Transmigrating into the Prince Regent’s Beloved Runaway Wife

With a small kerosene lamp, Meng Huan confirmed they were all asleep before curbing his trembling wrist and drawing the same seal as Lin Bozhou’s. He only wanted to make sure he could draw it, and now it seemed he could.

Meng Huan used the vermilion brush to erase the seal.

A dizzy-like faintness struck his brain, and Meng Huan couldn’t help but rest his jaw on the table. However, when he woke again, a tingling sensation drilled through his brain, and the skin around his body began to heat up as if he was being baked by fire.

He had been feeling cold earlier, but now he felt warm again.

Because he had a fever.

His eyelids could barely open, and he drowsily slumped on the table. When it was dawn, the group of foreigners also woke up one after another, and the old man hurriedly came in from outside. “No, they began to search from house to house in the city. I guess it will soon come to us. We must think of a way to get out of the city as soon as possible. Otherwise, there is only one road to death!”

The atmosphere became very silent.

They could not find a way out of the city and were entirely out of options.

A confrontation was absolutely impossible. The armed Jinyi Guards and the capital army would beat them into a sieve if they broke through the city gate by force. However, if they stayed in this room and were searched from door to door, they would definitely be found out soon.

In the dead silence, this group of foreigners felt desperate.

However, someone saw Meng Huan on the side. “Or else, let’s cut off one of his ears first and give it to Lin Bozhou so that the gates can be opened wide, or we will kill his wife?”

Meng Huan glanced at him dizzily, his lips dry, and did not say anything.

“Impossible,” An Chui propped himself firmly on the tabletop. “You don’t know Lin Bozhou; he would never agree to such childish conditions. Even if he did, he would secretly trick us so we couldn’t escape his fingers.”

An Chui curved his lips and laughed mockingly, “Moreover, Han people in power are very arrogant and cocky. Even the most beautiful beauty is no different from a plaything in their eyes, so to make him sacrifice for a toy is a complete fool’s dream.”

It must be said that An Chui fully grasped the feudal dynasty’s disgraceful situation.

But he didn’t know that this was a romance novel, and if they adopted this method, maybe Lin Bozhou would go brain-dead and let them escape–only Meng Huan’s ears would be cut off.

Thanks to An Chui, Meng Huan temporarily saved his ears.

Meng Huan’s nasal cavity stung, and his breathing slowed as he quietly listened to them talk, not holding back a couple of coughs.

After being heard, the old man approached, looked at his miserable white face, and said, “No, he’s sick.”

The clan members had long been impatient. “That’s why he shouldn’t follow us to escape. He will only become a drag! How about killing him and throwing his corpse out? When Lin Bozhou finds him, the guard at the city gate will definitely become weaker.”

This group of people like them dared to suggest anything now to save their lives.

But as soon as this man finished saying this, he was stabbed in his abdomen, blood gushing out, and he stared slightly wide-eyed as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

An Chui’s face was stained with the hot blood that had just spurted out, and he pulled the bloody knife out and put it on the table with a gloomy and unpredictable expression. “I will keep his life! If anyone mentions killing him again, don’t blame me for being merciless!”

The man fell to the ground, and a terrible silence fell over the room.

They couldn’t figure out why An Chui would kill his kinsman for an outsider.

Meng Huan lifted his head, feeling numbness from his chest to back and unspeakable fear. The dim light swayed in the room, and the silent atmosphere made everyone’s blood cold.

The hot smell of blood permeated out.

An Chui closed his eyes and said, “I thought of a way to escape.”

The crowd looked at him with both eyes, and none spoke.

An Chui sat back in his chair and picked up a handkerchief to wipe away the blood from his cheeks. His words were the most effective in this group, equivalent to an order, “The person who killed the restaurant owner that day, go to the yamen and turn himself in.”

After saying that, his narrow eagle-like eyes stared at Meng Huan. “And you, write a letter to tell Lin Bozhou that you escaped on your initiative, not kidnapped by anyone.”

In this way, the relationship between Jurchen and Meng Huan was unbound, and the yamen’s vigilance in arresting prisoners would be relaxed. They would not search from house to house again, and for Lin Bozhou, new worries were added.

Lin Bozhou would ponder whether Meng Huan was actively escaping or being kidnapped.

If Meng Huan had taken the initiative to escape, he might have gotten out of the city that day, so the tight security at the city gates would have been useless, giving them a chance to catch a breath. An Chui and Meng Huan could have stayed in the city for a few more days and taken the opportunity to escape.

But–

The clansman muttered, “So we are abandoned? Going to the yamen to give ourselves up will make them stop searching, but we… will surely be dead.”

The candle flame flickered quietly in the room.

“Yes,” An Chui’s features had the lineage of a foreigner with a high nose, and his brows were shrouded in shadow. “Nevertheless, your drunkenness caused the trouble then, and you should have paid for it.”

“But!”

“Clang–” Someone drew his scimitar, looking angry and sad. “The ancestors said that one should never abandon one’s fellow man! An Chui, you would rather save Han’s life than ours. You have betrayed us!”

An Chui: “This is not betrayal.”

He seemed extremely exhausted as he reached out and closed the eyes of his dead companion. The matter had already arrived at daggers drawn’s point. These furious clansmen would tear him to shreds if he didn’t say his reason.