Red Yi dashed forward several steps but had to stop.

The music and singing stopped abruptly, and every guest’s gaze locked onto her. Realizing there was nowhere to hide, she looked around in panic, and suddenly, the sound of a fist slamming the table came from behind.

Red Yi spun around—sure enough, He Qing was on his feet in fury, charging toward her. She stumbled back several steps and shouted, “Don’t come any closer!”

He Qing, of course, ignored her, but he halted all the same when someone caught his eye.

He Qing forced a cold smile and clasped his fists together, bowing: “Your Grace.”

A lump formed in Red Yi’s throat. She stilled, looked back, even more frightened.

Xi Linchuan had already risen and moved from his seat. Seeing Red Yi clutching at her collar in terror, he immediately understood the situation. His gaze landed on her ashen face, and his expression darkened as he spoke her name softly: “Red Yi.”

His tone carried a clear reproach. Red Yi, still trembling with fright, could no longer hold back: “He attacked me first!”

Before she could finish speaking, a metallic ring sliced through the air. Red Yi looked up as He Qing lunged forward with his sword.

She shrieked inwardly, “It’s over!” and tried to dodge—but her feet felt rooted to the ground.

She clenched her eyes shut. In the darkness of her mind, she felt a weight on her arm, then was spun around. Before she could react, she heard metal clash behind her.

After several tense breaths, she dared to open her eyes. To her terror, Xi Linchuan had drawn his sword—positioned firmly against He Qing’s blade—and the two were locked in a tense stand-off.

Every guest froze in shock, the room deathly silent.

He Qing’s breathing was harsh, still spiked with rage, each inhalation audible.

Moments later, Xi Linchuan shifted his sword. With dramatic swiftness, he turned the blade and struck forward! He Qing stumbled backward to parry; the momentum shifted instantly. The attacker became the on-guard.

Their swords rang with metallic clinks and sparks flew. In the blink of an eye, He Qing was pressed back toward the doorway, his heel against the threshold with no room to retreat.

Their blades grazed with a fierce tsing—only stopping when the tips clashed against each other. He Qing ground his teeth, then twisted his wrist and thrust toward Xi Linchuan’s chest.

Xi Linchuan twisted his wrist in turn, deflecting the blow, then slashed at He Qing’s upper arm. He Qing lost all strength in his grip as Xi Linchuan seized his sword hand.

With a powerful yank, He Qing was disarmed. Xi Linchuan tossed the fallen blade aside; it clattered several yards away.

He Qing’s voice trembled with fury as he stared at Xi Linchuan’s left hand—already bleeding—with cold derision: “This is rather desperate for a mere dancing girl, isn’t it?”

Xi Linchuan returned a cold smile and said nothing further. He sheathed his sword and casually strode back to his seat.

“You are born from the lowest of stations, close in status to a mere servant girl!” He Qing spat, causing a murmur to ripple through the hall.

Red Yi looked on in shock. Xi Linchuan’s feet paused, his expression calm. He seemed to ponder how to respond—or whether to wait for He Qing to speak more.

“You dare gain the rank of marquis for defeating eight hundred cavalry? My father, a veteran of countless campaigns, never earned such a title! You did it merely with eight hundred light cavalry—and only because the Empress is your aunt!” He Qing sneered.

“He Qing!” Xi Linchuan said sharply, eyes glinting with icy resolve.

A buzz of whispers went through the guests, anticipating a fierce debate over accomplishments and the title. But Xi Linchuan turned away from He Qing. His gaze was level and measured as he addressed him coolly: “Whether she’s servant-born or of gentle birth matters not. No one outside my household has the right to lay a hand on her.”

He made no mention of military merit or marquis rank.

“If ever she fails in her duties, I will replace her,” he continued calmly, eyes sweeping the assembly. “But as for harming her in any way—it would be my decision alone.”

He Qing fell silent.

Xi Linchuan did not press him further. He Qing, wounded by this rebuke and left speechless, eventually turned and strode away. The banquet unraveled without ceremony.

Guests departed cautiously, bowing to Xi Linchuan. A few loyal soldiers, flushed with pride, reached for their swords to follow He Qing—but were held back.

Servants quietly cleared away the dishes. The singers and dancers silently withdrew—no one dared to utter a word.

A moment after Xi Linchuan left the main hall, Red Yi was escorted to his study.

Inside, the candlelit room was bright and silent. Xi Linchuan sat at his desk, his left hand laid flat. His right hand calmly wound a white cloth around his hand.

“Your Grace…” Red Yi spoke hesitantly. He looked up, meeting her eyes filled with confusion and fear, then said softly, “Quite a lively banquet we had. Truly a spectacle.”

Red Yi paused, frowning. She stammered, “He—he touched me. I couldn’t just stand by.”

Xi Linchuan inhaled a long breath and regarded her thoughtfully—the curiosity and astonishment at her stance was familiar again.

In their past life, this kind of incident—dancers attracting unwanted attention from guests—wasn’t rare. She had always managed it tactfully… until he himself intervened, removing her from serving others and made her his own consort.

Now, he pondered: what if he hadn’t chosen her? What if another prominent gentleman had attempted to take her as a concubine? Would she refuse all the same?

He at least knew she wouldn’t fight back openly like this.

“I heard he wanted to make you his concubine,” he said quietly. “Why didn’t you go with He Qing?”

Red Yi, startled by his question, replied carefully: “Why would I go with him?”

“You want to buy your freedom, yes?” Xi Linchuan began wrapping her hand wound. “He Qing would arrange to tear your tie to the household—but that’s not what you want.”

She shivered at the implication. “Exchanging my body just to redeem myself?!” she fought back, voice cold. “I can work and earn my freedom—why degrade myself? In your eyes… how far beneath you are we entertainers?”

Xi Linchuan’s fingers paused for a moment on the cloth.

Silence followed as he hesitated, then asked, “And if I wanted to make you my concubine?”

Red Yi gasped, unable to believe her ears. After a moment’s hesitation, she answered tremblingly: “That’s not the same. I redeem myself to be free—not to secure a proper household registration.”

There was a world of difference.

He Linchuan suddenly smiled. He finished bandaging her hand, tucked the end of the cloth away, stood, and as he left, said softly: “You should go rest. Soon… I will need you again.”

Red Yi barely had time to ask what he meant before his footsteps faded away. She stood still for a while, mind buzzing, then took her leave and returned to her room.

Up until last night she still swept the courtyard at night; even this morning she slept until midday.

Jet-lagged and restless, Red Yi lay awake in bed, watching Green Sleeve sleeping soundly beside her and unable to even whisper. She shifted from back to side, then back to back, until she heard a knock.

“Come in,” she answered softly, rising to get dressed and light the lantern.

A maid stepped in with a bow. “Miss Red Yi, His Grace requests your presence.”

Her heart fluttered—he’d kept his word.

She followed the maid along unfamiliar halls, but soon recognized the destination: Xi Linchuan’s residence.

She opened the door to soft voices: one harsh and angry, the other lazy and congested.

Stepping in and bowing low, she said, “General.”

Zheng Qi glanced at her, then asked tiredly, “Isn’t she just an entertainer?”

Xi Linchuan yawned, dressed casually in white linen, leaning on the desk. He sighed: “I’ve already told my uncle—it’s not important.”

Zheng Qi’s temper flared again. “You struck He Qing, a general’s son, and dismiss it as nothing? Do you realize this scandal has reached the entire city—and likely the Emperor himself?”

“Let him know,” Xi Linchuan replied coolly, clearly wanting no more discussion and to be left to sleep.

Red Yi, still in respectful posture, glanced between them and sighed softly. Zheng Qi scolded, exasperated: “Your temper… but tomorrow, you must offer He Qing an explanation.”

“It’s not that simple, uncle…” Xi Linchuan frowned briefly, then stood and casually lifted his sword from its rack, handing it to Zheng Qi. “Why don’t you go chop his head and bring it to He Qing? Tell him, ‘This is the man your son wanted as a concubine—here’s half, and if he persists, I’ll send the rest.’”