Chapter 47: Chapter 47: Unexpected Betrayal

CHAPTER 47

Unexpected Betrayal

LUO FAN

I returned home late that night to find Jinjing waiting for me. She had left the door ajar, keeping watch for my arrival. When she saw me step through, she let out a deep sigh of relief and murmured her thanks for my return.

For the next two days, we spoke little, the air between us heavy with unspoken words. Despite the silence, we carried on with our daily routines as if nothing had changed.

When we finished preparing the latest batch of medicines, we set out for another village, this time farther away. Knowing it might take over a week before we could return, we packed ample supplies for the journey.

Although I had resolved to overlook the secret she had kept about her son and embrace the child as my own once we were married, the unease between us lingered. The lively conversations and playful teasing that once colored our days had vanished, leaving behind a quiet tension that neither of us dared to address.

When we arrived at the village, the locals greeted us warmly and offered us a small cabin to stay in during our visit.

That night, Jinjing sat by the dim lantern light, counting the money we had earned, while I rested near the window, quietly watching her.

“Do you think we have enough for a simple ceremony?” I asked.

Her hands froze, and she looked at me, her eyes wide with surprise. “Y-you mean it?”

I frowned slightly.

“You still want to marry me, even after...?”

I let out a soft sigh. “If anything, knowing you have a son makes me want to marry you more. The child needs a father—and a surname.”

Her breath hitched, and I saw her wipe at her eyes. A quiet sob escaped her, and she quickly tried to mask it with a shaky laugh. “What will his surname be?”

I thought for a moment before answering. “Luo.”

She nodded through her tears. “Luo Mingli. That has a nice ring to it.” She laughed again, but it soon dissolved into more crying.

Her emotions seemed overwhelming and raw, far beyond what I expected. Concerned, I asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, wiping her tears once more. “Everything’s fine... It’s good. It’s all good.” But as she said it, another wave of sobs came, this time without laughter.

I moved closer, cupping her face gently. “Tell me what’s weighing on your heart.”

“I just feel so guilty,” she whispered through her tears. “For everything I’ve done to you.”

I exhaled deeply and pulled her into my arms, holding her close as she cried like a child lost in a storm.

When her sobbing finally subsided, I helped her to bed, tucking her in for the night. As I turned to close the window, a movement caught my eye. In the distance, a shadow lingered, barely visible in the faint moonlight.

I recognized that silhouette immediately and knew I couldn’t dismiss it. There had to be a reason he had come all this way.

Stepping quietly out of the cabin, I followed the direction where the figure had disappeared, the cool night air sharp against my skin. Once I was far enough from the village, I called softly, “Lord Ruan?”

A presence stirred behind me, and when I turned, there he was—Ruan Yanjun, his form cloaked in the shadows.

“Sect Leader Ruan,” I greeted, taking a few cautious steps toward him. “What brings you here?”

“Don’t trouble yourself about me,” he replied, his tone casual. “I’m just here to watch a show.”

“Does this ‘show’ involve one of the villagers?” I asked, assuming he might have taken an interest in someone’s plight. Ruan Yanjun had a peculiar fascination with observing people’s struggles.

A smirk played on his lips. “Not exactly. But the subject of my amusement is standing right here.”

I sighed, already weary of his cryptic games, and turned away. “Then enjoy your entertainment, Lord Ruan. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Wait.”

I stopped, glancing back at him, meeting his gaze. There was something unreadable in his eyes, something I couldn’t quite pin down.

He took a few deliberate steps closer, his presence unsettling in the quiet night. "You haven’t broken up with that woman yet. Are you seriously planning to proceed with the wedding despite her hiding the existence of her child from you?”

“Lord Ruan, I know exactly what you’re trying to do,” I replied, meeting his gaze steadily. “You’re attempting to drive a wedge between us with your schemes. But I am a man of my word. I promised to marry her, and I will. Nothing you say or do will change that.”

“Of course you will,” he said with a knowing smirk. “I’m well acquainted with your foolish principles. You’re predictable, Luo Fan. A man of virtue standing firm, even when it means marrying a former prostitute with an illegitimate child. But tell me—have you truly considered the consequences? The esteemed Priest Luo Fan, once revered as the Divine Mage, reduced to scandalous whispers and ridicule.”

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“She is not to blame for her circumstances,” I said firmly. “Life was cruel to her, and she did what she had to do to survive.”

“Then tell me, are you too at the end of your rope? Are you so desperate that marriage has become your last resort?"

"I chose this path of my own accord," I replied firmly. "No one has forced or coerced me into it."

"Why do I get the sense that you’re using this marriage as an escape?" He leaned in slightly, his teasing smile sharp enough to cut. "Is there something within you that feels... out of place? Something you’re trying to suppress by rushing into marriage?"

I frowned, unsure of his meaning at first. But as his wicked smile deepened, realization dawned.

He was alluding to himself. He believed I harbored feelings for him, feelings that felt so fundamentally wrong to me that I had decided to bury them under the weight of a marriage.

The thought alone was enough to churn my stomach.

I stepped back abruptly. “Stay away from me,” I growled.

He laughed, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Ah, my dear A-Fan, some things never change. You’re still so easy to provoke.”

My fists tightened at my sides. “You have the audacity to think such nonsense.”

“Oh?” His tone feigned innocence. “What nonsense might that be?”

I took a deep breath, deciding it was pointless to argue further. “If there’s nothing more, I’m leaving.”

He stopped me with a single remark. “That child—what do you intend to do about him?”

I turned back, my voice resolute. “I’ll adopt him and give him my name. That way, others won’t dare to question his status.”

Ruan Yanjun’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but his composure quickly returned. “How noble of you,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “However, that will cause quite the scandal when you ascend to the throne. And if you claim the child as your own, it could complicate the hierarchy of potential heirs."

"Lord Ruan," I said, exasperated, "I've already made it clear that I have no desire to become emperor. Why do you still trouble yourself with such trivialities?"

"I'm ensuring that your future reign, whether you want it or not, is free of chaos," he replied sharply. "Cleaning up potential messes now is my duty."

I sighed deeply, frustration building. "What will it take to convince you that I truly don't want the throne? Nothing you say will change my mind."

"Nothing," he answered simply.

"Then, Lord Ruan, I ask that you leave me in peace."

"I have left you alone," he said, a sly smile playing on his lips. "You were the one who came to meet me here."

I drew a steadying breath, swallowing my retort. "Then I'll take my leave now."

"One last thing," he interjected, halting my steps.

I stopped, waiting.

"Ask her where she’s been spending the money you’ve worked so hard for," he whispered, his tone sharp and deliberate.

I frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

He took a step back, his expression unreadable. "Just a reminder not to trust completely. But never mind—I know you won’t listen." With that, he turned away, vanishing into the shadows in the blink of an eye.

His words lingered, unsettling me. My thoughts drifted back to Jinjing’s unusual behavior—she had been going out for three consecutive days before we left for this village.

Could it be that Ruan Yanjun had seen her spending excessively?

When I returned to the cabin, I checked the purse where she kept our earnings. My chest tightened at the sight. The money we had been saving for our wedding was nearly gone.

Was this why she had been crying earlier? Had guilt consumed her because she’d spent the money we were saving?

But if she had spent it, where had it gone? She hadn’t brought anything back with her after those outings, not even the smallest purchase.

*****

The next morning, with all our stock sold, we packed up and began our journey back to Yueshu City. I chose not to bring up what I had discovered just yet. It seemed wiser to wait until we were home, where we could discuss it without the tension ruining our travels.

As we walked, I noticed Jinjing glancing over her shoulder repeatedly. She seemed distracted, her eyes darting as if searching for something—or someone.

“You seem uneasy,” I said, keeping my tone casual.

She shook her head quickly, a little too quickly. “I’m just admiring the mountains from here.”

I glanced to the right, where the outline of distant mountain ranges stretched along the horizon. Even through my slightly blurred vision, they held a rugged beauty that might have inspired awe in another moment.

I was about to comment when movement ahead caught my attention. From behind the trees lining the dirt road, several men stepped out, their postures tense and purposeful.

I halted abruptly and positioned Jinjing behind me. “When I engage them, you run,” I said firmly. “Do you understand?”

She didn’t reply. Instead, I heard her stifled sobs, trembling behind me.

“Don’t be afraid,” I reassured her, my voice steady. “Just run.”

“Be careful,” she whispered through her tears.

“I’ll keep them distracted. Count to three and go.”

Gripping my bamboo stick tightly, I surged forward.

Three men rushed at me simultaneously: one wielded a whip, another twin knives, and the third a spear.

I struck and parried with precision, using the stick both offensively and defensively.

Though they weren’t as formidable as the attacker I’d faced before, their combined skill was still superior to mine. Yet, raw strength wasn’t everything. My experience and acute perception gave me an edge. I read their movements with startling clarity, anticipating each strike before it landed.

For now, I managed to evade their blows, their weapons slicing only air.

But my endurance had its limits. My body, still recovering from its frailty, was already beginning to falter. It was only a matter of time before fatigue caught up with me.

The fight was hopeless, but victory wasn’t my goal. I only needed to delay them long enough for Jinjing to escape.

When I glanced back, she was still rooted in place, trembling.

“Run!” I shouted. The momentary distraction cost me—a whip lashed across my face, leaving a searing sting.

A spear thrust toward my side, but I anticipated the move and flipped backward, landing a few feet away. Before I could regain my footing, the knife-wielding attacker darted behind me with blinding speed. I barely managed to deflect one blade with my stick, but the second sliced across my arm, drawing blood.

Wounded and exhausted, I kept fighting, my body screaming with every movement. The men pressed their advantage, relentless and coordinated. My chest tightened, and blood trickled from the corner of my mouth.

Breathing became an impossible task as my strength ebbed. My vision dimmed, and the world tilted.

For a fleeting moment, everything went black.

When consciousness returned, it was too late. My wrists were bound tightly behind my back, and a spear tip hovered at my throat. The fight was over. Resistance now would only bring further pain.

I turned, desperate to catch a glimpse of Jinjing, hoping she had at least managed to escape.

But she was still there.

Shock coursed through me. All my effort—all the pain I endured—had been for nothing. She hadn’t run. She stood frozen, watching as I fought.

I opened my mouth to shout at her, to urge her to flee, but then I saw it. The man with the whip tossed her a heavy coin purse.

A cold chill seeped into my bones, paralyzing me.

No. This couldn’t be real. Not Jinjing. My betrothed wouldn’t—couldn’t—betray me.

I stared at her, unable to hide the disbelief in my eyes. Every fiber of my being silently pleaded for an explanation, an assurance that I was wrong.

But her tears told me otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, her voice trembling as she clutched the coin purse. “Forgive me. I had no choice.”

Her words struck like a blade to the heart.

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. What was there to say when the person I trusted most had just betrayed me?

The weight of her words crushed me, and before I could even process the betrayal, a sharp blow landed on the back of my neck.

The world around me faded into darkness.