Mei Wuchang ordered a pot of tea and a plate of pastries.
Jiu Yue didn’t stand on ceremony either. After trying two pieces, she found the taste quite delightful—there was an indescribable feeling to it… Could it be the taste of home?
“What’s this called?” she asked with great appetite, picking up a third piece.
Mei Wuchang pushed the plate toward her and raised a brow slightly. “Seems your taste hasn’t changed. These are Mandarin Duck Pastries. You used to love them.”
Jiu Yue was surprised. She took a bite and nodded solemnly. “But they really are delicious. Try one.”
Mei Wuchang declined politely. “You used to buy them for me all the time. I nearly got sick of them.”
Jiu Yue: “…”
Fine then.
Jiu Yue didn’t press further. She happily munched on the pastries while Mei Wuchang leisurely sipped his tea across from her. Every now and then, the two would exchange comments about the storyteller’s tale.
No one would ever guess that these two lively young people were, in truth, cold-blooded assassins.
Before the pot of tea was finished, the storyteller below began packing up.
Mei Wuchang frowned. “Why’s he closing so early today? I remember he used to go on until late afternoon.”
Jiu Yue brushed the pastry crumbs off her clothes and shrugged. “No idea.”
Mei Wuchang felt a pang of regret.
It was rare to steal a moment of leisure like this.
But Jiu Yue tugged him to his feet. “The story’s over, and we’ve had enough tea. Let’s go for a walk.”
Not one to waste, Mei Wuchang quickly downed the last sip of tea and stumbled after her. He instinctively reached for his money pouch, only to find Jiu Yue had already settled the bill with practiced ease.
“I said it’s my treat. Why are you paying?” Jiu Yue couldn’t help but laugh.
Mei Wuchang stared at her for a moment, visibly shocked. “You actually kept your word!”
Jiu Yue: “…”
She shot him a disdainful look. “In our line of work, keeping promises is kind of important, you know?”
Mei Wuchang’s gaze held something unexpected.
“What?” Jiu Yue eyed him suspiciously.
“Nothing. Just remembered you said the same thing when you beat me up back then.” Mei Wuchang shrank back slightly, looking a little intimidated.
Jiu Yue’s lips twitched. Ignoring him, she dragged him around for a stroll before leading him into a jewelry shop.
The shop was filled with women. Mei Wuchang glanced inside but didn’t enter.
“I’ll wait here. You go ahead,” he said, then hesitated before adding, “You won’t run off, will you?”
“Where would I even go?” Jiu Yue rolled her eyes. After studying him for a moment, she asked, “You sure you don’t want to come in?”
Mei Wuchang shook his head and repeated firmly, “Keep your word.”
Jiu Yue: “…”
“Fine, fine.” She didn’t push further and turned to enter the shop alone.
Inside, she browsed the displays—mostly silver and gemstone hairpins. When she inquired about gold pieces, the shop assistant eagerly escorted her upstairs.
Right at the top of the stairs stood a wall of masks.
Jiu Yue’s gaze swept over them before settling on one in particular. Smiling, she turned to the assistant. “I’ll just look at the masks. You can go.”
To reassure him, she casually flashed her money pouch, stuffed with gold leaves.
The assistant beamed and gestured for her to take her time before leaving.
Jiu Yue raised a brow and sauntered over to the mask wall. She plucked one off and tried it on, tilting her head as if admiring it before speaking under her breath. “Took me long enough to find you. A jewelry shop, really?”
The mask beside hers blinked. A voice, gritted through teeth, replied, “You’re one to talk. What’s with the tail?”
“Not my choice,” Jiu Yue sighed. “Prince Ping still doesn’t trust me. This guy’s here to keep an eye on me. If I tried shaking him off, wouldn’t that look suspicious?”
Given her circumstances—having just returned to Prince Ping’s Mansion—it would be odd to reject a colleague’s company.
Ditching Mei Wuchang would only raise Prince Ping’s suspicions.
After a pause, Nan Xun’s resigned sigh came from behind the masks. “You’ve got nerve, meeting me with a watchdog in tow.”
Truthfully, Jiu Yue’s sudden visit to the teahouse today was just to let Nan Xun know she was still alive.
But during the storytelling, she’d picked up on hidden cues. Though unsure, she’d followed the trail Nan Xun left, leading her here.
“Enough chitchat. Make it quick,” Jiu Yue urged. “What’s the matter?”
Both spoke in hushed tones. With other customers browsing gold pieces nearby, Jiu Yue kept up the act, trying on masks as they talked.
Nan Xun cut to the chase. “I looked into it. That warrant for your arrest—it wasn’t Prince Ping’s doing.”
Jiu Yue: “…”
Her expression turned odd. After a beat, she plucked another mask off the wall, unsurprised. “Sima Qing issued it, didn’t he?”
After all, the original owner of this body had stabbed Sima Qing quite thoroughly.
Nan Xun paused. “You knew?”
Jiu Yue nodded briefly, summarizing her deductions.
Nan Xun: “…”
Finally, he asked earnestly, “You don’t think I sent you to Sima Qing to die, do you?”
He had, after all, been the one to suggest she seek work under Sima Qing.
“Not your fault,” Jiu Yue waved it off. “I’d better go.”
Nan Xun seemed to want to say more but only muttered, “With Prince Ping back in the capital, things won’t stay peaceful. Be careful.”
Jiu Yue nodded and turned to leave. But halfway down the stairs, she paused and glanced back.
Nan Xun was already gone. Her eyes trailed over the masks before lingering on a silver one.
...
Mei Wuchang waited outside for nearly a quarter of an hour. He peeked into the shop occasionally but saw no sign of Jiu Yue—only drawing curious glances from the women inside.
Under their scrutiny, he ducked his head, letting his hair fall over the scar on his left cheek.
The heat outside had beads of sweat forming on his forehead. As he adjusted his hair, light footsteps approached from behind.
Before he could turn, a hand landed on his shoulder.
“Let’s go. Nothing much in there.” Jiu Yue slipped past him and tossed two masks into his arms. “These are for you. Consider it payment for today’s escort duty.”
Mei Wuchang froze, staring at the masks, momentarily speechless.
Jiu Yue took a few steps before noticing he hadn’t moved. She tilted her head. “Don’t like the style? I thought they’d go with anything.”
“It’s not that…” Mei Wuchang struggled for words before swallowing them back.
“I’ll try them later,” he murmured, lips curving into an uncharacteristically shy smile. “Thanks.”
"It's nothing," Jiu Yue said purely out of professional camaraderie.
Her only enemy was Prince Ping; Mei Wuchang was merely working under him.
Only those who toil understand the hardships of labor.
And among them, assassins were the most extreme.
If they found themselves on opposing sides, it was common for comrades to share drinks in the morning and draw blades against each other by afternoon.
Utterly ruthless.
With a sigh in her heart, Jiu Yue turned back to Mei Wuchang, enthusiastically pulling her toward Prince Ping's Mansion. "Let’s go back and try on the masks. If they don’t fit, we can adjust them ourselves..."
Imperial Garden.
Prince Ping’s patience was wearing thin.
"Xue'er, I’m your father," he said with a smile, though his eyes remained cold as he inched closer to the little girl hiding behind the rockery. "You heartless child, has it been so long that you’ve forgotten me?"
Xue'er still refused to come out.
Prince Ping pressed his lips together and stepped forward.
But a hand pulled him back.
"Your Highness, don’t take it out on the child," Consort Xue sighed softly, her voice gentle as she persuaded him. "Xue'er is timid. If Your Highness shows even the slightest anger, you appear less approachable, and naturally, she won’t want to come near you."
Prince Ping lowered his gaze to where her hand rested on his arm, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"I appreciate your grace in tolerating this," he feigned distress, turning to face her. "But if she rejects me so thoroughly, I can hardly force her to return with me..."
Consort Xue’s pupils shrank abruptly, her expression one of horror as she stared at Prince Ping.
Had he lost his mind?! How dare he touch her!
This was the imperial palace! She was the Emperor’s consort!
"Your Highness could explain the situation to His Majesty. Given His Majesty’s benevolence, I’m sure he would allow Xue'er to remain in my palace a while longer..." Consort Xue maintained her smile, though she strained with all her might to wrench her hand free from Prince Ping’s grip.
The moment she broke free, she immediately retreated two steps, putting a firm distance between them.
With palace servants watching nearby, Consort Xue steadied herself and smiled with perfect decorum. "It’s getting late, and Xue'er must be tired. If Your Highness has no further business, I shall take my leave."
Prince Ping gave her a reluctant glance before finally stepping aside.
As they passed each other, Consort Xue heard him whisper, "Yingxue, I won’t make you wait much longer."
She shut her eyes briefly.
Though it was midsummer, she felt as though she had plunged into an icy abyss.
"Your Grace, Prince Ping has never forgotten you," a maid beside her murmured with secret delight.
Consort Xue whipped her head around, glaring coldly before snapping, "Nonsense. Guards—drag her away. I never wish to see her again."
The maid’s face paled. "Your Grace, I serve Prince—mmph—!"
Another servant swiftly covered her mouth, and a eunuch nearby acted just as quickly, hauling her away until she vanished from the garden.
Consort Xue exhaled heavily, pressing a hand to her chest—her heart pounded like thunder beneath her palm.
"Leng Ying..." She closed her eyes, steadying herself before speaking again. "Take the little princess. We’re returning to the palace."
The maid who had moved so deftly earlier responded with a quiet "Yes," then turned to retrieve Xue'er, who had fallen asleep curled up behind the rockery.
But they had barely taken a few steps when a eunuch hurried over, his smile obsequious.
"Your Grace, the imperial kitchen has prepared some new delicacies to beat the heat. His Majesty invites you to join him for a taste."
Consort Xue’s lashes flickered, but she mustered a smile and turned to Leng Ying. "Then you take the little princess back first."
...
Imperial Study.
When Consort Xue entered, the Emperor was reviewing memorials.
"Greetings, Your Majesty," she said softly, performing a graceful bow, though her smile was strained.
Hearing her, the Emperor looked up, his gaze sweeping over her face before he rose and approached her. "You seem unwell," he remarked with concern.
"Thank you for Your Majesty’s concern. I was merely in the garden earlier and felt a bit faint from the sun. It’s nothing serious," Consort Xue replied, keeping her head lowered.
"The Imperial Garden..." The Emperor chuckled lowly. "You saw Prince Ping just now, didn’t you?"
