Chapter Three: The Assassin’s Probe

The next morning, sunlight bathed the world outside, but when Weishao Qianyu opened her window, not a single ray found its way in. Was Qinglan Courtyard the cold palace of the Prince of War’s residence?

Seated before her vanity, she allowed Qingxia to fuss with her hair. “No need for an elaborate coiffure. I’m not leaving the residence today—something simple will do…”

Qingxia, well aware of her mistress’s casual ways, watched the secret guards moving dowries into the courtyard, puzzled. “Miss, why bring all your dowry indoors?”

Weishao Qianyu glanced over at the guards who had watched over her courtyard all night, clearly satisfied. “This Qinglan Courtyard—its main hall barely holds my dowry. We need to find another place to live!”

From that moment, what had once been half a cold palace became Weishao Qianyu’s storeroom.

After arranging her appearance and donning a veil, Weishao Qianyu headed to Listening Wind Pavilion, where Feng Jinye had already waited half an hour.

At a single glance, she could see Feng Jinye’s displeasure but ignored it, sitting beside him and picking up her chopsticks to begin breakfast. “You waited for me to eat?”

Feng Jinye lifted his gaze to meet hers, but quickly looked away, feigning calm. “Say what you must.”

He cared nothing for the Princess of War’s name, but he could not banish the memory of her eyes as she fanned herself last night—compelling and yet repellent, unwilling to look but unable to look away. The feeling was too complicated; he desperately needed answers.

A pang of sourness struck Weishao Qianyu’s heart as his gaze no longer lingered on her, but the melancholy lasted only a moment. With renewed composure, she spoke. “Weishao Qianyu.”

Feng Jinye hadn’t forgotten—last night, in the same tone, she’d claimed to be Lu Qianyu, the legitimate daughter of the State Duke’s family.

Avoiding her eyes, Feng Jinye’s emotions faded, and he tapped the table lightly with his forefinger. “Your father’s name?”

Silent, Weishao Qianyu said nothing. Feng Jinye was unaware that this was a pain she could not voice—she had no father.

The oppressive air around her made Feng Jinye’s brows knit, but in the next moment, Weishao Qianyu gathered herself and said firmly, “Weishao Zhantian!”

She was Weishao Zhantian’s daughter—a member of the Weishao family. This was undeniable and must never be denied.

There was no concealing the sorrow in her eyes. An uneasy silence fell, broken only by Weishao Qianyu sipping her porridge.

Feng Jinye picked up his chopsticks, then set them down again and rose. At this, Chujiu summoned a maid to bring a brocade cloth for handwashing.

Feng Jinye’s keen hearing picked up Chujiu’s call and he sat back down, lifting his teacup. Weishao Qianyu glanced at his tea, then watched the maid approach, uninterested, and continued with her meal.

As the maid drew near, Feng Jinye set his cup aside. The maid halted in front of them, whisked off the brocade towel, and a dagger flashed in her hand. Watching the scene, Weishao Qianyu thought, “So the dagger is revealed before the person even closes the distance—how clumsy.”

The assassin advanced, but Feng Jinye didn’t so much as flinch.

Weishao Qianyu shot him a furious glare, picked up her spoon, and slammed it down with a crisp crack—the warm jade spoon shattered on the table.

The assassin was nearly upon them. In a flash, Weishao Qianyu turned, drew Cangyuan from the rosewood stand, and with one leap, closed the distance. One stroke, and the maid’s life ended.

Without looking back, her fury blazing, Weishao Qianyu took a deep breath and strode for the door. Just as she was about to step out of the courtyard, she stopped, turned, and with sword in hand, pointed Cangyuan straight at Feng Jinye’s chest.

Her eyes burned with anger as the sword tip halted three inches from his chest. Suddenly, with a thud, Cangyuan dropped at his feet, and she turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her.

That single sword stroke had pinned Feng Jinye in place. Even after she left, he didn’t move—now he understood why those eyes seemed so familiar. It was her!

Qingxia hurried after Weishao Qianyu.

Chujiu stood stunned, staring at the blood-stained Cangyuan at their master’s feet, the assassin’s blood clearly marking the Prince’s boots. He thought, “The Princess must have no regard for her own life!”

Weishao Qianyu exited Feng Jinye’s quarters, her anger unyielding as she made her way toward Zhiyu Tower, Qingxia trailing silently behind.

Once there, Qingxia poured tea and tried to soothe her. “Miss, don’t be upset. Please, have some tea to calm your nerves.”

Weishao Qianyu looked at the Rainflower tea Qingxia handed her, recalling Feng Jinye’s Lushan Cloud Mist from earlier, sighed, and drank.

When she’d finished, Qingxia poured another cup and ventured, “Miss, why are you so angry? I’ve never seen you like this before…”

Her words rekindled the fire in Weishao Qianyu’s heart. “Feng Jinye was testing me on purpose. Last night in Qinglan Courtyard, the secret guards surely reported everything we said and did. That assassin just now was so clumsy—he must’ve been discovered early. Feng Jinye let the assassin in just to test me. Fine, let him test me. But if I hadn’t acted and the assassin had gotten closer, what if she’d thrown a hidden weapon or used poison? Who would I turn to then?”

“Enough, my good lady, don’t be angry. Please, have another cup of tea and calm down.” Qingxia, never having seen anyone provoke her mistress so, did her best to comfort her.

Still brooding, Weishao Qianyu told her, “Go see if Banqiu has returned yet. I want to be alone.”

After Qingxia left, Weishao Qianyu sat in silence, sorting through her thoughts. That sword move just now had been one Feng Jinye taught her long ago—he must have recognized it. Had he remembered anything?

She had been angry after killing the assassin and intended to leave, but with the sword in hand, she decided to provoke him a little further—and so turned and struck.

Back at Listening Wind Pavilion, Chujiu had already ordered the assassin’s corpse cleared away and the blood cleaned, though no one dared approach the area around the Prince’s boots.

Summoning his courage, Chujiu edged over, bent down, and carefully retrieved Cangyuan, handing it to a waiting servant.

Feng Jinye glanced at Chujiu but said nothing, lowering his eyes to inspect the blood on his robe and boots before speaking quietly. “Ye Shiyi.”

Ye Shiyi appeared, took his orders to investigate the assassin, and secretly resented Weishao Qianyu for her ruthlessness—why not leave one alive?

Feng Jinye had expected her to act, but not that she would seize his Cangyuan, nor that she would turn her sword on him. Most unexpected of all was her anger toward him.

And yet, the most unforgivable thing she’d done was to stain his robe and boots with filthy blood.

At this moment, Feng Jinye did not realize: in all that Weishao Qianyu had done, there was nothing truly unforgivable.