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Not to boast, but the red-vested escorts are barely an obstacle.
Cangse deals with the lady's maids first. They're both strong, well-trained in the Meishan style, but the real threat they pose is in their loyalty: they would fight tooth and nail for their mistress if backed into a corner, and any delay would alert the rest of the wedding procession.
The Jiang escort is next. A sharp tap to the left rear sedan-bearer's anmian knocks him out cold. The red curtains and gold tassels shiver as the sedan lists slightly to the side, unbalanced, but Cangse steps up to her next target before the others feel its shifting weight.
Cangse weaves around the sedan, close to weightless with her qinggong, moving from bearer to bearer with the grace of wind twining through the branches of a tree. Two fingers to vital points or meridians is enough to drop each guard, and a final burst of qi into the yintang acupoint crumples the sixth and final sedan-bearer to his knees.
The wedding sedan gives a final jolt and lands flat on the road.
Its occupant wastes no time yanking the curtain aside, sword drawn and leveled with deadly intent, hand rising to rip away the thick red veil blocking her sight. "You must wish for death—"
Don't be mad, Cangse hopes, using the element of surprise to deliver a final mind-numbing meridian-sealing poke to the young woman's forehead. The bride-to-be pitches forward with a rustle of red silk, landing as dead weight in Cangse's waiting arms.
Cangse breaks for the treeline with the young bride over her shoulder before the rest of the procession realizes they've been robbed.
Yu Ziyuan bolts awake on a bed of her own bridal veil. Her hands fly immediately to her sword. "You!"
Cangse shrugs and smiles brightly from her perch. Yes, it's me!
"You can't—" Yu Ziyuan abandons that line of thinking with a scoff before Cangse can correct her with I can and I did. "Foolish girl," Yu Ziyuan snaps, and ah, she's angrier than Cangse Sanren has ever seen her, including all the times Cangse riled her up on purpose. If looks could kill, Cangse would be prone under Jinzhu and Yinzhu's heels.
Jinzhu and Yinzhu are likely waking up right about now, several li away, so there isn't much time to convince YuYu of their next move.
The colourful ribbons holding Yu Ziyuan's hair in its wedding style have sagged loose on one side. Her makeup must have smudged against Cangse's black-cloaked shoulder during the escape. She looks debauched; it's a devastating combination with her red skirt and wedding finery.
She also looks alive, for the first time in weeks, and anger suits her better than acceptance.
"YuYu. I didn't think this through! Look at you in red, ah."
"Of course you didn't." Yu Ziyuan's mouth twitches violently. "Cangse-sanren. Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Consequences, consequences, always consequences with this woman! "No one in your procession saw me." Yu Ziyuan scoffs, but it's the honest truth: Cangse had slipped by the outer ring of mounted guards, light enough on her feet to not disturb the blades of grass beneath her boots, quick enough that not even Jiang Fengmian or old man Jiang himself had caught a glimpse.
Yu Ziyuan's eyes flash with strong emotion. Those eyes are sunlight off a sword's blade, lightning against the backdrop of clouds, the whip-quick flash of a silver fish changing course underwater. It was that sharp beauty that drew Cangse's attention to begin with, and everything beneath it that held that attention when it tended to wander.
Everyone knows of the Violet Spider. Few cultivators of her generation have built a name for themselves at such a young age. How many could take her in a fight? Match her stride in a night hunt? Precious few, and Cangse is one of the lucky ones.
More importantly, how many could startle a laugh from behind that proud, careful control, or give a reason for a smile to bloom across that serious face? Who else knows what soft surprise looks like on that lovely mouth? Jiang Fengmian, bless him, could never.
"You couldn't bear to see him with someone else?"
Trust that lovely mouth, also, to spin stories in a way Cangse didn't foresee. "See who? Mianmian?" Cangse can't help but laugh. Ziyuan shakes with outrage. "No, no. You think I wanted to be Jiang-furen, ha? I wouldn't be suited to a life like that, and neither would you." A thought shivers down her back, like a drip of cold water sliding under her robes. "Hm. Did I misunderstand? Is that what you wanted?"
Maybe she does want it. Marriage. Yu Ziyuan's closest friend, the young Madam Jin, is expecting her first child in autumn.
(The less said about that situation, the better; not even two years into the marriage, there are already whispers that the heir to the Jin clan has been caught wandering).
"What I want? We're not— I am not a child. We must put away childish desires and do our duty," Yu Ziyuan snaps, never one to play coy with her displeasure. It's one of the things Cangse has come to appreciate about her: that straightforward, harsh mouth, and when you rile her up she does away with veiled pleasantries and unspoken rules, all the open secrets that have tripped Cangse up with cultivators raised in the secular world since the day she descended her teacher's mountain.
Yu Ziyuan says duty like it's final. The only path forward. Maybe she even believes it.
Maybe that's why Cangse can't simply give up.
It isn't that there's anything wrong with Jiang Fengmian. Mianmian is a perfectly polite and charming clan heir. He can be fun, sometimes, when Wei-ge coaxes him out of his shell. He agrees with Cangse's more outrageous ideas, but not in a way that suggests he would ever follow through, or go against the grain.
Mianmian is fine, but Cangse doesn't like how he looks at Yu Ziyuan, like she's a yoke to be worn around an ox's neck, a burden he'll be forced to suffer as part of his filial duty, a responsibility forced upon him but not his choice. She doesn't like the way he always turns to Wei Changze, seeking someone else to explain, or commiserate, or remembering some unspoken grievance, when the proposed match comes up in conversation.
His parents are no better, from what Cangse Sanren observed during her time as a guest disciple. Jiang-furen looks at Yu Ziyuan like a horse that will be worthwhile once it's broken in and humbled, while Sect Leader Jiang speaks of her as the sum of gifts on a dowry inventory, a fine jade bargaining chip in the hands of Sect Leader Yu, barely a person unto herself.
Aiya, it's a lot to explain, and Yu Ziyuan is already panting like her emotions might burst through her skin.
Actually, a fight might wear her down enough to be sensible— But her lovely clothes! No fighting, then, if Cangse can avoid it. "If you don't like what I have to say, you can return. Claim you bested your kidnapper. Or blame me, heh, who would doubt it? Aren't I known for playing pranks? Tell it however you like."
Ziyuan says nothing, only continues to stare like she might force Cangse to keel over with the force of her glare alone. Cangse is used to it.
"San-niang." On the mountain there had been none of this structure, only teacher and disciples, martial brothers and sisters, and Cangse's own parents are a vague blur in her memory. Wei-ge had had to explain the nuances of the marriage contract and clan structure when she asked; it was easily the most words Jiang Fengmian's right-hand man ever spoke to her in one sitting. "If the Jiang are after a daughter-in-law to tend to their ancestral tablets and provide a new generation of little Jiangs, it hardly matters if that daughter-in-law is you or some other girl."
Yu Ziyuan's expression goes unnaturally still, hiding strong emotion behind a face like porcelain. "Do you have any idea what this will do to my family?"
"You've left their house, yes? You're no longer in their care."
Expression tightly controlled, Yu Ziyuan's voice reveals her, coming out strained and thin. "They did not raise me to disgrace them."
Obviously not. Cangse can't argue with that. However, she can argue with the rest. "Would you have chosen him, if you had a choice?"
Cangse doesn't believe so. Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian already clash like oil on water, swirling, never mixing. It doesn't bode well for the future.
Yu Ziyuan bows her face into her sleeves. "Well? What would you have me do?"
"I haven't thought that far ahead." Cangse has a few ideas, some more nerve-wracking to voice than others. "Hm. For now, join me. If my teacher will take you in, I'll gladly beg the favour. If you'd rather strike out on your own, I won't stop you, and if you'd like company, I'll stay. If you go back, it is your decision to make, Yuan'er."
They can be— whatever. Nothing. Old friends who shared kisses in the back mountains of Cloud Recesses; the sort of thing tucked away carefully in memories. Or rogue cultivators. Traveling companions. Cultivation partners. Anything.
The silence stretches out for ages in the evening light.
What they need to be, in this moment, is moving, away from a bridal escort that will soon rally in pursuit if they haven't already. "Will you go back?"
Wide eyes peer up from a bed of red silk to search Cangse's face. "No," Yu Ziyuan says eventually. "Not tonight."
Cangse's fingers hold steady enough to remove the ribbons and pins that hold the bridal crown in place, carefully stashing it in her qiankun sleeve along with any jewelry that isn't sewn into robes. There's no time to remove the rest, but the plain white linen traveling cloak Cangse purchased for tonight is thick enough to cover most of the red.
Not tonight isn't forever, or a promise of a future, but Cangse can work with it.