LOVE IS A TRAGEDY

CHAPTER 9 — THE EDGE OF THE HUNTER’S HEART

The forest was a cathedral of darkness—towering pines blotting out the moon, thick brush whispering secrets beneath the cold wind. Yanfei’s breaths came sharp and uneven as she and Lian Zhen pushed deeper into the woods, their footsteps swallowed by damp moss and fallen leaves.

Behind them, the distant thunder of hooves echoed through the night.

Rui Shen was coming.

And he was alone.

That made it even worse.

Yanfei slowed, pressing a hand against a tree to steady herself. “We’re not going to outrun him. He’s tracking us by instinct.”

“He won’t find us,” Lian Zhen whispered, though his voice betrayed doubt. “Once we reach the rebels, they’ll cover our trail.”

Yanfei exhaled. “If we reach them.”

Then she grabbed his arm—hard.

A faint vibration trembled through the ground.

Not many riders.

Just one.

Lian Zhen’s eyes widened. “It’s him.”

Yanfei pulled him behind the thick roots of an ancient cedar. “Hide.”

They crouched in silence.

The hooves grew closer. Slower.

Measured.

Predatory.

Yanfei’s heart thudded painfully. She didn’t breathe.

Rui Shen emerged between the trees like a specter carved from shadow and steel. His armor gleamed faintly in the moonlight, black and cold, like frost on a blade. His horse snorted, pawing the earth as Rui Shen scanned the darkness.

He said nothing.

Just breathed.

Listening.

His silence was worse than shouting.

“Yanfei.”

His voice cut through the trees like a knife—soft, controlled, terrifying.

“I know you’re here.”

Yanfei’s stomach dropped.

He dismounted, slowly, every movement deliberate. The forest seemed to shrink around him.

“You always run east when you’re scared,” he said quietly, walking with the cold patience of a wolf. “You think the dense trees will hide your trail. They never do.”

Lian Zhen’s grip tightened around Yanfei’s waist.

Rui Shen stopped directly in front of their hiding place.

Without looking down, he said:

“Come out.”

Yanfei swallowed hard.

Lian Zhen whispered, “Don’t move.”

But she knew.

Rui Shen already knew exactly where they were.

He turned his head slightly, and for the first time she saw his profile—jaw clenched, eyes dark and hollow, grief etched in the tension of his shoulders.

That was the vulnerable part.

Then he pivoted sharply, drawing his sword in a flash.

The explosion of violence was immediate—rage unleashed.

“I SAID COME OUT!”

Yanfei flinched.

Lian Zhen clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep her still.

Too late.

Rui Shen struck the tree above them, the blade slicing through bark and splintering the trunk. Chunks of wood exploded above Yanfei’s head, raining down.

She cried out.

He heard it.

In a single motion, Rui Shen tore the tree apart and dragged her forward, fingers locking around her wrist with bruising force.

“YANFEI!”

She stumbled into him, breath crushed from her lungs, dragged against the hard metal of his armor.

His voice trembled—cold, furious, breaking.

“You run from me?” he whispered. “You hide from me?”

His words were ice.

His eyes were flames.

“You think I wouldn’t find you?”

Yanfei opened her mouth to answer—but Lian Zhen lunged from behind the shattered roots, tackling Rui Shen from the side.

Steel clanged.

A fist slammed into armor.

Rui Shen staggered half a step—only half—then pivoted and smashed his elbow into Lian Zhen’s jaw. The smaller man crashed into the ground, blood spraying the leaves.

“You,” Rui Shen snarled. “You dare touch me?”

Lian Zhen wiped blood from his lip. “If you want her, you go through me.”

Rui Shen laughed once—short and merciless.

Then he was on Lian Zhen, grabbing his collar and slamming him into a tree.

“You think you can protect her?”

His voice was low, shaking with fury.

“You couldn’t even protect yourself from a noose.”

Yanfei rushed forward. “Stop! Please—stop!”

Rui Shen didn’t.

His rage stormed through his body, muscles tense, breath ragged.

He raised his sword to Lian Zhen’s throat.

Yanfei screamed, throwing herself between them.

“Rui Shen, don’t!”

The blade froze inches from her neck.

His hand trembled.

His jaw tightened.

His shoulders shook with effort.

She placed her palm on his chestplate—right over his heart. It felt like it was hammering wildly beneath the metal.

“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t kill him.”

Rui Shen’s brows knit together in anguish.

“Why?”

His voice cracked.

“Why do you keep choosing him?”

She opened her mouth—hesitated—closed it again.

The silence was an answer.

A devastating one.

Rui Shen’s breath shattered.

“Yanfei,” he whispered, so broken it nearly brought her to tears. “If you say his name… one more time… I swear the gods themselves won’t stop what happens next.”

Her lips parted.

“Rui Shen—”

“DON’T.”

He slammed the sword into the ground, blade sinking deep into the forest floor.

Then he suddenly grabbed Yanfei’s face with both hands, pulling her close, forehead pressed to hers. His voice trembled between fury and desperation.

“You were mine,” he whispered.

“You were EVERYTHING I had left. And now you run with him?”

Her breath hitched.

Tears stung her eyes.

She whispered the truth he feared:

“I can’t let you kill him.”

Rui Shen’s hands went limp.

His heart broke right against her skin.

Then his expression hardened—cold again.

The softness vanished.

Without warning, he shoved her aside, spun, and punched Lian Zhen in the ribs. The rebel crashed to the ground, coughing blood.

Yanfei screamed, struggling to rise.

Rui Shen grabbed Lian Zhen by the hair, dragging him across the dirt toward his horse.

“No—Rui Shen—please!” Yanfei cried.

“NO.”

His voice thundered.

“He dies.”

He threw Lian Zhen toward the horse, raising his sword with lethal intent.

Then—

“STOP!”

Red arrows hissed through the air—five, ten, twenty—embedding into the trees around Rui Shen.

A rebel whistle echoed.

Yanfei’s breath caught.

They had reached the hidden camp.

Shadowy figures emerged from the darkness, surrounding the clearing with drawn bows and masks of crimson cloth.

“Step away from him, General,” a rebel commander said coldly.

“You’re outnumbered.”

Rui Shen didn’t flinch.

“One of you touches me,” he said, voice dropping to a terrifying calm, “and I will bury this entire forest.”

The rebels tightened formation.

Yanfei stepped between them.

“Stop,” she rasped. “No one attacks. Rui Shen—please. If you kill him, this becomes a war.”

Rui Shen looked at her.

Really looked at her.

His eyes were glossy.

“You already made it a war,” he whispered.

He sheathed his sword.

The rebels exhaled—relief short-lived.

Rui Shen grabbed Lian Zhen by the collar again—and pressed a pressure point behind his neck.

Lian Zhen collapsed unconscious.

Yanfei gasped.

“No—NO—Rui Shen!”

He hauled Lian Zhen over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

Then he turned to her, expression hollow.

“You—” he said, voice cracking—

“you I cannot kill.”

He swallowed.

“But him?”

He looked down at Lian Zhen’s limp body.

Rage twisted his features.

“Him I can.”

Yanfei lunged toward him, but the rebels held her back.

“LET ME GO!” she cried, fighting against them.

Rui Shen took one slow step backward into the shadows, Lian Zhen slung over his shoulder.

“Yanfei…”

His voice trembled.

“If you follow me…

If you stand in my way again…

I swear—on the ashes of everything we used to be—

I will break you.”

Their eyes locked.

A lifetime of trust burned to the ground in seconds.

Then he vanished into the trees.

With Lian Zhen.

Captured.

Helpless.

Yanfei fell to her knees, chest collapsing.

She whispered one sentence in the cold night:

“Rui Shen… please don’t do this…”

But he was already gone.

And the tragedy deepened.