No sooner had Pei Huaiyu finished speaking than the horse beneath them suddenly reared up. It was as if the animal had been struck by a sudden madness; it ignored all attempts to control it, thrashing about wildly as though it had lost its mind.
Ruan Jiaojiao tried to think clearly, to find a way to save them both, but the sheer terror of the violent jolting far outweighed her ability to reason. She could only feel herself pressed tightly against his chest, her nose filled with the faint, cold scent of plum blossoms clinging to his robes. Through the tremors, she caught a glimpse of blood seeping from his sleeve—a jagged cut on his forearm from when he had shielded her from the low-hanging decorations earlier.
"Hold onto me," he said, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly rasp that was rare for him.
Chapter 117