water?”

Jiang Yuelin had burned with fever throughout the night while unconscious. Now his lips were cracked and his face pale. At her question, he pressed his dry lips together.

“Thank you. I would.”

He pushed himself upright. Xie Wanrou instinctively reached out to support him, but her hand stopped midway and withdrew.

She turned to pour a cup of warm water and handed it to him.

His left arm was wrapped in white cloth and suspended against his chest, leaving only his right hand free.

He took the cup and drained it in one go.

“How did you come here?” he asked, lifting his gaze.

“The Princess sent me.”

That morning, someone had called upon Wei Zhaorong.

It was a maid from the Princess’s Manor. She said that Lord Jiang had been gravely injured while investigating a case and was now being treated at the Dali Temple. She hoped Miss Xie could come and look after him.

Hearing this, Jiang Yuelin understood.

Every move he made was within the Princess’s grasp. She had long known of his feelings for Xie Wanrou.

By personally arranging for her to care for him, she was giving them a chance to be alone.

The Princess’s pride would never allow her to voice words of gratitude—she expressed everything through action.

Jiang Yuelin knew her well. This was indeed something she would do.

When Xie Wanrou heard that he was severely injured, panic seized her. Without hesitation, she followed the messenger to the Dali Temple.

Seeing him lying unconscious on the bed left her at a complete loss, her heart aching unbearably.

It took a long while before her wildly pounding heart finally settled.

She forced herself to calm down, acting methodically despite the chaos—preparing water, readying clean gauze, even wanting to decoct medicine herself.

Later she discovered that the medicine stove was attended by someone already and required no effort from her, so she returned to keep watch at his side.

“Wanrou,” Jiang Yuelin suddenly said, “my hand hurts.”