The Underdog Romance of the Scholar and the Beauty

With the plan decided, Pujiu Temple immediately took action according to Zhang Sheng's arrangements.

Although Lady Cui still had doubts in her heart, she had no other choice and could only make the best of a bad situation. She personally wrote a "letter of surrender," with extremely humble language, asking only for three days of preparation time. This letter was delivered down the mountain, and as expected, Sun Feihu was overjoyed upon reading it and proudly agreed.

In the temple, the monks also began to "act." They no longer looked gloomy, but instead rang bells and beat drums, swept the courtyards, presenting a joyful appearance as if preparing for a wedding. This caused Sun Feihu's army to completely drop their guard, with patrol soldiers becoming lazy, gathering to drink and gamble, thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Everything was proceeding according to Zhang Sheng's expectations.

In the western chamber, Zhang Sheng spread out paper and brush, and with a solemn expression began to write the letter that would determine everyone's fate.

In the letter, he first described their friendship as classmates, then explained the danger at Pujiu Temple, and finally detailed the threat of Sun Feihu's bandit troops. Every word was heart-wrenching, every sentence earnest.

At the end, he bit his lip, pricked his finger with the tip of his brush, and signed his name—Zhang Junrui—in fresh blood.

The blood was stark, shocking to behold.

He carefully folded the blood letter and sealed it in an envelope.

Just then, there was a gentle knock at the door.

"Come in."

The door opened, and the person who entered was none other than Hongniang. Behind her followed someone with a veil covering her face, revealing only a pair of eyes like autumn waters.

It was Yingying!

Zhang Sheng sprang to his feet, his heart instantly leaping to his throat. This was the first time since they had known each other that they were alone together, face to face, while fully conscious.

Yingying was clearly extremely nervous as well. She kept her head down, her hands fidgeting with her sash, not daring to look at him.

"Young Master Zhang," Hongniang broke the silence, smiling mischievously, "my young lady heard that you 'mutilated yourself' to write the letter, and she specially came to see if you were dead yet."

"Hongniang!" Yingying scolded her with a mixture of embarrassment and urgency.

Zhang Sheng felt a warmth in his heart, knowing they had come to check on him. Looking at Yingying, he said gently, "The young lady need not worry, I am quite all right."

Yingying slowly raised her head, her beautiful eyes filled with worry, gratitude, and a sentiment he had never seen before, one called "love."

"Zhang Lang..." she finally gathered her courage and softly called him by this intimate name, "the journey to deliver the letter is extremely dangerous, you... you must be very careful."

This tender "Zhang Lang" melted Zhang Sheng's soul. He felt that all his efforts had been rewarded in this moment.

"Yingying..." he too instinctively changed his form of address, "don't worry, though I cannot go personally, the messenger, Monk Huiming, is the temple's most skilled martial artist. As long as he can safely descend the mountain, he will certainly deliver the letter."

Yingying nodded, and after a moment of silence, she took out an exquisite sachet from her sleeve and handed it to Zhang Sheng.

"This is... embroidered by my own hand, with refreshing herbs inside. You've been exhausting your mind these past few days, and even shed blood. Carrying this with you might... might calm your spirit."

Zhang Sheng accepted the sachet. It felt smooth in his hand, still carrying the warmth of her body and a faint fragrance. He noticed a small "Ying" character embroidered with gold thread in one corner.

This was her love token.

"Thank you, Yingying." He clasped the sachet tightly in his palm, as if he were holding the entire world.

Hongniang, watching this scene, quietly withdrew, leaving the space to the young lovers.

In the room, only the two remained, wordless, yet the air was filled with an indescribable sweetness.

"Zhang Lang," Yingying finally spoke again, her voice as light as a breeze, "my mother... she has already made a public promise. If you can drive away the bandits..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but her meaning was obvious.

Zhang Sheng looked at her, his gaze firm as steel, and said each word clearly: "Yingying, listen to me. I, Zhang Junrui, am not driving away the enemy for that reward, not for the prestige of the Prime Minister's household. I do this only for you. For you alone."

"Even if Lady Cui had made no promise, even if I had to stand against the world, I would still protect you completely. Whether it means ascending to heaven or descending to earth, I would not hesitate."

These words struck Yingying's heart like a thunderbolt. She could no longer suppress her feelings, and tears burst from her eyes.

This was not a transaction; this was a vow.

The most sincere, most passionate vow from a man to a woman.

Looking at Zhang Sheng before her, her heart no longer harbored the slightest doubt. She knew that her heart now belonged completely to this seemingly fragile yet truly towering scholar.

The night was deep at the cliff behind the mountain.

An agile figure, with the help of two warrior monks, slid down a thick rope toward the bottom of the cliff as nimbly as a monkey. This was the chosen messenger—Monk Huiming.

Zhang Sheng, Yingying, and Hongniang together, hidden in the shadows, anxiously watched this scene.

Their hearts hung in midair, just like that rope.

Monk Huiming's skills proved excellent indeed. He landed at the bottom of the cliff without a sound, determined his direction, and quickly disappeared into the vast darkness.

Success!

Zhang Sheng let out a heavy sigh of relief.

All preparations were complete; they only needed favorable winds.

Next came a long and agonizing wait.