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"Sir, this is absolutely unacceptable—" the maidservants were so frightened that their legs went weak. They wanted to rush forward to pull her away but dared not, only standing a short distance away with anxious expressions.
Meng Liu calmly looked at the man before her, who had a long sword pressed against her neck and wore a stern expression. She recognized him from the memories forcefully implanted in her mind; he was Zhao Han, an orphan rescued from the battlefield by Song An, and a loyal personal guard trained by the Song Family for Song An.
"Did you have a hand in his death?" Zhao Han's cold eyes were fixed on Meng Liu. Although it was a question, he had already judged her guilty in his heart.
Before Meng Liu could speak, another long sword lunged toward her. Zhao Han turned his blade to block it, while Song Yuan pressed forward with several thrusts, forcing Zhao Han to retreat two steps and create distance between him and Meng Liu before standing protectively in front of her.
"It wasn't her," Song Yuan spoke up first.
Zhao Han's gaze turned icy as it landed on Song Yuan. His voice carried a chill as he demanded, "Evidence."
"I've examined it..." Song Yuan's voice weakened at the thought of that night, becoming vague. "In any case, it wasn't her; she was framed. Those people all committed suicide."
"Dead men tell no tales?" Zhao Han raised his eyes to look past Song Yuan at Meng Liu, clearly unconvinced by Song Yuan's words. "Suspicious."
"No matter what, you all have to suspect me, right? Then I might as well die and accompany him in death," Meng Liu said, tears unexpectedly welling up in her eyes. The cold wind made her sway as if she would be blown away at any moment. Song Yuan instinctively reached out to support her but was dodged by Meng Liu.
Zhao Han said nothing more; he sheathed his sword and turned to walk toward the door, his voice carrying a firm resolve as he stated, "I will find the evidence."
"He just... my brother did him a favor; he just can't accept it for now..." Song Yuan explained on Zhao Han's behalf.
Meng Liu raised her reddened eyes to glare at him. "What about you? Aren't you just as unwilling to believe me? You all wish I would die."
"I..." Song Yuan knew he shouldn't feel this way, but he couldn't help but feel his blood boiling under her glare.
The next day was the day they would send Song An's body to the tomb. Liu Nian Nian was also arranged by Song Yuan to follow in a carriage. Zhao Han silently held onto the hilt of his sword at the end of the procession, scrutinizing the carriage that appeared lavish despite being deliberately decorated in plain white.
That carriage belonged to Meng Liu. Although she was not favored by her father, she was still a princess. The current emperor had few offspring; even those who were not favored had been raised in luxury since childhood and were accustomed to meticulous care in all matters.
As they reached a hillside, chaos suddenly erupted in the middle of the procession. A pile of rolling stones fell from both sides, and all the servants were ordered to immediately protect Song An's coffin. Just as Meng Liu lifted the curtain to check on the situation, she saw a massive boulder hurtling toward the carriage.
Meng Liu's pupils dilated as she watched helplessly as the boulder approached the carriage. Suddenly, a shout rang out nearby: "Go!!"
The startled horses bolted forward just in time to evade the boulder. Meng Liu struggled to steady herself against the carriage; as the curtain fluttered, she caught sight of Zhao Han's face. Even in such a perilous situation, he remained unfazed, his gaze toward her still cold and indifferent, completely unlike someone who had just saved her life.
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