When Lu Qianyi arrived at the guest room, the Murong maid who had guided her bowed lightly before stepping aside to open the wooden door with care. The room was spacious and warmly lit, its decor elegant but not excessive—solid darkwood furniture, a tall folding screen painted with cranes in flight, and a delicate aroma of chamomile lingering in the air.

  The Murong maid turned with a gentle smile. “Miss Lu, the bath has been prepared. Would you like to refresh yourself? If you require assistance, I am happy to help.”

  Lu Qianyi, still wrapped in her travel dust and tangled thoughts, managed a nod. “Yes, please. I would appreciate the help.”

  “This way, miss.”

  The maid led her through a sliding door into a smaller chamber behind the bedroom—a private bathing room, with warm lanterns nestled into the walls. Steam drifted lazily from the surface of the water within the tub, which had been carved from smooth black stone, its edges framed by polished wood. The scent of sandalwood and fresh herbs filled the room, calming the senses.

  A lacquered stool sat near the tub with towels, a jade comb, and fragrant soap prepared. Lu Qianyi allowed her outer robes to be carefully undone with the maid’s help, then wrapped herself in a bath cloth and stepped into the tub slowly, her slender fingers brushing the surface before she fully immersed herself in the warm embrace of the water.

  She let out a soft sigh. “This estate has better hospitality than many estates I’ve visit.”

  The maid chuckled softly and began to hum a soothing tune as she prepared fresh towels. The simple melody floated through the steam like drifting petals.

  Lu Qianyi’s eyes remained half-closed, her head resting on the edge of the tub. After a pause, her voice broke the calm.

  “That Zhao Ming… what kind of man is he to the people here?”

  The maid paused her humming, surprised by the question. She smiled to herself as she wrung out a towel. “Young Master Zhao? He’s… well-respected. Most of the servants admire him—especially after what he did for the refugees at the eastern settlement. When the governor hesitated to act, Young Master Zhao took charge.”

  Lu Qianyi opened her eyes, listening silently.

  The maid continued, her tone warming. “He brought food, organized shelter, even mediated between merchant guilds and local guards. My cousin’s husband was one of the guards. He said Master Zhao doesn’t command like a nobleman—he listens first. That’s rare.”

  “…I see,” Lu Qianyi murmured.

  In truth, she hadn’t meant to ask. The words had slipped out before she could stop them, as if her heart had been pondering Zhao Ming far longer than her mind wanted to admit.

  Once her bath was done, Lu Qianyi rose from the tub, the maid quickly draping a warm towel over her shoulders. After drying off and slipping into a long-sleeved silk sleep robe embroidered with plum blossoms, she returned to the bedroom. The fire in the brazier had been stoked, and her personal maid, who had finished her own light wash and changed into sleeping attire, was waiting with a drying cloth in hand.

  “Come, let me do your hair, my lady,” the maid said with a grin.

  Lu Qianyi sat on a stool by the dressing table as her maid gently toweled her hair, the rhythmic strokes quieting the evening air. The brush moved with practiced care through her long, damp strands.

  Her maid glanced at her through the mirror’s reflection. “My lady… why did you choose to stay here tonight? With him?”

  Lu Qianyi was silent for a moment before replying, her voice soft. “I’m not entirely sure. But when I look at him… I feel like I can rely on him. That he won’t waver even when things fall apart.”

  The maid gave a knowing smile. “Mmm. Sounds like someone’s fallen for her knight in scholar’s robes.”

  Lu Qianyi’s eyes widened slightly, then she looked away, pink blooming in her cheeks. “That’s not what I meant…”

  “Oh, of course not,” the maid said with a teasing laugh. “You’re just trusting a man with your safety in a foreign estate, while blushing at the mere mention of him. Nothing romantic about that at all.”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  “I—! You—!” Lu Qianyi covered her face with her sleeves, her expression flustered. “Stop saying such things…”

  The maid giggled, clearly enjoying her lady’s rare show of vulnerability. “If the great Miss Lu can fall for a man, then there’s hope for the rest of us girls, too.”

  After a few more moments of playful teasing, Lu Qianyi gave her maid a tired look. “Enough. I want to sleep.”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” The maid stood and fetched a small ceramic bowl from a nearby shelf. With delicate movements, she placed incense powder into the bronze censer near the bedside and lit it. A gentle plume of smoke began to rise, its scent sweet and soothing—jasmine and agarwood mixed with a trace of lavender.

  “I’ll be in the next room if you need anything, my lady.”

  Lu Qianyi nodded as she slid beneath the covers, the warmth of the quilt settling over her. “Thank you.”

  The maid bowed, then exited quietly to the side room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

  The flickering candlelight danced across the ceiling. Lu Qianyi stared at it for a moment longer before closing her eyes. Her thoughts drifted not to her father, nor to Luoyang—but to a young man who smiled easily and spoke calmly, who looked at her not like a noblewoman, but like a person.

  She didn’t know what that meant yet. But tonight, at least, she felt safe.

  And slowly, carried by incense and memory, sleep embraced her.

  The study room of Governor Kong Rong was a haven of order amidst the growing chaos of Beihai. Shelves of bamboo scrolls and bound tomes lined the walls, each meticulously organized. Incense curled from a bronze dragon-shaped burner on his desk, mingling with the faint scent of ink and old parchment. The room was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows that danced along the patterned lattice windows.

  Governor Kong sat at his writing desk, his robes neatly arranged and his ink brush set aside after a long evening of drafting diplomatic letters. His expression was calm—composed, even—but behind his scholarly demeanor, thoughts moved with the precision of a seasoned strategist.

  A quiet knock came from outside.

  “Enter,” Kong Rong said without looking up.

  The door slid open, and Aide Chen stepped inside with a respectful bow. He was a thin man with sharp features and a precise manner, much like the governor he served.

  “My lord,” he said, holding a small wooden scroll case, “A message from Murong Estate. Miss Lu Qianyi will be staying overnight due to the curfew.”

  Kong Rong accepted the message with a slight nod, not bothering to unseal it. “I see… That child always had a willful streak.”

  Aide Chen bowed again. “Shall I have the night guard alerted for your quarters, my lord?”

  Kong Rong waved a hand gently. “No need. I will remain in the study tonight. Bring me another pot of green tea.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  As the aide retreated, Kong Rong leaned back slightly, turning his gaze to the side of the desk, where two folded letters lay, still open—both sealed with the insignias of power.

  One bore the delicate brushwork of the eunuch faction, carefully worded and full of hidden traps. The other, a more direct appeal from the Empress’s camp, with He Jin’s seal—a bold promise of alliance and reform, should Kong Rong lend his support.

  To an outsider, Kong Rong was the image of Confucian virtue: a scholar-governor who upheld loyalty and justice. But beneath that mask, he was no na?ve idealist. He understood the rot within the capital and the blades that hid behind poetic phrases. In a world ruled by force and favor, righteousness alone could not build a state—only cunning could survive it.

  His eyes narrowed as he tapped a finger lightly on the armrest of his chair.

  Lu Zhi. A man of principle. A rare one, even among scholars. But trapped in Luoyang, surrounded by wolves… and now he, Kong Rong, held the man’s daughter under his roof—temporarily. That opened possibilities.

  The two factions circling the court were both desperate. They both wanted Lu Zhi’s support, or at the very least, his silence. If he could use Lu Qianyi as leverage…

  His lips curled into a thin smile.

  And there was Zhao Feng. A wretched but influential noble from Langya, infamous for his indulgence and crude appetites. Word had it he’d taken a strong interest in Lu Qianyi during her last visit to the office—enough interest that an offer involving her might smooth over certain negotiations. A marriage alliance? Or something more… flexible.

  Kong Rong picked up a small jade ornament from his desk, rotating it between his fingers as he thought.

  He did not like this game. But to win against men like He Jin and the eunuchs, he had to play it better than they did.

  He reached for the brass bell beside him and rang it softly.

  A moment later, the door opened again. This time, it was Shen Yue, his personal bodyguard. A man of few words and fewer loyalties—except to Kong Rong himself.

  Clad in dark leathers with a short sword at his side, Shen Yue bowed silently.

  “Shen Yue,” Kong Rong said without turning, “I want you to keep watch over Miss Lu. Quietly. From this moment on, her movements are to be noted. If she attempts to leave the city—let me know.”

  Shen Yue gave a short nod. “Understood.”

  Kong Rong’s voice lowered, his eyes still on the flickering flame. “And if… negotiations require it, I may need her brought to me. Quietly. Without injury, of course. For now, only prepare. Do not act.”

  There was a beat of silence. Shen Yue’s gaze did not waver.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Good.” Kong Rong returned the jade ornament to its place and reached for the letter from the eunuchs once more. “The game at court is shifting. I intend to stand, not be swept away.”

  Shen Yue left without another word, and the governor was alone again in his study—alone with the scent of burning ink and the heavy weight of decisions yet to be made.

  Outside, the night deepened. Somewhere in the city, a bell tolled softly, marking the final hour before curfew. But within the walls of Kong Rong’s estate, plans were already being laid in silence.

  And Lu Qianyi, blissfully unaware, slept under a different roof—while shadows quietly reached for her.