Shen Ruyu had always imagined her wedding day would be quiet. Not grand. Not joyful. And certainly not watched by the entire capital like a caged spectacle. But nothing about her life had been quiet since the night her family was slaughtered.

The carriage stopped.

Outside, drums thundered through the air—slow, heavy beats that seemed to echo inside her bones. She lifted the red silk veil covering her face and peeked through the window slit. Rows of armored soldiers lined the streets, their silver spears gleaming under the winter sun. Their discipline was impeccable; not a single man broke formation.

Of course. They belonged to him. General Lu Zeyan. The empire’s coldest, youngest commander. A man whose name made seasoned warriors straighten their backs. A man rumored to have killed three warlords before his twenty-fifth year. A man who rarely smiled, never apologized, and certainly never loved. Yet today, he was taking a wife — Her. Shen Ruyu, the last surviving daughter of the disgraced Shen household.

She let the veil fall back down, breathing in slowly. "This marriage is the only path left for you, Ruyu". Her fingers clenched around the jade pendant in her lap. The only relic that remained of her mother.

The Shen family had once been respected scholars—quiet, loyal citizens who avoided politics. But that did not save them. One winter night, the estate burned, and every witness mysteriously disappeared. Officials claimed it was an accident. The people whispered it was a purge.

Ruyu knew the truth. Her family had been framed. And someone powerful wanted every Shen dead.

She should’ve died that night too. She did die—at least in the eyes of the empire. But fate had spared her. Or cursed her. She hadn’t decided which. The carriage jerked forward again.

Ruyu inhaled. Today’s event was not a wedding. It was a disguise. A mask for her revenge. A shield to survive long enough to uncover the truth. A marriage chosen not with her heart—no, that organ had been shattered long ago—but with cold calculation.

Lu Zeyan needed a bride for political reasons.

She needed a husband powerful enough to protect her identity. A contract marriage. She hid her sharpness beneath silk, her intelligence behind lowered lashes. The general believed she was timid, docile—perfectly harmless. Just as she intended.

The carriage door opened. Cold air swept inside.

“Madam,” a soldier said respectfully, “General Lu awaits.”

Her pulse quickened. Ruyu lifted her skirts and stepped down. Her embroidered shoes touched the stone path leading into the grand courtyard of the Lu estate. And then—she saw him. General Lu Zeyan stood beneath the ceremonial archway. Tall, commanding, dressed not in lavish wedding robes but in his formal military attire. Black armor. Silver pauldrons. A crimson cloak flowing behind him like blood on snow. His expression was unreadable. Carved from ice.Soldiers on both sides stiffened at her appearance.

Ruyu lowered her gaze demurely, but her heart pounded. She had seen the general from afar during imperial ceremonies, but up close, he was more intimidating. His presence swallowed the entire courtyard. A man born for battlefields, not brides. She reached him slowly, her steps light, almost hesitant.

A cold voice spoke above her. “Shen Ruyu.”

She lifted her head a fraction. His eyes—obsidian, sharp as unsheathed blades—locked onto hers through the thin veil. For a heartbeat, she forgot her practiced breathing. That gaze could dissect a man. Or a woman. Or a secret. Her palms grew slightly damp.

He didn’t help her up the steps. He didn’t offer his arm. He simply turned, cloak sweeping behind him, and said— “Follow.”

Not gentle. Not polite. But controlled, precise, and commanding. The soldiers didn’t react. This was normal for their general. Ruyu’s lips curled faintly under the veil.—"Good."

A man who kept others at a distance would not pry too deeply into hers. She followed him into the ceremonial hall. Servants scattered like frightened birds. Lanterns glowed against tall pillars. Everything looked grand but cold—just like the man she was marrying.

The wedding rites were brief.–

A bow to heaven.

A bow to ancestors.

A bow to each other.

Lu Zeyan’s movements were efficient, almost indifferent. Her hand brushed his only once, and even through her sleeve, she felt the warmth of his skin—unexpected for a man with such ice in his veins.The moment passed quickly.

Before she could steady her thoughts, the officiant announced: “The marriage is complete.”

Applause echoed through the hall. Ruyu lowered her eyes as the servants approached to escort her to the bridal chamber. But just as she took a step, a gloved hand caught her wrist.Not harsh. Not gentle. Just firm enough to halt her. She froze.

General Lu Zeyan stood close, his broad frame blocking out the lantern light. The soldiers pretended not to see.

His voice dropped, soft but cold enough to slice marble.“Whatever you’re running from,” he said, “the Lu estate is not a place for hiding secrets.”

Her heartbeat stuttered. So he knows… something.

She forced her voice to tremble. “G-General Lu… I—I only wish to be a proper wife.”

His eyes flicked down to her shaking fingers.When he spoke again, it was almost a whisper. “Proper wives don’t lie.”

Her breath caught. He released her wrist as if nothing had happened.–“Go.”

Ruyu lowered her veil again and obeyed. But behind her modest steps, her mind raced. How much does he know? Did he suspect her identity?

Did he sense she wasn’t the meek little bride everyone believed she was? No. Impossible.

She had acted flawlessly these past weeks.

And Lu Zeyan… he was distant, uninterested in domestic affairs. He had no reason to investigate her. Her pulse steadied. As she entered the bridal chamber, Ruyu reminded herself— A single sentence cannot shake your resolve. Focus, Ruyu. You came here for revenge, not romance.

The chamber door closed behind her. Servants left, whispering excitedly. She walked toward the mirror. The room was beautiful—red silk drapes, phoenix embroidery, candles flickering like small, dancing stars. Yet there was a faint coldness beneath everything, as if no warmth could survive in General Lu’s house.

Ruyu lifted her veil at last. Her reflection stared back, Soft eyes, wide and clear, surveyed her own image. Below them, lips like flower petals rested gently, their natural color a subtle blush. Her skin, flawless and luminous as the first snowfall, framed her face, contrasting beautifully with her long, flowing ginger hair that cascaded past her shoulders, catching the light like spun copper revealing a visage of innocent beauty. A perfect mask.

She reached into her sleeve and pulled out the jade pendant again. The only witness left of her past. She held it against her heart. “Father… Mother… I’ve stepped into the lion’s den,” she whispered. “I will find the truth. I swear it.”

A sudden cold gust blew out one of the candles.

Ruyu turned sharply. The door opened.

General Lu Zeyan entered without ceremony, his cloak falling over the floor like a shadow. He removed his gloves slowly, eyes never leaving her.

She stiffened. He approached her—unhurried, confident, a predator stalking a small white rabbit.

His voice was quiet. “Shen Ruyu.”

She bowed slightly. “Husband.” The word felt foreign on her tongue.

He stopped only a few steps away.“You may deceive the empire,” he said, “you may fool the gossips… but do not mistake me for a blind man.”

Her breath trembled. He leaned in, lowering his head until his lips were close enough to brush her ear.

“In this mansion,” he murmured, “every smile hides a knife. Every servant has a master. Every shadow has eyes.”

Her fingers tightened around the pendant.

He continued, even softer— “If you wish to survive… stay close to me.”

For the first time, Shen Ruyu felt her carefully crafted mask falter. Was he warning her?Threatening her? Protecting her? Before she could ask, he straightened, his expression closed off once more.

“We begin a public life tomorrow. Until then, rest.”

He turned to leave— But paused at the door.

Without looking back, he added: “And Shen Ruyu… whatever lies you have wrapped yourself in, do not bring them into my battlefield.”

The door closed behind him. Ruyu’s heart pounded violently. Not from fear. But from realization.

Lu Zeyan was not indifferent. He was watching her. Thoroughly. Quietly. Dangerously.

Her plan to remain unnoticed… had already failed.

And yet— A slow, cunning smile curled on her lips.

“If the general wants to play,” she whispered, “then I will dance.”

The candle flames flickered as if in answer. Her revenge journey had begun. But she was not the only predator in the marriage.

...****************...

The candle burned low into the night, casting trembling halos of gold across the bridal chamber. Shen Ruyu remained still before the mirror, watching her own reflection as if studying a stranger. Her lips held the faintest curve—one that did not belong to a frightened new bride, but to a woman who had survived hell and learned how to smile through it.

Outside, the distant clang of metal echoed through the vast Lu estate. Sentries patrolled. Servants whispered. Somewhere, a dog barked once and was instantly silenced. The entire mansion was a fortress. And she had just walked into its heart to marry its master.

Ruyu touched the jade pendant once more before hiding it inside her inner sleeve. Stay close to me, he had said. A warning. A threat. A promise. His voice still lingered at the shell of her ear, uncomfortably dangerous. She sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the shifting shadows. Every shadow has eyes. Lu Zeyan’s words repeated in her mind long after his footsteps faded.

Then came another sound—soft, almost too delicate to hear. A flutter of fabric. A breath.

Ruyu stilled—'Someone else was in the room.'

She did not move her head, only lowered her lashes to narrow her field of vision. In the reflection of the bronze mirror, a faint silhouette shifted in the corner behind the screen. Too light-footed to be a soldier. Too calm to be a panicked servant. A spy. On her wedding night.

Of course.

The Lu estate was a nest of political intrigue. Zeyan’s mansion was rumored to be filled with hidden factions—loyalists from the northern border, aristocrats from the old dynasty, and new nobles seeking favor with the emperor. Each had their own agents.

Quietly, she reached for the ornate hairpin tucked in her hair. A gift from the Empress herself. Beautiful. Sharp. But before she could move, a cold voice drifted from the shadows.

“Forgive the intrusion, Madam.” Ruyu’s muscles tightened. A young woman stepped out—perhaps in her early twenties, dressed in the red-and-black uniform of the general’s personal servants. A rank higher than ordinary maids. Her expression was unreadable, polite yet assessing.

“I am Bai Mei,” the woman said, bowing. “Assigned to attend to you.”

Assigned—by whom? Lu Zeyan? The Empress? Or someone else entirely? Ruyu allowed her voice to tremble with timid delicacy.

“I… I didn’t hear you enter.” Ruyu questioned

“That is the intention.” Bai Mei straightened, eyes sharp. “The General prefers efficiency and vigilance in the bridal quarters. For your safety.”

Safety. Dangerous word. Ruyu offered a small, shy smile. “The General is… very cautious.”

“Caution is survival,” Bai Mei replied. Behind her gentle tone was steel. “As you will soon learn.”

Ruyu tilted her head, studying the woman. Her eyes, though respectful, held neither warmth nor malice—only a soldier’s discipline. A loyal one, perhaps.

After a moment, Bai Mei approached the bed and knelt. “Madam, I am instructed to prepare the nightly arrangements.”(Meaning: she was here to confirm whether the marriage was consummated.)

Ruyu’s face warmed, though the blush was an act. “There is no need. The General has retired for the night.”

Bai Mei’s fingers paused for a fraction of a second. “Is that so? The General is not known to leave duties half-done.”

Ruyu lowered her gaze demurely, hiding her smile. “Then perhaps I am simply not a duty tonight.”

The faintest twitch of amusement crossed the maid’s eyes. Only for a heartbeat.

“I see,” Bai Mei murmured. “I will report accordingly.”

Report… to whom?...Before Ruyu could ask, the maid bowed again. “If you require anything, Madam, I will be stationed outside the door.”

“Thank you,” Ruyu said softly.

Bai Mei slipped out as quietly as she had come.

Silence descended again. But this silence felt heavier. A reminder that the Lu estate had already begun evaluating her—testing her reactions, weighing her usefulness, measuring her lies.

Ruyu lay down beneath the red canopy. But sleep did not come easily. Every creak of the wood, every gust of wind, every soft step outside the chamber reminded her she was surrounded by enemies. Allies. Or something in-between.

If you wish to survive… stay close to me.

She touched the pillow. Cold. He hadn’t intended to stay. Good. Distance was safer. Yet her heartbeat whispered an inconvenient truth:

Lu Zeyan’s nearness had rattled her more than she wanted to admit.

**Morning**

The first light of dawn filtered through the sheer curtains. Outside, the courtyard echoed with disciplined shouts as soldiers began their morning drills. Their synchronized movements shook the ground faintly—like the heartbeat of a great beast.

Ruyu rose and dressed in a simple yet elegant light-gold qipao. No heavy embroidery. No bright colors. A quiet wife. A forgettable one. As she stepped out of the chamber, Bai Mei was already waiting.

“Good morning, Madam. The General requests your presence at the main hall.”

“Now?” Ruyu blinked. “Has he returned?”

“He never left,” Bai Mei replied.

Ruyu’s steps faltered for a second. “He spent the night… working?”

“General Lu spends every night working.” Bai Mei bowed slightly. “This way.”

They walked through long, echoing corridors. The grand estate was massive—courtyards connected by covered walkways, koi ponds reflecting the pale morning sky, and ancient stone statues watching silently from the gardens. Yet beneath the beauty was a subtle tension. Servants moved with caution. Guards stationed at every turn. As if the mansion itself was bracing for war. They reached the main hall. Bai Mei pushed open the heavy doors.

Ruyu stepped inside—then stopped. General Lu Zeyan stood at the head of the long table, already dressed in full uniform. Black tunic. Medals pinned with precise symmetry. Boots polished to a cold shine. His presence filled the hall effortlessly. But what caught her attention was not him. It was the map spread across the table.

A detailed military map of northern provinces. Circles marked in red ink. Names of warlords. Supply routes. Barracks. Numbers scribbled in the general’s sharp handwriting. He was planning something....Something big.

Ruyu masked her interest immediately, bowing. “Good morning, General.”

Lu Zeyan lifted his gaze slowly. Those obsidian eyes pinned her in place. “You are late.”

She stiffened. It wasn’t even an accusation—just a fact. “I did not receive instructions to rise earlier,” she replied softly.

“A wife should not need instructions,” he said, turning back to the map. “She should understand.”

Ruyu’s fingers curled discreetly. “I will try to understand better.”

“You will,” he said simply. “Sit.”

She obeyed. A servant brought tea. She poured for him first, her movements practiced and gentle.

Lu Zeyan watched her hands. Not her face. Not her posture. But Her hands.

“Steady,” he murmured. “Too steady for a sheltered girl.”

Ruyu froze for a fraction, then lowered her eyes. “I practiced, General. I wanted to be… suitable.”

“Hm.” He took the cup without further comment.

But the air was no longer neutral. It sharpened—like a blade being slowly drawn.

“Today,” he said, “you will meet members of the Lu household.”

“Of course, You will answer when spoken to.” His tone cooled. “You will not volunteer information.”

She hesitated. “Do you believe I cannot speak properly?”

“No.” His eyes flicked up, unreadable. “I believe you speak too little or too well. Both are dangerous.” Her breath stilled.

He continued, voice level. “And, Shen Ruyu… yesterday’s warning remains.”

Her pulse quickened. “Do not bring lies into your battlefield?”

“No.” His gaze darkened. “Stay close to me.”

Something trembled in her chest. She forced her tone gentle. “I will obey.”

“Good.” He straightened. “Because there are already whispers about you.”

“Whispers...?” she asked "About what?"

“About your past. Your family. Your sudden appearance.” He stepped closer, his shadow falling over her. “Someone is curious about you, Shen Ruyu.”

Her heartbeat thundered. “Who?”

Lu Zeyan’s answer was soft– too soft. “Everyone.”

...****************...

**The First Gathering**

The inner courtyard bustled with activity. Ladies in elaborate silk gowns gathered beneath the pavilion, their jeweled hairpins glittering under the rising sun. Conversations drifted—gossip coated in honey and venom. The Lu estate’s women.

Relatives. Distant cousins. Political allies. Predators. As Ruyu approached, conversations stilled like candles snuffed out. Dozens of eyes turned to her—some cold, some curious, some openly judging.

A woman in elegant lavender silk stepped forward, smiling too sweetly. “So this is the little bride the Marshal choose?”

Ruyu bowed. “Shen Ruyu greets First Madam Lu.”

The woman laughed behind her fan. “Ah, so timid. I wonder how long such sweetness can survive here.” The other women chuckled.

Ruyu kept her smile soft, serene. “Timid flowers can have thorns too, Madam.” The woman’s eyes widened slightly. A ripple passed through the group. Then—A voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“Enough.”Lu Zeyan’s authoritative tone silenced the courtyard instantly. He stepped into the pavilion, his presence shifting the air. Ladies straightened. Servants dropped into bows.

He went directly to Ruyu. And for the first time since she met him—he stood beside her. A clear declaration of position. Every eye widened. Some faces paled.

Lu Zeyan spoke calmly, but each word landed like steel on stone. “This is the Marshal's Madam. Anyone who wishes to question her will question me first.”

Ruyu’s heart jolted. The women bowed instantly. “We welcome Madam Shen.”

Ruyu hid her surprise behind lowered lashes. She had expected distance. Suspicion. Coldness. But this…This was protection. Not gentle. Not warm.

But unmistakable. As if he was drawing a line around her. A battlefield line. Ruyu smiled softly, her eyes shimmering with hidden fire. So General Lu… you want me close? Very well.

She stepped forward, her voice melodic yet poised. “Thank you, General. And thank you, esteemed ladies. I hope we all get along.”

The tension broke—just slightly.Lu Zeyan did not look at her, but his next words were unmistakable.

“You will.”

 ---

Later—When the crowd dispersed Ruyu walked beside him down the corridor. The air between them felt different—charged, tight, full of unsaid calculations.

“General,” she said gently, “why did you defend me?” He didn’t answer at first.

Then— “Because,” he said quietly, “wolves bite hardest when they sense weakness.”

Her steps slowed. “And what do you sense, General?” she whispered. “Weakness?”

He turned his head. Their eyes met. His voice dropped dangerously low. “No. Not weakness.”

A pause. “A woman hiding sharpened steel beneath silk.”

Her breath hitched. He stepped closer, until she felt the coldness of his uniform against her arm.

“So remember this, Shen Ruyu,” he murmured. “If you carry a knife in this house… hold it behind my back, not at it.”

She swallowed. A threat. A warning. A pact.

“I understand,” she whispered.

“Good.” He continued walking, his cloak trailing behind him. “Your true test begins tonight.”

"Tonight...?" she asked, trying to catch up with him.

He didn’t look back. “We are attending a private banquet with the Minister of War.” A dangerous, powerful man. Ruyu froze. This was too soon.

He added, voice calm— “And, Shen Ruyu… the Minister knew your father.” Her blood turned to ice.

Her revenge path had begun. And fate had just placed her first enemy directly in her hands.

Ruyu stopped breathing for a second. Her hands curled at her sides before she forced them to relax. She lowered her head, trying to hide her reaction, but her pulse was too loud in her ears.

Lu Zeyan stopped walking. Ruyu paused behind him automatically. When he finally spoke, his tone was unreadable. “Are you afraid?”

Ruyu lifted her chin slowly, masking the tremor in her chest with a small, practiced smile. “Should I be?”

His eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in scrutiny. A man testing the strength of a blade. “That depends,” he said. “On how much you’re hiding.”

Her pulse skipped. Every conversation with him felt like stepping through a field of buried mines—one wrong word, one misplaced breath, and everything could explode.

Ruyu lowered her gaze demurely. “I am merely your wife, General. I hide nothing.” A lie wrapped in silk. Lu Zeyan’s smirks “No. You hide everything.”

He took a step toward her. Ruyu’s breath hitched as he trapped her gently between the wall and his shadow—not touching, but close enough that she could feel the cold metal of his uniform buttons near her sleeve.

“Listen carefully,” he said, his voice low enough for only her to hear. “The Minister of War is not a man to underestimate. If he suspects even a drop of falsehood in you—” He paused.

Ruyu swallowed. “He will investigate me?”

“Investigate?” Lu Zeyan’s tone hardened. “He will destroy you.” Her fingers clenched at her sides, nails pressing crescent moons into her palms.

The Minister of War… A man with immense authority. A man tied to the old regime. A man who held power to erase entire families. A man who knew her father. That meant one thing. Her family’s death was not random.

Ruyu hid the fury rising in her chest, forcing her shoulders to relax, her voice steady. “Then I will be cautious.”

“That is not enough.” His gaze sharpened. “You must be perfect.”

A dangerous smile curved her lips. “I can be perfect.” He held her eyes for three long seconds—searching, measuring, challenging. Then he stepped back, releasing her from his shadow.

“Prepare yourself,” he said. “You will need every weapon you possess tonight.” Ruyu bowed her head. “As you command, Husband.”

He turned to leave, cloak brushing past her like a cold whisper. But halfway down the hall, he stopped again. Without turning, he said—

“And Shen Ruyu… do not let the Minister see your real eyes.” Ruyu froze. “My… eyes?”

He hesitated only a fraction. “Your eyes are not the eyes of a harmless girl.” Then he walked away, leaving her standing alone in the dim hallway, her heart pounding like thunder.

**Back in her Chambers**

Bai Mei rushed in as soon as Ruyu entered. “Madam, I heard—the General has asked the wardrobe mistress to prepare formal attire for you.” Ruyu nodded absently. Her mind was elsewhere. She sat before the mirror as Bai Mei placed a tray of combs and silks beside her.

“Madam,” Bai Mei said softly, “you seem… troubled.” Ruyu blinked, snapping back into her mask. “Do I?”

“Yes.” Bai Mei’s voice lowered. “But I assume trouble is common when married into a house like this.” Ruyu’s fingers traced a strand of her copper hair. “Is the Minister someone to fear?”

Bai Mei stiffened—only for a heartbeat, but enough for Ruyu to notice. “The Minister,” the maid whispered, “is someone no one wishes to offend. except your Marshal.” That meant something or everything.

“Tell me,” Ruyu said calmly, “what kind of man is he?” Bai Mei hesitated. Fear glimmered in her eyes. “Madam… it is better if you do not know.”

Ruyu offered a soft, gentle smile. “Then I will listen carefully tonight.” Bai Mei bowed, unable to say more. As she left, Ruyu lifted a hairpin from the tray—a slender piece of carved ebony, simple yet sharp. A memory stirred—"Her mother’s voice.

A lady’s hairpin can be her dagger, Ruyu." She slid the pin into her hair. “Perfect,” she whispered to her reflection.

**Night fell**

The Lu estate lit up with lanterns as the carriage waited outside the main gates. Soldiers lined the courtyard in rigid formation, their boots striking the stone sharply as Lu Zeyan approached. He wore dark military uniform again—no ceremonial silk, no visible weapons, yet somehow he looked more dangerous than any armed soldier present.

When Ruyu stepped out in her midnight-blue qipao embroidered with silver cranes, the courtyard fell silent. Her beauty was cold, serene, untouchable—like moonlight on deep water. Lu Zeyan’s gaze flicked to her. And for the first time, something unreadable crossed his eyes. Not desire.

Not approval. Something quieter. Sharper.

A brief acknowledgment of the weapon she had become.

He extended a gloved hand—not to touch her, but as an unspoken order. “Stay at my side,” he said.

“I will,” she replied. They stepped into the carriage together. The door shut. The car moved. The wheels rolled over the cobblestone path, carrying them toward the heart of the political world—where lies were currency, loyalty was borrowed, and truth was deadly.

Ruyu inhaled slowly, letting her voice drop to a whisper meant only for him. “General… does the Minister know we’re coming?”

“Yes.” he answered

“Did he request it,” she asked softly, “or did you?”

His jaw tightened, the faintest sign of tension.

“I requested it.”

Ruyu’s breath caught. “Why?”

Lu Zeyan turned his head slightly, shadows sculpting his ruthlessly sharp features. “So I can watch how he looks at you.”

The carriage fell silent. Ruyu’s heart pounded against her ribs—loud, fierce, alive.

He continued, voice quiet but lethal— “And so I can see whether he recognizes the daughter of Shen Jianxiu when she stands before him.”

Her blood froze. He knew her father’s name.

He had known all along. Ruyu stared at him, breath unsteady. “General… what do you know about my father?”

Lu Zeyan’s reply was a blade hidden in velvet.

“Enough to know... you did not enter my house for love.”

Ruyu’s fingers trembled on her lap. Then she asked, almost too softly— “Will you expose me?”

The carriage lantern glowed on his face as he turned fully toward her. “No.”

Silence.

“Why?” she whispered.

His eyes darkened. “Because a woman who carries vengeance in her veins is useful.”

Useful. Ruyu looked down, hiding the storm surging in her chest.

Lu Zeyan leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper that brushed the shell of her ear. “Do not mistake this for mercy, Shen Ruyu. Until your secret serves me, it will remain safe.”

Her breath hitched—not in fear, but in the thrill of the game unfolding.

She lifted her eyes slowly, meeting his gaze head-on. “Then tonight,” she murmured, “let us see whose secret is worth more.” For the first time, something like a smile ghosted across his lips. “A reasonable challenge,” he murmured.

The carriage turned down a grand avenue, lanterns blazing, soldiers saluting as they passed. Ahead, the Minister of War’s mansion rose like a beast of stone and shadow. And inside waited the first man who had ever wanted her dead. Ruyu inhaled, spine straightening. Revenge begins tonight.

“General,” she said softly, “I am ready.” Lu Zeyan glanced at her—sharp, proud, dangerous. “Good,” he said. “Because the Minister is waiting… and he already suspects you.”

The carriage came to a stop. A servant opened the door. Ruyu stepped out into a world of polished marble, cold eyes, and deadly secrets.

...****************...