Xuefeng had always admired Wuying's beauty—a kind of sharp, striking allure that matched her unwavering confidence. But when the door opened, and the young woman entered, the air in the room shifted. He froze, stunned by the sheer presence she exuded. Beside her, Wuying's radiance dimmed ever so slightly, and for the first time, Xuefeng felt a flicker of comparison that unsettled him.
The woman's purple one-piece dress clung to her like a second skin, accentuating an elegant, hourglass figure. The hemline stopped just above her knees, revealing legs that seemed sculpted to draw eyes. She was like one of the top models he remembered from the glossy pages of Earth's magazines, except here, she was undeniably real. Even Tianshi, with all her grace and charm, now seemed less definitive in his mind.
His gaze climbed upward, taking in her well-developed chest and the cascade of jet-black hair falling effortlessly over her shoulders. It framed her figure like a dark waterfall, a stark contrast to her warm brown eyes—the only part of her face visible above a delicate veil. His breath caught as recognition dawned. The veiled lady from the ceremony.
Zhen Shan swept into the room with a quiet confidence, her eyes scanning the faces present before settling on him. A smile curled beneath her veil, soft and knowing. Wuying stiffened immediately, her instincts sharp as a blade. To her, Zhen Shan wasn't just an intruder—she was a rival. An uninvited one.
How did no one tell me about her presence in the Clan? Wuying thought darkly. She forced her expression into calm neutrality, though her mind was already plotting. I will have to "educate" my subordinates after this meeting.
"Welcome, Princess. Please, have a seat," Liu Xiaobei said warmly, his tone as measured as his gesture to the empty chair. But his eyes betrayed a hint of calculation, as though this moment had been planned well in advance.
"Hello, everyone. I hope I'm not intruding," Zhen Shan said, her voice soft yet commanding, each syllable laced with the weight of someone accustomed to being listened to. She moved gracefully to the chair beside Xuefeng, her every step an act of practiced elegance. As she settled, her eyes flicked toward him, the faintest glimmer of interest sparking behind the veil. It wasn't subtle.
"Young Master Xuefeng," she said, her tone dipping into something sweet, something that felt like honey on a knife. "I've wanted to meet you sooner, but the opportunity never came."
Xuefeng offered her a polite smile, though his mind was elsewhere, already whirring with purpose. Ling, confirm this for me. Is the Fate Fragment here?
It's with her, Ling replied, her voice calm but tinged with certainty. Near her chest. Likely a necklace.
Xuefeng nodded inwardly, suppressing the tension building in his chest. So close. Outwardly, his demeanor remained smooth, his voice easy. "I apologize for that," he said aloud, his tone practiced but sincere. "Yesterday's events left me exhausted, and I slept longer than I should have. I'll make it up to you, Lady Shan."
Wuying's head snapped toward him so quickly he half-expected a crack. Her eyes narrowed, her usually calm expression hardening into something sharp. This wasn't the Xuefeng she knew. He was polite, sure—but this? This was too polished, too deferential. Her stomach knotted with an unfamiliar pang of jealousy. Was I too lenient in my training plan? she wondered. Time to fix that.
Zhen Shan's veil shifted slightly as she nodded, clearly pleased by his response. "I'd like that," she said, her voice slipping into a softer register, the kind of tone that curled into your ears and stayed there. "Perhaps we could discuss it over dinner tomorrow?"
Before Xuefeng could respond, Wuying interjected, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. "He already has training with me tomorrow. I don't think he'll have the energy for a late dinner."
The tension in the room crackled like static, sudden and impossible to ignore. Xuefeng turned toward Wuying, catching the steel in her gaze. He had been so focused on Ling's plan to retrieve the fragment that he'd momentarily forgotten she was there. A mistake. A big mistake.
"And who are you?" Zhen Shan asked, tilting her head slightly. Her veil didn't hide the edge creeping into her tone.
"I'm Xuefeng's…" Wuying hesitated, the word girlfriend hovering unspoken on her lips. It wasn't quite true—not yet. "…teacher," she finished, her voice steady but carrying the faintest hint of resentment.
"Well, I think I can find time for dinner," Xuefeng said quickly, his tone placating as he tried to salvage the situation. But his words only added fuel to the fire.
Zhen Shan's eyes gleamed with triumph, the veil doing nothing to hide her satisfaction. "Thank you, Young Master," she said, her tone dripping with victory as she turned her attention back to Wuying.
Wuying's lips curled into a scowl. "Are you wearing that veil to hide your face? Afraid it might be too much for people to handle?"
The jab was sharp, but Zhen Shan didn't flinch. "I wear it so insecure women don't feel threatened," she said smoothly, her gaze flicking toward Xuefeng. "If the Young Master would like to see my face, he only has to ask."
The subtle insult landed like a needle, precise and painful. Wuying's expression darkened, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. Before the tension could spiral further, Xuefeng raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Ladies, please," he said, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Let's keep this civil."
"She started it!" they both snapped, their voices overlapping in sharp unison.
From his place at the head of the room, Liu Xiaobei laughed, the sound warm and rich with nostalgia. It was the laugh of a man who had seen—and survived—his fair share of similar situations. Mu Lan, seated beside him, sighed heavily, her eyes narrowing at the scene before her.
"Enough," Liu Xiaobei said, his tone firm, commanding the room with a single word. "The Princess will be staying with our clan for a time. There are free rooms in Xuefeng's courtyard, and we'll arrange for her to stay there. Xuefeng, are you fine with this?"
"No," Wuying said instantly, her voice clipped and decisive.
"Yes," Zhen Shan said just as quickly, her tone light and unbothered.
Both women turned to Xuefeng, their gazes locking onto him like predators awaiting his move.
Xuefeng hesitated, feeling the weight of their stares. Finally, he nodded. "I don't mind," he said carefully. "It'll be nice to have more people around."
Wuying's expression soured, but she bit her tongue. She wasn't one to make a scene, not in front of the Clan Leader. Calm down, she told herself. You're better than this. If you act like a spoiled brat, he'll think less of you.
But inside, her thoughts churned like a storm. And Zhen Shan? She simply smiled behind her veil, a victor savoring her first battle.
"Then it's settled," Liu Xiaobei declared, his tone brooking no argument. Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. "Princess Shan will stay in the courtyard. Xuefeng, you should head to the Spirit Treasury. This meeting is adjourned."
Zhen Shan rose with an elegance that felt almost calculated, her movements smooth, as though every step was part of an unspoken performance. "How about I join them?" she asked sweetly, her voice honeyed with just enough edge to spark tension. "I have nothing better to do."
Wuying's relief at the prospect of escaping her rival evaporated in an instant. Her chest tightened as Xuefeng nodded with casual ease. "Sure," he said, oblivious to the storm brewing at his side. "The more, the merrier."
Wuying froze, caught between disbelief and anger. But a Shadow Guard didn't lose composure—not outwardly. She forced a smile, the curve of her lips razor-sharp. Stepping beside Xuefeng, she tilted her head, her voice smooth as silk. "I'm ready."
Her gaze softened as it landed on him, and without thinking, Xuefeng murmured, "You're prettier when you smile."
The words landed like an arrow, and Wuying felt her heart soar. It's working, she thought, warmth spreading through her chest. She glanced at Zhen Shan, her triumph unspoken but clear.
"I'm ready too," Zhen Shan said from his other side, her tone an exact mirror of Wuying's. The challenge was subtle, but unmistakable.
As the three exited the room, the tension between the women crackled like an approaching storm, invisible but felt in every glance, every step. Xuefeng, caught between them, felt the weight of it but said nothing. Sometimes, silence was the safest refuge.
Behind them, Liu Xiaobei chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled Mu Lan onto his lap. "Competition will do her good," he said, the faintest trace of nostalgia in his voice.
Mu Lan, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke. "I don't like the way you're handling this," she said, her tone clipped.
"It'll help her bloom," Liu Xiaobei replied, his voice low and unhurried. His hands rested lightly on her waist, but his gaze remained thoughtful. "Wuying's never faced competition before. She's grown comfortable—complacent, even. Princess Shan will push her, make her stronger."
Mu Lan frowned, her fingers tapping lightly against his chest. "And what if our son chooses Zhen Shan? I thought you didn't want to tie our family to hers."
Liu Xiaobei's expression shifted, a flicker of reassurance passing over his features. "He won't," he said simply. "She's not tied to her family, not in any way that matters. Zhen Shan thinks for herself. Besides, she won't be here long. With her Purple talent, she's bound to leave Aurora Country sooner rather than later."
Mu Lan wasn't convinced. "I don't want our son led astray," she said, her voice firm as she gave him a light swat on the chest.
"He won't be," Liu Xiaobei replied, his tone softening. "Right now, his focus is on training. If anything unexpected happens, we'll step in. Trust me." He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her lips, the weight of his words hanging in the air between them.
Mu Lan sighed, her resistance melting under his touch. "Mhmm," she murmured, returning the kiss but holding onto a kernel of doubt, a mother's instinct that refused to be fully placated.