The blade hummed with vibration, and Dai Li's nerves trembled like a tightly drawn bowstring.
The curtain separating the inner and outer rooms was broken, leaving the space unobstructed, but she stood by the window on the opposite side, so she remained out of sight of the man in the outer chamber.
He could enter at any moment. Without hesitation, Dai Li slipped into the role of a servant: "Forgive my intrusion, my lord. I am no trespasser—I was sent by the master of the house to tidy the bedchamber. I lost track of time and overstayed. There are still unfinished tasks inside. Please grant me a moment longer."
Unseen by her, the man in the outer room slowly arched a brow at her first words.
Her voice was pleasant—unusually so. It carried a natural, soothing gentleness, like warm water or a spring breeze. Though strained with tension, it was undeniably captivating.
Qin Shaozong stepped into the inner chamber without a word.
It was midday, and the sun blazed fiercely outside. The woman stood with her back to him, clad in a short top and long skirt. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting its glow on her nearly bare arms, revealing skin as pale as fresh cream—so white it nearly dazzled the eyes.
Her hands pressed against the windowsill, elbows slightly bent, as if she were about to climb out.
Just as Dai Li prepared to leap, a surge of overwhelming danger crashed over her already taut nerves, sending an inexplicable chill down her spine.
In the next instant, a large, well-defined hand reached from behind and clamped onto her upper arm.
The grip was firm, the man’s fingers splaying before tightening, causing the soft flesh of her arm to swell slightly between his knuckles.
Dai Li’s pupils constricted sharply. The last thread of composure in her mind snapped with an almost audible ping, freezing her in place.
His rough palm burned like a brand, searing her skin and scorching away most of her rationality.
I’ve been caught…
In moments of extreme fear, words often fail. Dai Li’s throat felt stuffed with dry straw—every breath scraped painfully, and no excuse would come.
"Where were you planning to go?" The man’s deep voice gave nothing away.
Dai Li stood motionless, silent. The hand gripping her arm did not loosen.
When no answer came, Qin Shaozong turned her around with a firm twist.
Her skirt fluttered as their gazes met across the scant distance of less than an arm’s length. Both froze for a fleeting instant—one in sheer terror, the other in stunned admiration.
Dai Li stood at 168 centimeters, not short for a woman, but this man towered over her by nearly a head, easily 188 centimeters or more.
Clad in black robes, his hair bound high, he had a sharply defined face with deep-set eyes. A small break in his left eyebrow lent him a fiercer air than most.
Faint lines at the corners of his eyes spoke of years beyond reckless youth, yet time had not dulled him. Instead, it had honed his presence into something deep and inscrutable—like the ocean’s abyss. His amber-brown eyes, fixed unblinkingly on their target, held the predatory stillness of a stalking tiger.
The sheer height difference pressed down on Dai Li’s chest like a weight. He loomed like a colossal tower, his shadow swallowing her whole.
She recognized his voice. Earlier, someone outside had fawned, addressing him as "Lord Marquis," before he replied.
Of all people, I had to run into their leader. How do I talk my way out of this?
From Qin Shaozong’s perspective, this strangely dressed woman was nothing short of a surprise. She possessed striking peach-blossom eyes—dark as ink, whites pure as fresh snow—with a pronounced crease along the upper lid, forming a delicate pink fold.
Modern women’s short-sleeved tops often featured fitted waists, and Dai Li’s was no exception. The collar dipped into a small V, revealing a crescent of collarbone.
The snug garment outlined her figure clearly—curves lush and graceful, neither too slender nor too full. Her damp skirt clung slightly, droplets occasionally gathering at the hem before falling onto her shoes, which were little more than interlaced green straps and leather.
Her toenails were painted a vivid red, like blooming plum blossoms against snow. Noticing his gaze, her pale feet shifted back slightly, as if trying to hide in the shadow of her skirt.
The moment stretched, each second elongating as if time itself had slowed. All surrounding sounds seemed to fade away.
The man’s scrutiny swept over her from head to toe. Dai Li felt his gaze was peculiar—intensely invasive, as if it had sharpened into a blade, and she were meat laid bare on a cutting board.
His grip on her arm remained unyielding—rough, scorching, impossible to ignore. A man of his martial build could likely snap her neck with one hand.
Dai Li dared not move, rigid as stone.
How do I explain my "bizarre" attire and my presence in a guest’s chamber with soiled clothes?
If I’m mistaken for an assassin or spy and dragged off for interrogation, how do I justify my origins?
Zhou Zhou is waiting for me. I can’t die here.
Before she could devise a plan, a sharp tug at her hair sent pain shooting through her scalp—the kerchief pinned with a clip was yanked away.
Qin Shaozong had assumed she wore the covering to downplay her striking eyes. He hadn’t expected much when pulling it aside, merely acting on curiosity.
The reveal, however, caught him off guard.
A straight, delicate nose. Lips red without rouge. Against flawless skin, her features were like a masterfully painted portrait—vibrant, breathtaking. Unlike the youthful charm of girls in their teens or twenties, she was a peony in full bloom: opulent, mature, stunning. There was a languid grace about her, as if such beauty were second nature.
Yet perfection bore a flaw. Qin Shaozong suddenly raised his hand.
Dai Li recoiled instinctively, her back meeting the cold edge of the windowsill—nowhere left to retreat. Trapped between the unyielding sill and the imposing man, she was caged in a tiny space.
When his hand neared her neck, she flinched. But instead of the expected lethal twist, his calloused thumb brushed over her forehead, wiping away the dirt that had smudged her face.
Cleansed, the woman’s features gleamed—and at the center of her brow sat a vermilion beauty mark.
If before she had been a dazzling peony atop a golden pedestal, that crimson dot elevated her further, adding an untouchable, icy allure.
Qin Shaozong’s eyes narrowed slowly.
The friction against her forehead was rough. Dai Li’s nape prickled with goosebumps. His touch burned, yet she felt as though she’d been plunged into an icehouse.
Meeting his gaze, she recognized something in those dark, swirling depths—something not entirely unfamiliar. And with a jolt, she realized:
I misjudged this from the start.
Perhaps due to this era’s disregard for women, or his own confidence in his strength, he hadn’t categorized her as an assassin or spy.
No—that look in his eyes wasn’t suspicion toward an enemy.
It was the gaze of a man appraising a woman.
Dai Li had never been subjected to such an intense, devouring stare—one that seemed intent on consuming her whole.
Back in her school days, the boys had been fervent yet innocent—whenever she caught them staring, they'd shyly avert their eyes. Later, at work, the men in her professional circle were refined and well-educated, their admiration always restrained and polite.
Qin Shaozong hooked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, his fingers deliberately grazing the soft curve of her earlobe. "Just took a tumble in the pond?"
Dai Li struggled to articulate the whirlwind of emotions that surged within her—like a sliver of sunlight piercing through storm-heavy clouds, or an island rising beneath her feet to lift her from the abyss after a tsunami.
She had thought of a plan, a lifeline to escape unscathed—for now.
Lowering her lashes to avoid the intensity of his brown eyes, Dai Li murmured, "Word of your esteemed presence spread through the manor. Everyone wished to serve you, so... a minor disagreement arose today. This humble one had no choice but to dirty your honored quarters. I beg your forgiveness."
Qin Shaozong towered over her. As the woman before him bowed her head, her ink-black hair cascaded like water over one shoulder, revealing a sliver of pale neck.
Utterly submissive. Utterly controllable.
Instead of withdrawing his hand, he let it slide from her ear down to the nape of her neck, measuring, caressing—like soothing a skittish animal. "If you don’t get along with them, you needn’t return."
A shiver ran through Dai Li—this time, unfeigned. The weight of his palm against her neck felt like a shackle. Had she not kept her head down, the panic on her face would have been unmistakable.
She dug her nails into her palm, steadying herself before timidly meeting his gaze. "But... this humble one overheard you say you dislike having attendants nearby."
A soft chuckle escaped him—whether at her transparent ploy or her supposed naivety, she couldn’t tell.
"Exceptions exist," Qin Shaozong said, withdrawing his hand. His thumb brushed against his fingertips, as if savoring the lingering warmth of her skin. "Your name?"
"Feng Chun," Dai Li lied.
Slaves had no registered names; masters bestowed them as they pleased. She was certain he wouldn’t question it.
His gaze swept over her once more, a brow quirking slightly. "Feng Chun—'meeting spring.' A fortunate name. Wait in the main chamber. You’ll serve me later."
They were adults. In this context, Dai Li knew exactly what "serve" entailed.
"Thank you for your favor. This humble one will strive to please you tonight." Her smile was radiant, brightening the room like spring sunshine—though it faded quickly. "My robes are soiled. May I change and freshen up before returning?"
"Granted."
The weight in her chest lifted. She didn’t hide her relief, her eyes crinkling with genuine delight, coldness melting into dazzling allure.
Qin Shaozong watched her a beat longer.
With permission secured, Dai Li hurried toward the door. As she passed him, the delicate scent of freesia wafted in her wake.
The damp hem of her skirt brushed lightly against his black boots, leaving a faint droplet behind.
Just as she stepped beyond the threshold, his voice halted her.
"Stop."
Dai Li froze. Her heart, barely settled, leapt back into her throat. Sweat slicked her palms.
Had he caught her lie? Changed his mind? Or had she slipped up somewhere...?
