Tome of Troubled Times

Chapter 618: Willing to Be Yours

Chapter 618: Willing to Be Yours

Zhao Changhe’s heart burned with genuine anger. He had exhausted every possible means to save her, running from place to place, every thought consumed by the questions of “will this cure Wanzhuang” or “can the Rejuvenation Art save Wanzhuang now?” His thoughts had been in a constant knot of worry and hope.

Upon setting foot on land, his first instinct was fear for her life. He rode tirelessly, galloping thousands of li, the wind and dust stinging his face as his heart twisted in anguish. In mere hours, he had traversed the distance from Yangzhou to the capital.

And yet, she treated her own life with such disregard. It was not just her life she was throwing away; it was also his painstaking devotion, dashed into the mud.

He did not want to scold her harshly. The strongest words he could muster were, “There’s no need to wait for the next life. The rest of this one will do.”

But Tang Wanzhuang looked into his eyes, her expression solemn and sincere. “If there is a next life… I, Wanzhuang, would gladly be your concubine.”

This time, it was Zhao Changhe’s turn to be dumbfounded. A concubine, not a wife—did she realize the weight of her words? Was this humility or something else?

“Wait, do you not believe you’ll survive? Do you think I’m bluffing, that you’re as good as dead, so you might as well give up?”

Tang Wanzhuang smiled faintly, giving him no answer.

She did not know if Zhao Changhe’s words were bravado or truth, but in her heart, she felt a mixture of love and guilt. If Xia Longyuan had not failed her, it was only in the sense of duty between sovereign and subject. But Zhao Changhe cared for her as a person. Even now, he descended like a divine being, shattering her despair.

In that instant, Tang Wanzhuang felt her life’s true belonging was here, in his arms.

Her life had reached its end. She had given everything for the Great Xia, owing nothing to anyone—except him. If rebirth were possible, it would be his love that gave her a second chance. In that new life, she would leave behind the mantle of First Seat Tang and become a woman of the Zhao family. There would be no desire to vie with anyone else.

But perhaps… it was just a dream.

A wave of exhaustion swept over her. Her eyelids drooped, and her consciousness faded.

Half-aware, she felt Zhao Changhe press a pill to her lips, but the expected breath of life, the kiss of deliverance, never came.

He doesn’t even want to kiss me…

In truth, Zhao Changhe had no time for such tenderness. Tang Wanzhuang, dazed and confused, failed to realize they were still trapped within Wang Daoning’s wall of pressure. This wall did not just imprison; it crushed.

Earlier, when she was still strong, the wall could not overpower her. But now, she could not resist. The pressure forced her away from the wall and into Zhao Changhe’s arms, her body pressed tightly against his.

Treatment was secondary now. If Zhao Changhe could not find a way out, he would be forced to watch his woman be crushed to pulp in his embrace—and he might not survive either.

He wrapped Tang Wanzhuang tightly in his arms, shielding her from the crushing pressure. He glanced around but only saw that every path was sealed.

However, he reached the same conclusion she had earlier: the Wang Clan’s Heavenly Sea-Suppressing techniques relied on qi, not water. If Wang Daoning’s breakthrough into the Profound Control Realm relied on the lingering yin qi from the Sea Emperor’s spirit, it was fundamentally flawed. His mastery was not as absolute as it seemed.

Perhaps that was why he had not been able to finish Tang Wanzhuang swiftly. His strength was not as overwhelming as one might expect.

His earlier arrow and saber strike had indeed caught Wang Daoning off guard, aided by the element of surprise and the mystical power of the bow made from wood with soul-annihilating properties. But to escape unharmed, rather than being overwhelmed, suggested that the gap between their realms was not as insurmountable as it seemed.

This wall of pressure, though seemingly impenetrable, likely had weaknesses.

Zhao Changhe’s mind raced. With a sudden, furious shout, he slammed his fist into the ground.

This punch was not what it had once been. His fist could now unleash a force that could halt ocean waves. A thunderous crack echoed as the palace floor buckled and splintered beneath his blow, a narrow trench opening up beneath the wall of pressure.

As he suspected, the wall lacked adaptability. It was rigid and unyielding and did not adjust to the breach below.

Confidence surged through him. He struck the ground twice more, widening the passage, then pulled Tang Wanzhuang into his arms. With a swift roll, he slipped through the gap together with her and out of the wall’s crushing grasp. Wang Daoning thought he could trap them for a stick of incense’s time, but the escape took mere moments—three punches and a handful of words, not even half a minute.

Had Wang Daozhong been there, he might have cursed his older brother for the lack of care with which he had given dealing with Zhao Changhe.

Amid the crumbling palace ruins, Zhao Changhe leaped further away, seeking refuge in a side hall of unknown purpose. There was no bed, only a few long tables and chairs. One of the tables would have to suffice. He laid Tang Wanzhuang gently upon it, finally allowing himself a breath of relief.

At last, the moment felt right for treatment. Any delay would only worsen her condition.

Zhao Changhe reached into his ring and produced a small paper packet of dried medicinal powder. He had not yet had the chance to refine it into pills, but the potency remained unchanged. He had carefully gathered these herbs on Skyrim Island, selecting those specifically suited to Tang Wanzhuang’s condition. Even while tending to Lady Three’s medicines aboard the ship, he had prepared a backup dose for Tang Wanzhuang.

His dedication to her recovery was beyond question. But it was a devotion he dared not flaunt before Lady Three—had he done so, he would have been lucky to escape a beating.

Unfortunately, now there was no time to brew a fresh decoction. Fortunately, there was also no need. Time was precious, but his foresight had paid off.

He gently parted Tang Wanzhuang’s delicate lips, tipping the powder into her mouth. When she reflexively began to cough, he leaned down and sealed her lips with his own, ensuring the medicine stayed down. At the same time, he channeled the Rejuvenation Art, the Azure Dragon’s healing power surging through her body, mending her recent wounds, repairing her meridians, and nourishing her spirit.

The movements were fluid, flawless—rehearsed in his mind countless times.

Tang Wanzhuang drifted in and out of consciousness, her mind faintly aware of his touch and the warmth that coursed through her. The feeling was indescribable.

If she truly survived this, it would be entirely because of him.

Her eyes fluttered open, meeting Zhao Changhe’s intense gaze, filled with worry and hope.

As she woke, he paused, the kiss lingering for a heartbeat before he began to pull away.

She wrapped her arms around him, preventing his retreat. Their eyes locked, reflections of each other’s souls shimmering in their gaze.

Zhao Changhe hesitated, his tongue brushing against her lips. She understood, parting her teeth to welcome him.

The kiss deepened, a blend of tenderness and desperation. When at last he broke away, breathless, Tang Wanzhuang’s chest rose and fell. Her voice was a fragile whisper, “Am I… alive?”

Barely two minutes had passed. She had teetered on the edge of death and been pulled back just in time.

Zhao Changhe nodded and answered, “You’ll live. But to fully cure you, we’ll need to perform true dual cultivation… I’m not trying to take advantage of you. I hope you understand that.”

Tang Wanzhuang closed her eyes briefly, her face turning away as a flush crept over her cheeks. Her voice was barely audible as she asked, “H-here…?”

Her pale cheeks were gradually flushing with color.

Zhao Changhe was momentarily stunned by her words, his expression turning oddly conflicted.

Of course, here and now was not the place for such a thing, and this was far from being the right time. His intention was for her to find a safe place to hide and recover, and only when everything was settled would he come back for her. Surely someone as intelligent as Tang Wanzhuang would understand that…

What she seemed to be implying was that as long as he desired it, she was willing, be it anywhere or anytime.

Zhao Changhe scratched his head and leaned close to whisper, “You should go for now. Find a safe place to hide… and wash up while you wait.”

—A bandit’s promise.

He had once proclaimed, half-jesting, that next time he might set his sights on Tang Wanzhuang herself. And now, that wild declaration had become reality. She would wait for him, pristine and willing.

A faint blush rose on Tang Wanzhuang’s cheeks, tinged with embarrassment. Yet she did not retort or scold him. Instead, she softly asked, “And where do you intend to go now?”

Not far from them, beneath the Imperial Ancestral Temple, the most crucial battle in the land was raging. Though only two or three minutes had passed, the outcome remained uncertain.

She murmured, “Your strength isn’t enough for a battle of this scale. Don’t go…”

Zhao Changhe was surprised. Has Wanzhuang really given up on the fight?

Tang Wanzhuang continued, “It’s not that I don’t care, but compared to your safety, it matters much less.”

Her words laid her heart bare, and Zhao Changhe felt a deep surge of emotion. Yet he still insisted, “I have to go. If someone like Yang Jingxiu can contribute to the battle, so can I.”

Tang Wanzhuang’s eyes searched his face, serious and probing. “Why take such a risk? You’ve never concealed your belief that His Majesty doesn’t deserve the throne.”

“Two reasons. First, if Xia Longyuan dies, the land will splinter into chaos. Who would then stand against the northern barbarians? Even if we had the strength, relying on the goodwill of a few heroes isn’t enough. I fear even more opportunists will emerge, colluding with the barbarians for their own ambition. On my way here, I heard Chang’an fell two months ago, sacked by barbarians who plundered it and retreated. It seemed… suspicious. Could Li Gongsi have betrayed us, supplying the barbarians with grain and slaves under the guise of defeat? Perhaps I’m paranoid, always suspecting the worst of the aristocratic families. But even if Li Gongsi is innocent, I trust Wang Daoning’s integrity even less.”

A smile emerged on Tang Wanzhuang’s lips.

If loyalty were simply a matter of choosing a worthy sovereign, then Zhao Changhe himself was far more deserving of her allegiance than the current emperor.

Even mighty figures like Li Shentong, Yuxu, or Yue Hongling, though they cared for the people, still lacked the vision of a ruler. Their thoughts were too narrow, bound to the ways of wandering martial artists. In this world, the only ones who truly carried the weight of the nation in their hearts were herself and Zhao Changhe.

“And the second reason?”

“The second”—Zhao Changhe’s voice dropped to a cold, steely edge—“is that Wang Daoning dared to try to kill you. I won’t rest until one of us is dead.”