Chapter 1: The Cold Moon's Gift
The wind howled through the bamboo forest, shaking the paper windows of the Lin Manor. Lin Xiaowei sighed, pulling her silk shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her family was no longer rich, and the charcoal for the fire was running low.
"The heavens are truly unkind tonight," she whispered to herself.
Suddenly, a loud thud echoed from the front courtyard. Xiaowei grabbed a lantern and hurried outside. There, lying across the stone path, was a man. He wore black robes of a strange, fine fabric she had never seen before.
She knelt beside him. His face was breathtakingly handsome, with skin as white as polished jade and hair as dark as ink. When she touched his hand to check for a pulse, she gasped. He was freezing.
"Sir? Can you hear me?"
The man's eyes snapped open. They were not brown or black, but a startling, vivid scarlet. He moved with a speed no human could possess, pinning her hand to the ground.
"A human?" his voice was deep, smooth, and carried an accent that sounded like the high courts of a distant land. "How curious. Your blood smells... like jasmine."
Xiaowei trembled, but she did not pull away. "You are hurt. Please, let me help you."
The man stared at her, the red in his eyes fading into a deep, soulful black. He stood up and brushed the dust from his sleeves with effortless grace. He bowed low, his movements more refined than any scholar Xiaowei had ever met.
"I am Lu Chen," he said. "It appears I owe you a life-debt, Young Mistress. Since your manor is in such... disrepair, I shall stay. I will be your butler. I shall cook your meals, guard your door, and eliminate anyone who dares to look at you with disrespect."
Xiaowei blinked, confused. "But I cannot pay you!"
Lu Chen smiled, showing just a hint of sharp, white fangs. "I do not require gold, Little Rose. Your safety is payment enough."
He stood tall, his height dwarfing her petite frame. Despite his weakened state moments ago, he now moved with a terrifying, liquid grace. He looked at the peeling red paint of the manor gates and the weeds growing between the floorboards. With a flick of his wrist, he straightened his high collar.
"First," Lu Chen said, his voice as smooth as velvet, "we shall address the lack of decorum in this household. A lady of your standing should not be carrying her own lantern in the dark. It is simply not done."
"My standing?" Xiaowei let out a bitter, soft laugh. "My father is gone, and the Emperor has forgotten our name. I am lucky to have a roof at all."
Lu Chen walked toward her, his footsteps making no sound on the gravel. He gently took the heavy iron lantern from her hand. His fingers brushed hers; they were like marble, devoid of any warmth, yet his touch sent a strange spark through her veins.
"The world may forget," he whispered, leaning down so his face was inches from hers, "but I have an excellent memory. From this moment forth, you shall live as a Queen, and I shall be your sword."
He followed her inside the drafty house. As they entered the main hall, a floorboard creaked loudly. Lu Chen frowned, his golden-embroidered sleeves fluttering as he examined the room with a critical eye. He seemed out of place—a dark, beautiful jewel in a dusty wooden box.
"There is a scent of iron and rot in the air," Lu Chen noted, his nostrils flaring slightly. "Bandits?"
Xiaowei's heart skipped a beat. "How did you know? A group of men from the Black Tiger Mountain came yesterday. They demanded I hand over my father's old war maps. They said they would return tonight to... to take the house by force."
Lu Chen's eyes flickered red for a split second, a flash of crimson lightning in the shadows. "How dreadfully common. To threaten a lady is a sign of a truly peasant soul."
Suddenly, a loud crash erupted from the front gate. The sound of heavy boots and coarse laughter filled the courtyard.
"Little Lin! Open the door!" a rough voice shouted. "We've come for the maps and our prize!"
Xiaowei turned pale, her hands trembling. "They are here. Lu Chen, you must hide! You are still injured, and there are twenty of them!"
Lu Chen did not move. Instead, he reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His expression was calm, almost bored.
"Hide? My dear Mistress, a butler does not hide. He cleans."
He turned toward the door as it was kicked open. The bandit leader, a massive man with a scarred face, stepped inside, brandishing a rusty blade. He stopped dead when he saw the tall, pale man standing next to Xiaowei.
"Who are you? Some scholar lover?" the bandit mocked, pointing his sword at Lu Chen's throat.
Lu Chen didn't flinch. He looked at the sword as if it were a piece of rubbish. "Your blade is dirty. Your breath is offensive. And you have failed to knock."
Before the bandit could react, Lu Chen moved. He was a blur of black silk. There was a sickening crack, and the bandit's sword was snapped in half like a dry twig. Lu Chen's hand was suddenly around the man's throat, lifting the giant off the floor with a single arm.
"It is rude to interrupt a lady's evening," Lu Chen said, his voice dropping to a deadly, icy whisper. "Allow me to show you the exit."
With a casual toss, he threw the man through the air. The bandit crashed into his companions outside, sending them tumbling like pins.
Lu Chen stepped out onto the porch, the moonlight catching the silver embroidery of his robes. He looked down at the terrified men with a cold, predatory hunger.
"Run," he commanded. "Before I forget my manners and feast."
The bandits did not need to be told twice. They scrambled over each other, screaming about demons and ghosts as they fled into the dark woods.
Lu Chen turned back to Xiaowei, the terrifying aura vanishing instantly. He bowed again, his face once more the picture of a perfect, loyal servant.
"The trash has been removed, Mistress. Now, shall we see about making you some tea? I believe I saw some dried jasmine in the kitchen."
Xiaowei stared at him, her heart racing—not from fear, but from a strange, new wonder. "Who... what are you really, Lu Chen?"
"I am your butler," he replied simply, a soft, dangerous light in his eyes. "And I shall be the last thing your enemies ever see".