Chapter 5 : Shen Yuantai

The guards shoved the man forward, and he stumbled to his knees beneath the weight of every gaze in the hall.nHis hair was tangled. His clothes—torn from travel. His face—ashen with fear. But even through the grime and exhaustion…

Ruyu knew him.

-Shen Yuantai.- Her father’s former steward.

The man who disappeared the night her family burned. Her breath nearly broke. Lu Zeyan’s eyes flicked to her—quick, sharp, assessing—before locking back onto the trembling man.

The Minister of War stepped closer, amusement curling at his lips. “So. A ghost from Madam Lu’s past?”

The man lifted his head, searching the hall desperately…And the moment he found Ruyu, relief washed over his face like a tide.

“Y–Young Miss!” he choked out. “It’s really you—alive!”

The hall exploded into whispers. “Miss?” “She lied?” “She isn’t from the countryside?” “Who is she, then?”

The Minister’s smile widened. “Alive? That implies she was meant to be otherwise.”

Ruyu forced her face to remain still. Do not react.

Do not reveal. Do not break.

Lu Zeyan moved first. He crossed the hall with slow, deliberate steps—predator-quiet—until he stood in front of the kneeling man. His shadow swallowed the steward whole. “Shen Yuantai,” Lu Zeyan said, voice cool as winter steel. “You dare speak to Madam Lu without permission?”

The steward collapsed forward, bowing so hard his forehead hit the tiles. “Marshal! Forgive me—I only came to warn her—”

“Warn her?” The Minister echoed, stepping closer.

“Warn her of what?”

Ruyu’s pulse hammered painfully.

She could not allow the steward to speak freely.

Not here. Not in front of the Minister.

But she couldn’t move. Not without revealing desperation.

Lu Zeyan, however, lifted a hand. And the entire room fell silent.

His gaze stayed on the man below him, calm but lethal. “Speak carefully,” the Marshal said. “One wrong word ends your life.”

The steward trembled violently. “M–Marshal… I mean no disrespect. I only—only wanted to tell the Young Miss—”

“Her name,” Lu Zeyan corrected, “is Madam Lu.”

Yuantai swallowed. “Y–Yes. Madam Lu… your family… your father… he was betrayed.”

The last word cracked in the air like a whip. Ruyu felt her throat close. The Minister’s expression didn’t change, but his fingers twitched behind his sleeve.

Lu Zeyan did notice. And his eyes sharpened with interest. “Continue,” he commanded.

Yuantai sucked in a shaking breath. “The night the Shen estate burned… it wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t bandits. It was—”

Ruyu couldn’t breathe. Every memory slammed into her— flames, smoke, screams, her father’s dying voice— “Ruyu… run…” But before the steward could finish—

One of the guards behind him stiffened, eyes widening. Then—thud. The steward collapsed sideways, a thin dart lodged in his throat.

Poison. Instant.

The hall erupted.— “Assassin!”

“Shut the doors!”

“Protect the Minister!”

“Find the shooter!”

Chaos burst like shattering glass. Ruyu jerked up from her seat, her breath crushed by shock.

Lu Zeyan didn’t move. He stood perfectly still, his eyes tracking the dart with eerie calm— as if he had expected this. He stepped forward and knelt beside the dying man.

The steward’s eyes focused on him—clouding fast. “M–Marshal… the traitor… is…” His voice faded. His body went limp. Silence slammed over the hall as the Marshal closed the man’s eyes with a single gloved hand. When he stood, his expression was unreadable.

The Minister approached, masking his tension with a thin smile. “What a tragedy,” he murmured.

“Seems someone wished to silence him.”

Lu Zeyan finally turned to him. Not with accusation. Not with anger. But with a calm so cold it chilled the entire hall. “Indeed,” he said softly. “Someone powerful.”

Ruyu felt the temperature drop another degree.

His calmness meant danger. Real danger.

The Minister chuckled lightly. “Marshal, you don’t suspect—”

“I suspect everyone,” Lu Zeyan interrupted.

“Especially those who gain the most from a dead man.”

The Minister froze for half a heartbeat. Then regained his smile. “Surely you don’t mean me.”

Lu Zeyan stepped closer, until only a breath separated their ranks. A Marshal standing above a Minister— and reminding him. “I don’t mean,” Lu Zeyan said quietly,

“I calculate.”

The hall didn’t breathe. Not one soul. Then he turned away from the Minister entirely and looked at Ruyu. “Madam,” he said, voice steady, “we are leaving.”

Ruyu rose, but her legs trembled almost imperceptibly.

The Minister watched her, eyes gleaming with interest—and something darker. “Such dramatic events,” he mused. “You must visit again soon, Madam Lu. I would love to hear more about your past.”

Ruyu met his gaze with a calm, soft smile—

one she had spent years perfecting. “I would love to hear about yours as well, Minister.”

His smile cracked. Just a little. Lu Zeyan placed a gloved hand on her lower back— not gentle. Not affectionate but Guiding. Claiming. Shielding.

As they crossed the hall, guards parted instantly.

But the moment they stepped into the cold night air and the doors shut behind them—

Lu Zeyan spoke. “You knew him.”

Ruyu’s throat tightened. “Yes.”

“Then you know,” he said softly, “that someone wanted him dead the moment he saw you.”

Ruyu’s breath faltered. “General—”

He turned to her fully. A man carved from war. A mind carved from strategy. A heart carved from fire.

“From now on,” he said, “you do not leave my sight.”

Her pulse stumbled. “Why?” she whispered.

His voice dropped into a low, lethal murmur.

“Because your past is no longer chasing you.”

His eyes glinted like steel. “It is hunting you.”

And then, almost as an afterthought: “And I do not let anyone hunt what is mine.” The night swallowed his words—and the storm finally began.

The street outside the Minister’s mansion had emptied, but the cold felt sharper now—like the night itself knew blood had been spilled. Ruyu walked beside Lu Zeyan, her steps quiet, her pulse a trapped bird slamming against its cage. Carriage lanterns flickered as the driver straightened, but the Marshal didn’t lead her toward it. He kept walking. Past the carriage. Past the guards. Deeper into the shadowed courtyard.

Ruyu hesitated. “General…?”

He didn’t answer. He only stopped once they were far enough from curious eyes and hidden ears. The courtyard wind tugged at his cloak, whipping it like a banner. He finally turned. His gaze hit her like a strike. Not angry. Not cold. Focused—dangerously focused.

“You will tell me everything,” he said, voice low, controlled. “All of it. Now.”

Ruyu held her breath. If she told him everything… she’d be handing him the very blade that could kill her. If she told him nothing… she might be dead already.

She pressed her palms together to steady them. “Shen Yuantai served my father. He disappeared the night the estate burned. I thought—everyone thought—he perished.”

Lu Zeyan said nothing. He waited.

“The estate was attacked by bandits,” she continued softly, the lie brittle as glass. “At least… that is what the court recorded.”

“That is what the court claimed,” he corrected.

Ruyu’s fingernails bit into her own skin.

His tone sharpened. “You don’t believe it. Neither did he.”

Ruyu’s throat tightened. “No.”

The Marshal stepped closer. His shadow fell over her like armor… or a snare.

“Ruyu,” he said quietly, “you are not a fool. Neither am I. Bandits do not slip poison darts into Ministerial banquets. Bandits do not silence stewards years after the fact. Bandits do not burn noble estates without someone powerful clearing the way.”

His voice dropped into a lethal whisper. “Your family was erased.”

The words sliced through her. Ruyu closed her eyes for a moment—just a moment—because hearing it aloud was a blade to the ribs.

“And whoever did it,” Lu Zeyan continued, “now knows you survived.”

She opened her eyes. “General… you cannot assume—”

“I do not assume.” He stepped closer. “This was planned. Calculated. The timing is precise. Only when you re-enter the capital. Only when you appear at my side. Only when your identity gains value.”

He circled her slowly, calmly, like a strategist walking around a battlefield. “You think I defend you out of kindness,” he murmured behind her. “But I am a Marshal. I defend because it protects my advantage.”

She turned sharply. “Then what advantage am I to you?”

He stopped in front of her—breath away, eyes burning. “A woman with enemies in high places,” he said softly, “is a compass. She points to rot.”

Her heartbeat slammed. He wasn’t just protecting her. He was using her as bait—yet shielding her fiercely, almost possessively, like she was an asset he refused to lose. The thought should’ve terrified her. It did. But it also—grounded something inside her.

“And what if,” she said slowly, “my past brings ruin to your position?”

His expression didn’t waver. “Then I act before it ruins anything.”

“How?” she asked.

The corner of his mouth lifted—not a smile. A promise of violence. “By hunting the hunter.”

Ruyu swallowed. Hard. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Lu Zeyan lifted a hand—not to touch her—but to tilt her chin lightly with his gloved knuckle, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“When the steward saw you,” he murmured, “someone panicked enough to kill him on the spot.”

His eyes flickered with cold calculation. “That means you are no longer a secret.”

Her breath trembled. “Then what am I now?”

“Marked,” he answered. “Wanted dead.” Then softer—deadlier—“And under my protection.”

He released her chin and stepped back, his cloak shifting like a storm unfurling. “We return to the manor,” he said. “From now onward, you will stay in the Marshal’s residence. Not the guest wing. Not the courtyard.”

Her eyes widened. “Where then?”

He looked at her like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “In my wing.”

Her heart stuttered. “Why?”

His voice turned low—dangerously intimate and brutally honest. “Because if they want you…”

He leaned in. “They’ll have to go through me.”

Then he turned, signaling his guards. The night wind rose. The empire shifted.

And far behind them, deep inside the Minister of War’s hall… A pair of shadowed eyes watched the departing carriage through an open lattice window, smiling like a man who had set a wolf and a blade on a collision course.

The real game had begun.

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