Quick Transmigration: The Sweetheart Everyone Loves Is Stuck in Romantic Chaos Every Day - Chapter 57

“Let her go.”

The man’s voice was low and magnetic.

The tip of his sword pointed straight at Helian Zijun’s face.

But when his gaze shifted toward Ruan Tang, the killing intent in his eyes instantly melted into tenderness and concern.

“Don’t be afraid, Miss. I’m here.”

Ruan Tang’s peach blossom eyes widened in startled joy.

“Brother Lone City!”

She remembered what he had said yesterday—that he would protect her. A wave of relief instantly washed over her.

If he was here, then Tuoba Hong definitely wouldn’t dare bully her!

She immediately tried to run toward him—

But Helian Zijun’s arm tightened around her slender, soft waist, holding her firmly in place.

Helian Zijun watched the two of them exchange glances, and his chest tightened with irritation.

He laughed coldly in anger, arching a brow. “So it’s you?”

Lone City’s gaze, cold and sharp as the blade in his hand, swept over the man’s hand on Ruan Tang’s waist. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Let go of my lady at once. Otherwise, my sword will show no mercy—”

“It’s not you?”

Helian Zijun frowned, then as if recalling something, his lips curled in mockery.

He deliberately lifted a handful of Ruan Tang’s silky black hair from her shoulder, revealing the pale skin of her neck—marred by messy, ambiguous marks.

“Then who did this? You’re her personal guard, aren’t you? And yet you let another man have his way with your lady?”

Lone City’s pupils contracted sharply at the sight of those marks.

It was as if a needle had pierced his heart, spreading a fine, stinging pain.

Helian Zijun caught his brief moment of distraction and gave a subtle signal.

In an instant, several figures in dark armor appeared around Lone City, weapons drawn, attacking at once.

They were all Helian Zijun’s personal guards—each one an expert fighter.

Individually, they might not match Lone City’s skill, but numbers could still overwhelm him.

Taking down a single “lowly guard” shouldn’t have been difficult.

Ruan Tang panicked.

She clutched Helian Zijun’s arm and cried out urgently:

“Call off your men! Don’t you dare hurt Brother Lone City!”

Helian Zijun, however, didn’t relent.

“Be good. A personal guard is easy to replace. I can get you as many as you want—choose whichever you like, hmm?”

Ruan Tang’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“I only want him!”

Helian Zijun’s face darkened.

—This guard couldn’t be kept.

Hearing her call him “Brother” so intimately had already grated on him.

Now she said “only him”? Unacceptable.

His arm around her waist tightened further.

Expressionless, he gave the order:

“No need to keep him alive.”

Ruan Tang was furious.

She stomped hard on Helian Zijun’s foot and, taking advantage of his flinch, tore herself free—running toward Lone City without a second thought.

Helian Zijun’s face paled. He shouted in alarm:

“Stop! Don’t hurt her!!”

The guards hurried to pull back, but one of them had already thrust his sword forward, the blade about to slice across the girl’s delicate, pale arm.

The next second—

Lone City stepped in front of her, shielding her completely, and took the blow himself.

Hot blood splattered across Ruan Tang’s clothes, with a few crimson drops landing on her fair, refined face.

She froze in shock.

Her lashes trembled. Her eyes reddened in an instant.

“Brother Lone City!!”

Hearing her worried call, Lone City felt a warm ache in his chest.

With his uninjured hand, he gently wiped the blood from her face.

Lowering his eyes with quiet apology and tenderness, he said softly:

“Forgive me, Miss. I dirtied your dress.”

He had taken the blow for her, bled for her—yet spoke nothing of his injury, only that her clothing had been soiled.

Ruan Tang’s heart ached, swelling with an unfamiliar, suffocating emotion that made her want to cry.

She flung herself into his arms—still warm with the scent of blood—and began to sob quietly, pouring all her grievances into his embrace.

At first, Lone City was stiff and flustered, his hands hovering awkwardly, even dropping the black sword he had been holding.

When he finally gathered his wits, he carefully wrapped one arm around her back and patted it gently.

“Don’t cry, Miss. I’m here.”

The tender scene pierced Helian Zijun’s eyes like a thorn.

His brows knit tightly, his face dark with rage.

…

Ruan Tang carefully helped the injured Lone City into the carriage.

It was a luxurious, spacious carriage prepared by Helian Zijun himself, more than large enough to seat several people.

Inside were soft cushions, a fruit platter, and delicate pastries.

“Brother Lone City, does it still hurt? I’ll bandage it for you right away.”

Her voice was soft and sweet.

A faint blush colored Lone City’s cheeks. He seemed slightly embarrassed, but couldn’t bring himself to look away.

“It doesn’t hurt. No need for bandages.”

To him, such a shallow cut was nothing—no bone, no poison.

In truth, he could have blocked the strike with his sword. Yet for some reason, he had chosen to take it with his body.

Perhaps… it was just an excuse to hold her, even for a moment.

Even now, he felt a pang of guilt.

But the way she looked at him, so full of worry and focus, filled him with quiet joy.

Helian Zijun’s cold voice cut through the moment:

“It’s just a scratch. Leave him—he’ll be fine in a few days.”

Ruan Tang pouted, peach blossom eyes glaring at him softly.

“Why are you here?”

Helian Zijun blinked, a bit taken aback.

“This is my carriage. Can’t I be here?”

She turned away with a huff.

“I asked you to prepare a carriage for me, so it’s mine now. I don’t welcome anyone who hurts Brother Lone City. Please get out! Hmph!”

Helian Zijun’s chest rose and fell rapidly with anger, his face turning dark.

But technically… she wasn’t wrong.

The letter she had sent only asked him to prepare a carriage—nothing about traveling together.

At the banquet, he had promised she could call on him for help anytime, so arranging the carriage was simply fulfilling that promise.

She had never said he should come along.

He had assumed—foolishly—that she had changed her mind, that she wanted to elope with him.

So he had happily gathered his guards, packed, and rushed to her side…

Only to find her clinging to some strange man with such obvious affection.

It was enough to drive him mad.

“Who exactly is this man?”

Helian Zijun jabbed a finger at Lone City. “What’s your relationship with him?”

Ruan Tang took out her small handkerchief and began bandaging Lone City’s arm, answering absently:

“He’s my Brother Lone City.”

Helian Zijun ground his teeth, his gaze sweeping over the man again, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes.

“His skills… remind me of the assassin who slaughtered Duke Wei of the State with unusually cruel methods.”

Lone City’s body tensed, his eyes darting instinctively toward Ruan Tang.

It had been revenge, yes—but still killing.

If she knew… would she be afraid?

She was such a pure, delicate girl, untouched by bloodshed or sin.

If she learned what he had done… would she despise him?

But—

She only kept her focus on bandaging his wound, her long lashes trembling slightly as she said softly:

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s just my Brother Lone City.”

Lone City froze.

A rush of complex, overwhelming emotions surged in his chest.

She knew. But she didn’t care.

All she cared about… was that he was her Brother Lone City.

(t/n: “Brother Lone City” is a literal rendering of 孤城哥哥, where 孤城 is his name and 哥哥 is an affectionate term meaning “older brother,” often used by young women to address men they feel close to, whether or not they’re related.)