Chapter 150 I Was Defiled

“This is Mount Baideng,” Wang Pu said. “Your injuries are severe. If we don’t stop the bleeding soon, you’ll die. So I had to find a cave on the mountain to bandage your wounds first. Your husband wasn’t here, but don’t worry—the Jian Nu troops have become like dogs with no home; they’re too busy running for their lives to bother killing your precious husband.”

The Red Maiden softly murmured in acknowledgment. She glanced down and blushed deeply. Her delicate chest was partially exposed; the pink bra had been undone, its strap slipped from her right shoulder to under her left armpit, wrapping around her left breast to cover the wound. Through her open garment, one could see her full bosom and the deep cleavage between.

She wanted to close her open robe but found her whole body weak and heavy, her limbs as if filled with lead, utterly powerless. Then a darker thought struck her: she remembered that Wang Pu had brought only male soldiers; there wasn’t a single woman among them.

So who had tended to her wounds? The one who bandaged her had to undo her robe and then untie her bra to use it as a bandage for her left breast. This meant not only physical contact but also that the person had seen every inch of her most intimate parts.

At the thought of this, the Red Maiden’s face turned pale.

She looked at Wang Pu with a strange expression and softly asked, “Commander Wang, was it... you who bandaged my wounds?”

“Yes...” Wang Pu started to reply but, seeing her unusual expression, thought her wound might have worsened. He swallowed the rest of his sentence and asked with concern, “What’s wrong? Is the pain unbearable?”

Hearing his affirmative answer, the Red Maiden’s vision darkened again, and she fainted.

Wang Pu hurried forward and whispered, “Young lady, what’s wrong?”

She lay silent, her eyes tightly shut.

Wang Pu checked her breathing and relaxed. Though weak, it was steady—she had fainted from blood loss.

Relaxed, Wang Pu’s innate manly nature returned. This was his first close look at the Red Maiden’s beauty. Though pale from loss of blood and with brows furrowed in pain, she was undeniably a beauty.

Her looks did not rival Chen Yuanyuan’s, but her figure was undoubtedly superior.

The fiery red outfit seemed tailor-made for her, outlining her perfect curves vividly. Her full, white bosom pressed upward, stretching the garment open and naturally revealing an enticing cleavage.

What captivated Wang Pu most was her ample hips. The tight red riding pants clung to her shapely bottom, perfectly sculpting her rounded curves. Such beauty could unsettle even the most stoic.

As Wang Pu’s thoughts wandered, a gust of mountain wind blew a piece of black cloth over her face. He reached to remove it but stopped in surprise, then recoiled three steps as if shocked by electricity.

Unbeknownst to him, the Red Maiden had awoken. She stared coldly at him, the black cloth covering her nose and mouth, leaving only her beautiful eyes visible. Wang Pu’s mind raced—this was the female assassin who had tried to kill him in Jining that night.

No wonder she seemed familiar.

“You... it’s you!?” Wang Pu stepped back two more paces, pressed against the cave wall with nowhere to retreat.

Weakly, the Red Maiden asked, “You recognized me?”

Wang Pu nodded. “You’re one of those two female assassins. No wonder you looked familiar—and even your scent is recognizable.”

A sickly flush surged across the Red Maiden’s face. A cold voice echoed in her mind: “He bandaged your wounds, saw your body entirely—you, a wanton woman. After being violated by another man, how can you face your husband?”

“You... please don’t do anything reckless,” Wang Pu said nervously, his impression of her fierce martial skills still vivid. He forgot she was badly injured and barely able to move. “Regardless, I saved your life.”

Breathing heavily, she whispered, “I would rather not have your help.”

“What nonsense is that?” Wang Pu said. “They say a wife drowning one must lend a hand—I cannot let you die.”

“Please, stop,” she pleaded, looking at him with beseeching eyes. “I beg you, say no more.”

Wang Pu’s words about lending a hand reminded the Red Maiden of the saying “in emergencies, one acts according to circumstances.” Then she recalled how he had bandaged her wounds, inevitably thinking he had seen and touched her body. She felt utterly broken; her purity was gone.

“Um...” Wang Pu hesitated, then asked, “May I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

She sighed in relief, grateful he wasn’t going to mention his aid again.

“When we escaped from Jining, there were two other women with you—two consorts of the slave chieftain Huang Taiji. Where did they go?”

Weakly, she replied, “I thought those two women were decent ladies you had rescued.”

“By heaven’s conscience,” Wang Pu protested, “I, Wang Pu, am an honorable man; I would never abduct decent women.”

“I was mistaken,” she said softly. “Those two Jian Nu women followed the White Lotus Holy Mother, who said she would take them as disciples.”

“What? White Lotus Holy Mother?” Wang Pu was stunned. “You mean the White Lotus Sect?”

“Yes, the White Lotus Sect,” she confirmed. “You wiped out tens of thousands of White Lotus followers in Jining. The Holy Mother surely won’t let you go easily. You must be careful.”

She didn’t know why she warned him. She should have hated Wang Pu, for he had violated her purity, yet she could not. Perhaps, as Wang Pu said, he had only saved her in an emergency. He had done nothing wrong. Moreover, since Li Yan led the Shaanxi militia to Datong, Wang Pu’s actions had improved her perception of him.

Li Yan knew Wang Pu’s ambition to become a local warlord and accepted his charity with peace of mind. The Red Maiden knew none of this political stuff; she only knew Wang Pu had saved Li Yan and over twenty thousand militia soldiers’ lives. That was enough. She was a woman who clearly distinguished between kindness and grievance.

“General,” as they spoke, Lu Liu suddenly entered the cave and reported, “A large cavalry unit is approaching the mountain.”

“Large cavalry?” Wang Pu’s heart stirred. “Are they ours or Li’s militia?”

“Looks like both,” Lu Liu answered.

“Go and see,” Wang Pu ordered.

After Wang Pu and Lu Liu left, the Red Maiden began searching the cave for weapons.

Though gentle and tender with Li Yan, softer than any woman, she was fierce by nature. She wanted to commit suicide, feeling defiled by Wang Pu. She could neither kill him in anger nor confess to Li Yan.

She sensed the mutual respect between Li Yan and Wang Pu and knew Wang Pu was unlike other imperial generals—he bore no hostility toward Li Yan and the Shaanxi militia. She didn’t want to ruin their tacit understanding, so she chose death for herself.

Women often obsess over their troubles, thinking only of their own pain, not how their actions affect others. She never considered how Li Yan would feel if she died or how Wang Pu would explain it.

Fortunately, before she found a weapon, Li Yan and Wang Pu returned together.

“Wife,” Li Yan hurried to the haystack and knelt beside her, his voice tender, “Are you alright?”

“Husband,” she whispered, tears streaming like loose pearls.

“It’s alright now,” Li Yan gently wiped her tears. “Rest now. Tomorrow morning, Brother Jing will enter the city to fetch the best physician in Datong. You’ll be fine soon.”

“Husband,” the Red Maiden suddenly said, “Please don’t leave. I have something to tell you.”

“My wife,” Li Yan smiled softly, “Speak after you’ve healed.”

“No,” she insisted, weak yet resolute. “I must tell you now.”

Li Yan sighed, “Very well, speak.”

Closing her eyes, unable to meet his gaze and dreading his reaction, she decided to confess everything.

“Husband, I... I have been defiled.”

“What?” Li Yan’s expression darkened. “What did you say?”

She heard the change in his tone and felt bitterness well up. No man could endure this, no matter how much he loved or cherished his wife. In this world, men could have mistresses and multiple wives, but women could not.

“Husband, I have been defiled,” she repeated, tears quietly falling.

“Who?” Li Yan demanded hoarsely. “Was it those Jian Nu scoundrels?”

The Red Maiden pressed her lips tight, silent. For some reason, she did not name Wang Pu. Perhaps she feared Li Yan would go after Wang Pu, or she doubted Li Yan could defeat him. Maybe she still believed Wang Pu was not a villain. Even she did not know her own thoughts at that moment.