Yan Rui slit the nearest guard's throat before the man could draw breath. The body crumpled soundlessly to the floor.
The others never had time to react. By the time the Prefectural Governor of Xiangyang realized he was no longer protected, it was already over. He collapsed to his knees in his heavy official robes, breath hitching, hands trembling as they pressed against the polished tiles now darkened with blood. Rui's true target.
Rui wiped his blade on a fallen tunic and returned it to its sheath, movements precise, unhurried. No marks left behind that could be traced to him. That mattered more than speed.
"Are you—are you the silver-masked judgement?" the governor stammered, bowing so low his forehead struck the floor. "Why have you come for me? Please—"
They always begged.
Rui no longer heard the words themselves—only the sound of fear unraveling. Assassination was the part of Optics Group's work he liked least, but the King's command was absolute. He withdrew a glass vial from his sleeve, snapped the wax seal, and forced the poison between the man's lips.
Snake venom.
Swift.
Clean.
Untraceable.
It would kill the governor within minutes and implicate a rival faction, exactly as His Majesty desired. Rui did not question the order. He was the King's shadow, operating beyond court, law, or consequence.
The governor barely had time to choke before his body sagged forward, eyes wide and empty. Rui watched until the last breath left him, then turned away.
By dawn, the murder would be discovered. The trail would lead where it was meant to. A spark would be struck for a coming purge.
Rui would not stay to see the fire.
Within hours, he was gone.
Fifteen days later, Yan Rui arrived in Qiyang disguised as a beggar: robes ragged, face smeared with dirt, hair unwashed and knotted like any traveler of the gutter. Blending into the dusty streets was essential. He needed to observe his betrothed. More importantly, to protect her.
Reports said she had nearly drowned. Rui did not believe in accidents. Someone had tried to kill her. And if they had—it was because she belonged to him.
Though they had never met, he had imagined her clearly: a noble daughter, raised on Confucian virtues, gentle, sheltered, obedient, waiting to fulfill a marriage of harmony and duty. He would fulfill his role—provide for her, secure a son, and allow her the peace of domestic life.
But then he saw her—recognized her from the portrait. Dressed as a boy. Slipping through the back gate in broad daylight.
###
Rui crouched motionless in the branches above, hidden by leaves as he watched her move through the streets. She wove between vendors with easy confidence—as though she had walked these roads a hundred times before.
Not the sheltered daughter he had been promised.
When she slipped into a narrow alley, Rui dropped silently from the tree and followed.
She stopped before an old woman wrapped in filthy rags.
Rui expected hesitation. Nervousness.
Instead, Rong Xi stood tall, her gaze steady. Sharp. Fierce.
The contradiction struck him—such defiance behind a face so delicate.
Have I misjudged her?
He edged closer, careful to remain hidden as she spoke.
The old woman's head lifted suddenly, sightless eyes turning toward the darkness.
"Who's there?"
"I've come… from far away," Rong Xi said.
A gnarled hand reached out.
After a brief pause, Rong Xi took it.
The woman's fingers traced her palm slowly. Deliberately.
Then she stilled.
"Your fate has changed," the old woman rasped. "New lines added."
Rong Xi's breath caught.
"What have you done?"
Rong Xi slipped a coin into the woman's hand.
"Can you help me get home?"
Silence fell over the alley.
The old woman weighed the coin in her palm.
Then she smiled faintly.
"You are where you're meant to be."
"And where is that?"
"Where you belong."
Rong Xi's voice sharpened.
"I'm not from here."
The old woman tilted her head slightly.
"You have to be."
"I want to go home."
The woman's cloudy eyes gleamed.
"You will."
A pause.
"Once you learn why you're here."
Rong Xi's frustration slipped through.
"I know why I'm here. But what do I need to do?"
The old woman released her hand.
"What was spoken has been spoken," she said quietly.
"Now comes the doing."
And just like that, her gaze drifted away—empty again.
As though nothing had happened.
Rui remained frozen in the shadows.
His mind caught on only one sentence.
Not the prophecy.
Not the changed fate.
But the words Rong Xi had spoken.
"Can you help me get home?"
Home?
This was her home.
So where exactly did she think she had come from?
Puzzled, Rui watched as she set the coin down and turned away, disappointment shadowing her features. She slipped into the crowd with practiced ease, each step confident—almost habitual.
Every report Rui had read said the same thing.Sheltered. Quiet. A daughter who rarely stepped beyond the manor walls.
So which was the lie?
Had she hidden her true nature all along?
Or had none of them ever truly seen her?
He needed to know.
Rui dropped silently to the gate just as she approached. When their eyes met, his breath caught.
Without hesitation, she reached into her robe and held out a coin.
A beggar's alms.
She thinks me a beggar.
His chest tightened—amusement, perhaps. Or something else he couldn't quite name.
Rui dipped his head and accepted the coin.
When he looked up again, her gaze had already drifted past him.
Not seeing him.
Not really.
Looking through the gate.
And there it was.
Ache.
The fire he had noticed earlier was still there—but now he saw something beneath it.
Sorrow.
Quiet. Deep. Lingering like an old wound.
It made her even more beautiful.
His heart stumbled.
Rui cleared his throat and lowered the ragged hat further over his face.
Then she was gone.
He stood in the street long after she disappeared, the coin warm in his palm.
What was that feeling?
He should return to the inn.
Shen was waiting.
But his body moved before his mind could argue.
Rui leapt onto the manor wall, then higher into the branches outside her chamber.
Below, her maid Malin hurried her inside.
Moments later, Rong Xi appeared again, draped in white.
Moonlight caught the fabric, making her look almost unreal—like a figure painted in ink and silk.
He watched as she entered the dining hall.
And he waited.
When she returned, she let out a long breath, as if the day had weighed heavily on her.
"What occupies her thoughts?" Rui murmured under his breath.
"Young Miss," Malin asked gently, "shall I bring midnight snacks?"
Rong Xi blinked, then smiled.
"Yes," she said. "Especially the almond cookies."
Rui felt his mouth curve faintly.
She likes almond cookies.
A small thing.
An insignificant thing.
And yet—
He closed his fist around the coin she had given him.
Shen and Leef waited on the branches beside him. They had been standing there far too long. Rui knew it.
Yet the only thought circling his mind was:
What else brings her joy?