Chapter 66: Warning (Part One)

Anran left the Prime Minister’s residence, circled around to buy a few things, then returned to the Lotus Breeze Pavilion. After checking Lu Xuexin’s pulse, she let Snowball play with her for a while before heading back to her own quarters with the fox.

At midnight, Moon City lay peaceful, the only sound the clear, crisp chirping of summer insects in the silent night. A thin, pale cloud drifted slowly across the sky, veiling the cold radiance of the full moon. Suddenly, more than a dozen figures sprang onto the rooftops, disappearing swiftly into the darkness.

Wanxia slipped quietly through the door. By the light of the night-pearl at the bedside, she could clearly see Anran’s sleeping form through the screen. A thin silk cover was draped casually over her, long hair spilling onto the step, her face tranquil, brows unknit, utterly defenseless.

Wanxia sighed softly. Only at times like this could she see her mistress so relaxed, with no bristling thorns, no guarded look in her eyes. At her age, she should live exactly like this.

“Wanxia, is something the matter?”

Anran kept her eyes closed, parted her lips slightly, and uttered the four words in a gentle tone.

By the time Wanxia collected herself, Anran was already up, had thrown on a thin robe, and poured herself a cup of tea.

Wanxia, a little flustered, hurried past the screen. “Miss, we’ve caught more than a dozen men in black who came to kill you!”

She wasn’t sure if those men were foolish as pigs or simply hopelessly inept. They had broken into the wrong room, boasting loudly about cutting off hands and feet, but in the end, she subdued them all without breaking a sweat.

She had immediately sent someone to fetch An Yue to watch over them. Once everything was in order, she dared come to report to Anran.

Anran merely responded with a soft hum, as if none of it concerned her, calmly sipping the soothing tea. Only then did she let Wanxia help her dress and fix her hair. Finally, she called for Snowball, and together with her fox, she went out to meet the would-be assassins.

The dozen or so men had all been immobilized by Wanxia’s needlework and had their jaws dislocated, unable to live or die. They knelt in the room, displaying stubborn defiance unto death.

An Yue had already extracted the poison hidden in their teeth. When he saw Anran enter, he greeted her respectfully, “Master.”

“An Yue, leave this to me. Go and get some rest.” An Yue was getting on in years and could no longer handle such commotion. Besides, what she was about to do was not something she wanted him to witness.

“Yes, Master.”

An Yue withdrew, carefully closing the door behind him.

Anran chose a seat and sat, gazing at the kneeling men. Their veils had been removed, all of them around thirty years old, with a tattoo resembling a totem on their left cheeks. Upon closer inspection, it was a wolf.

Assassins from the Dark Star Pavilion!

Anran returned to her seat, a cold smile curling at her lips. So this was all the famed Dark Star Pavilion amounted to? Trying to mimic wolves—social, loyal, united—wasn’t such ambition a little far-fetched given their skills?

“Let me guess who hired you,” Anran mused, exchanging a meaningful glance with Wanxia. She lowered her eyes, absentmindedly stroking Snowball’s fluffy head with one hand while tapping a rhythmic beat on the table with the other.

The soft tapping unnerved the men.

Wanxia fixed the jaw of one of them. As soon as he could speak, he spat out, “You can kill us, but you’ll never humiliate us! We’ll never tell you who sent us!”

Ah, a man of spirit—very good, truly admirable.

Anran lifted her gaze, her eyes filled with rare appreciation as she looked at him, and a faint smile played about her lips. “I’ve already guessed who it was—Prince Jing, Jun Yihong, am I right?”