Chapter 5 — All I Crave in This Life Is Peace

Phu Lam, are you dead? At this moment, he and I are huddled in a narrow, rock-hewn cave, hidden away from prying eyes. Outside, a pack of assassins is hunting him down; their flickering torches cast grotesque, dancing shadows against the stone walls, resembling demons rising from the depths of hell. The sound of their heavy boots, rhythmic and echoing, matches the frantic, uneven thumping of my heart until it eventually fades into the distance.

"Search over there!"

Seeing that they have failed to discover our hiding spot, I finally exhale in relief. Beside me, Phu Lam lies heavily injured, his body drenched in blood, lost in a deep, unconscious stupor. I let out a cold huff and give him a sharp, annoyed kick. Dealing with this man always spells disaster.

Two hours ago, life was simpler. It had been three days since I was first ambushed by assassins, and the Princess, filled with immense pity, insisted on taking me to the Buddha Seal Temple to ward off my misfortune. I never expected Phu Lam to be there as well. Although the Princess's carriage was spacious, his towering frame made the compartment feel stifling. More daunting was the icy, oppressive aura he radiated, which hung so heavily in the air that one hardly dared to draw a full breath.

"Cough..." The Princess broke the suffocating silence. "Lam, you are joining us this time?"

Phu Lam cracked his eyes open, his face set in a stern expression. "I have been shadowed by malevolent energy lately; I must pay my respects to the Buddha to dispel the curse."

The Princess froze, the corner of her mouth twitching in confusion. Her son, known as the Yama of the underworld, had never believed in ghosts or gods. She could only wonder what schemes he was brewing. Before she could respond, a thunderous shout erupted from outside: "Assassins!" I held my breath—again? An arrow sliced through the air, piercing the carriage and missing my head by a mere hair’s breadth.

"Be careful!" Phu Lam lunged at me, pinning me down to shield my body. "They are targeting me! Guards, quickly escort the Princess and Mistress Chi Trien to safety!"

The situation descended into chaos. The stench of blood mingled with the metallic ring of clashing steel. In the confusion, I was separated from the Princess. Seeing me alone, Phu Lam moved to protect me beneath his own defense. As we fled, the death toll mounted until only the two of us remained. The assassins were all highly skilled experts; to keep me alive, Phu Lam sustained grave injuries and collapsed into unconsciousness.

I let out a long sigh. As the heir to the Duke’s estate, Phu Lam possessed an incomparable grace. His father was a founding hero, his mother the Grand Princess and sister to the Emperor, and he himself was a man of extraordinary talent held in high regard by the throne. Such glory, however, invites the strongest winds; his path was paved with the blood of those he had cut down. Why had I been so blind in my past life? How foolish I was, clinging to the naive dream of living a quiet, peaceful life with him.

Phu Lam, I will save you this time. Consider it payment for the schemes I orchestrated against you in the past. From this day forward, we are even. I took out my medicinal powder and applied a generous amount of the precious ointment to his mangled, bloodied wounds.

"Tsk. A walking catastrophe," I muttered, feeling a pang of regret. This medicine was something I had carefully prepared as a gift for Ta Hanh.

"Ugh..." Phu Lam groaned, the pain forcing him back into consciousness.

"Don't move," I commanded, pressing down on his shoulder with focused determination. "The gash on your shoulder needs to be stitched to stem the bleeding. If you thrash about, the wound will tear open again."

Lacking proper supplies, I plucked a few strands of his own hair to use as thread and threaded the needle. "This will sting, so try not to cry out, or you will lead the assassins right to us."

He looked at me with a flicker of astonishment in his eyes. "You know medicine?"

I was too weary to provide a detailed explanation. "Before I was ten, I spent some time learning from a shaman beyond the borders." As the daughter of a general, I had often trailed behind the rear guard, tending to the wounds of the fallen soldiers.

I gripped the needle, using the moonlight filtering through the rock crevice to guide every stitch through his flesh. I did not realize that Phu Lam’s gaze remained locked on me, his eyes growing darker by the second. Within the gloomy cave, I instinctively leaned closer to him. My breath brushed against his shoulder like a soft feather, causing his Adam’s apple to bob rhythmically. Clearly a man accustomed to agony, his heartbeat was now more erratic than when he had been wounded. He had always viewed Kieu Chi Trien as a fragile canary in a gilded cage; seeing her now, so focused and steady, his heart began to waver, stirred by unfamiliar emotions. After all, it was she who had fallen for him first. To indulge her wishes now... perhaps that was not such a bad thing.

By midday the following day, the guards finally arrived in a slow, calculated procession, kneeling in unison. As it turned out, the trip to the temple had been his "lure the snake from its hole" strategy. His injury had been part of the plan to feign weakness and draw out the traitors within his ranks. He simply had not expected the enemy to be so ruthless, forcing us to separate from the Princess. He had been compelled to protect me, which hindered his movements and led to his near-fatal injuries. The assassination attempt was like a stone cast into a lake, creating ripples that eventually faded into stillness. From that day on, I did not see Phu Lam for half a month.

After the ambush, the Princess forbade me from leaving the estate. Ta Hanh, however, frequently sent me curious trinkets to soothe my boredom. He sent snacks, storybooks, and intricate mechanical puzzles—all accompanied by his handwritten letters. He wrote of mundane daily trifles in a reserved, courteous tone, yet every word betrayed his deep affection and gentle concern. Ta Hanh and I had already exchanged betrothal tokens and finalized the marriage arrangements. After dancing on the edge of death, I no longer harbored grand illusions about romance. I only wished for a respectful, peaceful life as husband and wife. Yet, I found myself increasingly moved by his warmth and attentiveness, and for the first time, a flicker of genuine hope for our future began to take root in my heart.