[15 Years ago]
The memories of a bygone era flooded Qin Fuhua's mind as he wandered the bustling streets of Liaoping, a city alive with the vibrant energy of its festivals and the soft glow of lanterns casting their warm light upon the cobblestone pathways.
It was a place steeped in nostalgia, where every corner held echoes of days long past and memories cherished in the heart. Amidst the crowd of people, Qin Fuhua's gaze was drawn to a display of jade bracelets, their verdant hues catching the light and gleaming with ethereal beauty.
Lost in contemplation, he scarcely noticed the approach of another until a melodious voice broke through the haze of his thoughts. "Looking for something important?" Startled, Qin Fuhua turned to find himself face to face with a vision of loveliness—a young woman whose delicate features were framed by the gentle folds of her sleeves as she smiled shyly up at him.
Her presence was like a breath of fresh air amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and intrigue.
"What is the dear Prince doing here in the little city of Liaoping?" she inquired, her voice soft and melodic, carrying a hint of playful curiosity as she regarded him with a knowing smile.
Qin Fuhua's demeanor remained composed as he sought to conceal the true purpose behind his visit to the city, his expression a mask of calm indifference as he responded to the girl's inquiry.
"I happened to pass by the gates and wanted to visit the town since it has been a while," he replied casually, his words carefully chosen to deflect any suspicion that might arise.
Meanwhile, the girl's maid hovered nearby, a silent presence at her mistress's side. At the girl's gentle instruction, the maid bowed her head in acquiescence, her movements measured and precise as she prepared to depart.
"I will be taking my leave now," the maid murmured respectfully, her demeanor reflecting a sense of duty and deference as she prepared to carry out her mistress's wishes.
Left alone with the girl, Qin Fuhua found himself the object of her undivided attention, her gaze fixed upon him with an air of quiet anticipation. Sensing her readiness to engage in conversation, he inclined his head in acknowledgment, his features softening with a small smile.
"Would Your Highness like it if I, Meimei, invite you to have tea together?" the girl proposed, her voice gentle and inviting as she extended the invitation with grace and poise.
Qin Fuhua returned her smile with a nod of assent, his eyes alight with warmth and camaraderie. "It would be my pleasure to be accompanied by a great friend like you," he replied, his words imbued with sincerity and genuine appreciation for her company.
Qin Fuhua's brow furrowed with concern as he observed Meimei's troubled demeanor, a sense of unease settling over him at the sight of her distress.
"Meimei, you seem distressed. What is it?" he inquired, his voice gentle yet tinged with worry as he sought to understand the source of her troubles.
In a hesitant voice, Meimei revealed the weighty burden that lay heavy upon her heart—a forced marriage arranged by her father, orchestrated to secure a promising future at the cost of her happiness and autonomy.
"My father... wants me to marry an older man who had promised a great future for me," she confessed, her words tinged with resignation and sorrow.
"But we promised that you would wait!" Qin Fuhua was stopped by Meimei.
The realization of Meimei's predicament struck Qin Fuhua like a blow to the chest, his heart aching with empathy for the woman he held dear. He understood all too well the suffocating pressures of life within the palace, the relentless scrutiny and expectations that threatened to crush one's spirit beneath their weight.
"Being a lady in the palace is filled with stress!" Meimei continued, her voice tinged with bitterness as she lifted her gaze to meet Qin Fuhua's eyes. "Being watched twenty-four hours.... having to uphold a name and reputation of being the Prince's wife.... I cannot live that life."
As Qin Fuhua grappled with the magnitude of Meimei's anguish, his thoughts drifted back to a solemn promise made in the midst of uncertainty—a vow to stand by her side, come what may.
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[10 Years ago] In a moment etched in memory, amidst the lavish splendor of Meimei's wedding festivities, Qin Fuhua had made a silent pledge to honor their bond, to remain a steadfast presence in her life despite the obstacles that lay before them.
But as Meimei proudly introduced her new husband, Jianhong, to Qin Fuhua with a shy smile, his heart clenched with a mixture of resignation and regret.
For in that fleeting instant, he realized that their shared dreams and aspirations had been eclipsed by the harsh realities of duty and obligation.
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The scene was set on a bleak and foreboding morning, as thick clouds loomed overhead, casting a pall of gloom over the gathered assembly.
A biting chill permeated the air, causing the onlookers to huddle together for warmth, their breath forming wisps of fog in the frigid atmosphere.
Amidst the somber silence, rows of soldiers stood at attention, their bland expressions betraying the gravity of the moment as they bore witness to the impending execution of a woman rumored to be the object of Qin Fuhua's affection.
Tears streamed down the woman's cheeks, her heart heavy with the weight of impending doom.
Her final request—to be adorned in a resplendent red gown—served as a poignant reminder of the innocence and beauty that would soon be extinguished.
Seated upon a gilded throne, Qin Fuhua watched with a cold expression, his gaze unwavering as it bore into the woman who had once been his cherished childhood friend. Despite the tumult of emotions raging within him, he remained steadfast, his resolve unyielding in the face of betrayal.
"Meimei... why did you betray me?" His voice carried a note of anguish, the words a whispered lament that echoed within the confines of his troubled mind.
But as Meimei met his gaze with a blank expression, her tear-streaked face a mask of resignation, she uttered words that pierced through the heavy silence like a dagger to the heart.
"I was the one who poisoned your general," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper as she faced the inevitable consequences of her actions. "If you want to kill someone, kill me. Not my husband. I was the one who protected him."
As the soldier presented the damning evidence before Qin Fuhua, the weight of truth hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow of inevitability over the gathered assembly.
"Your Highness, this was true. Evidence shows that the tampering of the general's drink during the stay in Liaoping was from lady Mei." the soldier commented, interlacing his hands together. "Please execute the culprit and avenge for the general!"
With a solemn expression, the soldier implored the Prince to mete out justice and avenge the honor of the general whose life had been endangered by Lady Mei's treacherous actions. The events leading to the accusation unfolded with grim clarity—the tampering of the general's drink during their stay in Liaoping, the ensuing dispute over wealth and power, and the subsequent capture of Jianhong and Lady Mei on charges of attempted murder.
Though the general had been saved from the brink of death, the person of betrayal lingered like a dark cloud: The couple Jianhong and Meimei.
Faced with an impossible decision, Qin Fuhua turned his gaze away for but a moment, grappling with the weight of his own emotions and the bitter sting of betrayal. In that fleeting instant, he made a silent vow to guard his heart against the pain of love lost, to steel himself against the lure of affection and the vulnerability it entailed.
With resolve hardening in his heart, Qin Fuhua turned back to face Lady Mei, his features transformed by a mask of icy determination.
There was no room for mercy in the Prince's cold, unforgiving gaze—a stark contrast to the warmth and compassion he had once shown her.
"Kill her," he commanded, his voice devoid of emotion as he raised his arm in a decisive gesture, signaling the guards to carry out the grim task at hand.
In the final moments before her demise, Lady Mei's eyes sought out Qin Fuhua's, pleading for a glimmer of understanding or forgiveness.
But the Prince's heart had turned to stone, his once-gentle gaze now hardened by the weight of betrayal and the bitter sting of betrayal.
In that moment, all that remained was the cold, unforgiving wrath of a man scorned—a prince who had forsaken love in favor of duty, and who would not hesitate to mete out justice to those who dared to defy him.
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[Current]
"When the red phoenix is witnessed, the sun radiates its beautiful color but the moon cries to the Phoneix to remind him to come back home."
As the soldiers gathered in a huddled group, Jianhong's restless pacing and agitated demeanor caught Qin Fuhua's attention from his vantage point atop the rooftop tiles.
From afar, he observed the scene unfolding in the south courtyard, his keen eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of trouble.
The remnants of a fire, still smoldering amidst the charred debris, drew Qin Fuhua's gaze like a magnet, igniting a flicker of concern in his heart. Dark ashes littered the ground, stark evidence of the chaos that had ensued within the confines of the once-peaceful chamber.
Straining to hear the murmured conversations below, Qin Fuhua focused intently on the lips of Jianhong, his lips moving in silent agitation as he struggled to decipher the man's words.
"Did anyone find lady Suyin in the fire?!" Jianhong's words, though muffled by the distance, rang clear in Qin Fuhua's mind, sending a jolt of apprehension coursing through his veins.
Han Suyin—had she been caught in the blaze? The mere thought sent a pang of dread coursing through Qin Fuhua's heart, his stomach twisting with worry.
But amidst his rising panic, a surge of determination swept over him, steeling his resolve to take action. Clenching his scabbard tightly in his hand, he fought to contain the fury and disgust that threatened to consume him.
If Jianhong had indeed harmed Han Suyin, there would be consequences—of that, Qin Fuhua was certain.
With a grim determination, he knew that he could not afford to delay any longer. Adjusting his plans with a renewed sense of purpose, Qin Fuhua plotted his next move, his mind racing with thoughts of rescue and retribution.
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As they approached Junli's home, the weight of their task hung heavy upon them, each step a resolve.
Shao Feng's memories of the place flickered in his mind, guiding him through the familiar streets until they reached the humble manor amidst the quiet serenity of the neighborhood.
With Junli's strength waning, his voice barely a whisper, he led them to the back of his home, where a ladder lay waiting at the edge of the wall—a silent sentinel, bearing witness to their arrival.
"You go first, Lady Suyin. I'll help hold Sir Junli," Shao Feng offered, his voice steady and resolute.
Though Suyin harbored doubts about his ability to bear Junli's weight, his reassuring smile quelled her fears, and she nodded in acquiescence.
"Don't worry. I promise I can carry him. I've done massive work around the house worse than this," Shao Feng reassured her, his confidence unwavering.
With a shared understanding, Suyin ascended the bamboo ladder first, moving with cautious grace across the roof tiles, her movements deliberate and precise to avoid detection.
"Okay. Can you carry yourself for a little bit?" Suyin inquired of Junli, her voice soft with concern. With a nod, Junli summoned the last of his strength, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to comply.
"Sir Junli, I will help push you up, okay?" Shao Feng's words were a testament to his unwavering determination, his teeth clenched in silent resolve as he braced himself to assist Junli in his ascent.
Together, they labored against the weight of exhaustion, their efforts fueled by the shared goal of reaching safety.
After what felt like an eternity, Suyin was finally able to hoist Junli to safety, while Shao Feng followed closely behind, his own ascent marked by quiet determination and unwavering resolve.
With the ladder safely stowed beside a magnificent pink blossom tree, the trio made their way to Junli's bedroom, their footsteps echoing softly in the tranquil stillness of the night.
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As Junli lay upon the bed, his labored breaths echoed softly in the room, punctuated by the occasional droplets of sweat that trickled down his temples.
With a gentle touch, Suyin wiped away the sweat, her movements careful and deliberate as she tended to him with concern.
Beside the bed, a bowl of warm water lay within easy reach, a small comfort in the midst of Junli's discomfort. Suyin glanced at it briefly, silently grateful for the thoughtful gesture of the maid who had placed it there, no doubt in anticipation of Junli's return.
As she watched over him, a silent question lingered in Suyin's mind—should she seek assistance from Junli's female servant? The thought flickered briefly before she dismissed it, her resolve firm as she remained steadfast by Junli's side, determined to offer whatever aid she could.
"....Sir Feng Junli is the uncle of Jianhong," Shao Feng's words broke the silence, drawing Suyin's attention in an instant.
Her eyes widened in surprise, disbelief etched upon her features at the revelation. How could someone as kind and gentle as Junli be related to the tyrannical, erratic Jianhong?
"That makes them blood-related!" Suyin exclaimed, her shock palpable as she grappled with the implications of this newfound knowledge.
The stark contrast between the two men seemed unfathomable, leaving her struggling to reconcile the connection between them.
"Have you heard about the rumor about the Prince of Qin who executed the lady of Jianhong....?"
Shao Feng's inquiry pulled Suyin from her thoughts, prompting her to feign ignorance, her brow furrowing in a pretense of deep contemplation.
With a subtle gesture, she brought her index finger to her lips, as if pondering the question, before shaking her head in apparent confusion.
In truth, Suyin's mind raced with questions, her curiosity piqued by the mention of the Prince of Qin and the mysterious execution. Though she hailed from a distant territory, far removed from the political machinations of the Qin realm, the mention of such intrigue stirred a sense of intrigue within her, igniting a spark of curiosity that she struggled to contain.
"The Prince of Qin, with his regal stature and piercing gaze, had wielded his authority ruthlessly, even upon matters of the heart. He had ordered the execution of his former childhood lover, a woman whose eyes had once sparkled with affection for him, now dimmed by the shadow of death, all because of Jianhong's involvement. And Jianhong, that calculating figure lurking in the palace's corridors, had woven his web of deceit further, orchestrating the demise of his own brother-in-law, a respected general in the realm's army, succumbing to the venomous whispers of greed that poisoned his soul."
Shao Feng, a young child weathered beyond his years by the harsh winds of fate, recounted these tales with a furrowed brow, his fingers tentatively tracing the contours of his troubled mind.
"I only caught fragments of the whispers, fleeting echoes of palace gossip carried on the wind to the servants at Jianhong's place. They spoke of (Jianhong's) madness born from the loss of his wife."
Suyin, her gaze heavy with empathy, turned her attention to the child before her, his innocence a stark contrast to the darkness of his past. "Why, then, did you choose to serve under such a man, Shao Feng?"
The child's voice, frail yet resilient, trembled like a leaf caught in a storm.
"My mother lay bedridden, her frail form tethered to life by a thread. With no coin to spare and desperation gnawing at my soul, I beseeched the heavens for aid. It was Jianhong who extended his hand, a gesture veiled in false promises, offering me refuge within his home."
His words hung heavy in the air, a testament to the harsh reality he had endured. "But his charity was but a deceit, barely enough to fill my belly with stale bread, let alone ease my mother's suffering. It has been a year of toil and torment, each day a battle against hunger and hopelessness."
Suyin's heart swelled with compassion as she listened, her resolve strengthening with each passing moment.
"Fear not, Shao Feng. I shall not abandon you in your hour of need," she vowed, her gentle touch aiding his wounded spirit.
Taking her place beside Junli's bedside, Suyin's voice was a soft melody, gently coaxing him from the depths of slumber.
"Junli. Feng Junli," she whispered, her words a soothing caress upon his troubled soul.
"Shao Feng, can you help me undress him?"
Shao Feng hesitated, caught in the dilemma of allowing Suyin to see a naked man's body.
Despite the urgency of the situation, the societal norms ingrained in him since childhood whispered warnings against such impropriety. But with Suyin's earnest plea for assistance, he steeled himself, his determination outweighing the weight of societal judgment.
"I can help," he affirmed, his voice a quiet assurance amidst the chaos of their circumstances.
With careful coordination, Shao Feng positioned himself opposite Junli, a silent sentinel guarding the man's modesty as Suyin tended to his wounds.
The fabric of Junli's robes, once a symbol of his station, now stained with the crimson evidence of his suffering, yielded to Suyin's gentle touch, revealing the wounded canvas of his back to her discerning gaze.
"Junli, I'm going to clean your wound," Suyin murmured, her voice a soothing melody amidst the tension that hung heavy in the air.
Junli, weakened by pain yet strengthened by his resolve, met her gaze with gratitude etched upon his features.
"Forgive me for burdening you both," he murmured, his words a humble acknowledgment of the sacrifices they had made on his behalf.
"No need for apologies, Sir Junli," Shao Feng interjected, his voice a steadfast reassurance.
Amidst the solemnity of their task, the intrusion of approaching footsteps shattered the fragile tranquility of their sanctuary. Oblivious to the impending disruption, Suyin, Shao Feng, and Junli remained ensconced in their duties, their focus undeterred by the outside world's clamor.
"Is that you, young master?"
The voice, tinged with urgency, pierced through the veil of silence, heralding the arrival of an unexpected visitor.
In a flurry of movement, the door slid open, revealing Jiayi, her emotions ranging from concern to indignation.
The sight that greeted her eyes elicited a visceral reaction, her cheeks flushing crimson with a mixture of shock and anger.
"What in the heavens are you doing to the young master?!" Jiayi's accusation, sharp as a blade, sliced through the air, her voice a crescendo of disbelief and outrage.
Suyin recoiled from the unexpected assault, her cheek stinging from the force of Jiayi's slap.
Anger smoldered in her gaze, tempered only by the knowledge that her hands were occupied with a far more pressing matter.
Frustration simmered beneath the surface of Suyin's facade, a tempest restrained by the shackles of duty.
If not for the urgency of their task, she would have met Jiayi's aggression with equal force, her restraint a testament to the discipline instilled within her by years of servitude.
Junli's sudden eruption, his voice echoing with a gravity that demanded attention, sent ripples of astonishment through the room.
Suyin, taken aback by this unexpected display of authority from the typically reserved master, watched in stunned silence as Junli directed his rebuke towards Jiayi, his words a stark reminder of the power he wielded even in his weakened state.
"Jiayi! Have you forgotten your manners?!" His voice, tinged with a rare hint of frustration, carried a weight that Suyin had never witnessed before, a testament to the depths of his indignation.
Caught in the throes of confusion and embarrassment, Jiayi faltered, her earlier behavior melting away like snow beneath the sun's relentless gaze.
"But... but this person! I... I thought he was trying to hurt you!" she stammered her words a feeble attempt to justify her rash actions.
Unfazed by Jiayi's floundering attempts at explanation, Junli's gaze bore into her with an intensity that brooked no argument.
"These two are helping me, to alleviate the suffering inflicted upon me by my wounds," he declared, his voice a beacon of authority amidst the chaos that threatened to engulf them.
"Your negligence in attending to my injuries necessitated their intervention. It is you who owes them an apology."
Suyin, her hands deftly navigating the white towel over Junli's injured flesh, felt the sting of Jiayi's slap lingering upon her cheek like a bitter memory.
Despite the pain, she remained resolute in her task, unwilling to allow herself to be swayed by the petty squabbles that threatened to consume them.
And yet, amidst the tumult of emotions that swirled around them, Suyin realized with a start that she had forgotten her current guise, her disguise as a male servant slipping from her mind in the heat of the moment. A flicker of unease danced in the depths of her soul, a silent reminder of the delicate balance upon which their deception rested.
Jiayi, her face flushed with embarrassment and shame, knelt before Suyin, her head bowed in contrition.
"I... Jiayi wishes to offer her sincerest apologies to the savior," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze fixed firmly upon the ground in a display of penitence.
"Go fetch more water, towels, and wraps, if you can find them," she instructed, her tone clipped and authoritative.
Though the sting of Jiayi's slap lingered upon her cheek, Suyin brushed aside the discomfort, her thoughts consumed by the task at hand.
The need to tend to Junli's wounds, to avoid infection of his injury, eclipsed any concern for her own well-being. Jiayi, chastened by Suyin's commanding presence, rose from her position with a sense of purpose, her earlier embarrassment replaced by a newfound determination to rectify her mistakes.
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As the hours waned and the moon ascended its celestial throne, casting a shimmering veil of silver over the tranquil courtyard, Suyin found herself seated at the edge of the stone staircase, her gaze drawn upwards to the heavens above.
The night air was cool and crisp, carrying with it a sense of serenity that belied the tumultuous events that had transpired within the palace walls.
Beside her, the still waters of the pond glimmered with the ethereal light of the moon, each ripple a silent testament to the passage of time.
In the quiet of the night, with only the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets to accompany her thoughts, Suyin found solace in the embrace of the night sky, its boundless expanse a canvas upon which her dreams could take flight.
It was amidst this moment that Jiayi's voice shattered the silence, her words a tentative echo of remorse that hung heavy in the air.
Startled from her reverie, Suyin turned to face the contrite maid, her expression softened by a glimmer of understanding. "Jiayi apologize for her actions," she murmured, her voice tinged with regret. "I truly believed that you and Shao Feng posed a threat to Junli's safety."
Though the sting of Jiayi's slap still lingered upon her cheek, Suyin found herself unable to harbor ill will towards the maid, her sincerity evident in the earnestness of her apology. With a resigned sigh, she shook her head, her heart heavy with the weight of forgiveness.
"It's... it's all right," she conceded, her words a reluctant admission of absolution. Despite the lingering ache of her wounded pride, Suyin knew that harboring grudges would only serve to prolong the pain for both parties involved.
Jiayi, her head bowed in humility, offered a final bow of contrition before turning to leave, her footsteps echoing softly against the cobblestone path.
But as she glanced back over her shoulder, her gaze fell upon Suyin, and for a fleeting moment, a spark of recognition flickered in her eyes.
Suyin, caught off guard by the intensity of Jiayi's scrutiny, met her gaze with a sense of unease.
Suyin's brow furrowed in confusion as Jiayi's words washed over her, Suyin's hand instinctively rising to touch her face in search of any sign of distress.
The memory of her encounter with Jiayi and the other prisoners flooded back to her with startling clarity, a puzzle piece slotting into place within the labyrinth of her mind. "Is... is there something wrong with my face?" she ventured, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
Jiayi's eyes widened in realization, her shock palpable as she hurried to confront Suyin, her words tumbling forth in a torrent of apology and gratitude.
"You... you're Mr. Hero!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion as she bowed low before Suyin, her knees sinking into the soft earth beneath her. Suyin, taken aback by Jiayi's fervent display of reverence, attempted to deflect the praise, her laughter ringing hollow in the stillness of the night.
"No, no, you must be mistaken," she protested weakly, her heart pounding in her chest with the weight of her deception.
But Jiayi remained steadfast in her conviction, her eyes ablaze with the fervor of certainty. "I could never forget your face," she insisted, her voice a whispered plea for acknowledgment.
Caught in the throes of indecision, Suyin weighed her options carefully, her mind racing with the implications of Jiayi's revelation.
If she embraced her role as "Mr. Hero," she could leverage her newfound status to gather information about the rose-shaped key that had brought her to this city in the first place.
It was a risky gamble, with uncertainty and peril, but the promise of answers beckoned to her like a siren's song, irresistible in its allure.
Summoning her resolve, Suyin met Jiayi's gaze with a steely determination, her mask of indifference slipping into place like a second skin.
"Very well, if you insist," she conceded, her voice a whisper in the darkness. "But let us keep this between us for now. There are... matters that require my attention, and I cannot afford any distractions."
With a silent nod of agreement, Jiayi rose from her kneeling position, her eyes alight with newfound purpose. The stage was set, the pieces in motion, and Suyin knew that the role of "Mr. Hero" would be her key to unlocking the secrets that lay hidden within the heart of the city.
Suyin weighed the options in her mind, her thoughts swirling like leaves caught in a gust of wind. Clad in the guise of a man, navigating the maze of Jianhong's world seemed less treacherous, less fraught with the risk of exposure. The fabric of her borrowed identity hung loosely around her, a cloak of necessity shrouding her true self. "Please keep it a secret that I saved you from the brothel. I just couldn't handle it with the thought of all of the helpless women stuck in there like that." Suyin implored her voice a whisper .
Jiayi's eyes held a glimmer of gratitude, a flicker of hope in the darkness. "Jiayi owes her freedom to her mysterious savior," she murmured, her voice a delicate melody in the night's symphony. "But tell me, dear hero, what name shall I call you by?"
Suyin cursed inwardly, her mind scrambling for a suitable alias to cloak her actions.
"Shu," she declared, the syllables falling from her lips like a whispered secret. It was a feeble attempt at anonymity, a name she'd used as a nickname in the past.
Jiayi dipped into a graceful bow, her departure a ballet of fluid movement. Suyin watched her vanish into the shadows, a lone figure swallowed by the night's embrace.
Relief flooded her veins like a cool stream winding its way through parched earth.
With Jiayi's departure, Suyin exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
The weight of uncertainty settled upon her shoulders like a heavy cloak, its folds a reminder of the perilous journey ahead. But for now, she had a foothold, a starting point from which to unravel the tangled threads of figuring out where the rose-shaped key was located.
Her thoughts turned to Qin Fuhua, a beacon of light in the darkness of her solitude. With each passing moment, the urgency of her need to reassure him grew like a flame devouring dry tinder.
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Jianhong's greeting was as grandiose as his manor, his smile a beacon of false warmth illuminating the opulent surroundings.
Qin Fuhua, under the guise of Yi Tienzheng, reciprocated the gesture with practiced ease, masking the tumult of emotions roiling beneath the surface.
Qin Fuhua's master, a sage of clandestine wisdom, had bestowed upon him a rare gift: a mask as mysterious as the shadows it concealed.
Crafted with a precision that bordered on the arcane, it was more than a mere artifact; it was a talisman of anonymity, a shield against the prying eyes of those who would seek to unravel the threads of his true identity. It masked his true identity and gave him another one, which was Tienzheng, that he crafted a name and status for himself.
The Prince of Qin was a figure of both reverence and fear, his name whispered in hushed tones by those who dared to speak it.
To venture forth without the protection of his mask was to invite the wrath of enemies both known and unknown, to traverse a landscape fraught with peril at every turn.
To find her, to unravel the mystery of her disappearance, he would brave the tiger's den, heedless of the danger that lurked within its jaws.
The corridors of Jianhong's domain stretched like serpents' coils, winding their way towards a chamber adorned with a table set for two.
Qin Fuhua followed in Jianhong's wake, his steps measured, his senses attuned to the subtle currents of danger lurking in the shadows.
As Jianhong poured the rice wine, the pungent aroma wafted through the air, a tangible reminder of the precarious dance they were engaged in.
Qin Fuhua accepted the cup with a nod of gratitude, his fingers brushing against the cool porcelain with feigned nonchalance. He could smell the alcohol from the man's breath and knew that the crazy bastard was barely there.
"Indeed, our alliance remains steadfast," Jianhong declared, his words laden with implications that hung heavy in the air like the oppressive heat of midsummer.
Qin Fuhua offered a knowing smile, a mask of acquiescence concealing the storm of suspicion brewing within. As the cups met in a silent toast, he suppressed a shiver of revulsion at the taste of the rice wine.
Each swallow was a bitter reminder of the sacrifices he had made, the compromises he had been forced to endure in pursuit of his elusive quarry.
"Tienzheng. I wanted to tell you about your wife."
Jianhong's revelation hung in the air like a heavy fog, obscuring the truth with its murky tendrils.
Qin Fuhua's expression remained carefully neutral, a mask of calm indifference concealing the storm of emotions raging within.
He recognized the gambit for what it was—a test of loyalty, a trial by fire designed to probe the depths of his resolve.
"It seems to me that my beloved wife has gone missing for a while. Have you seen her by chance?"
His eyes flickered with a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability, a crack in the armor of his stoic facade. But he quickly composed himself, steeling his features against the onslaught of doubt that threatened to engulf him. "That's what I wanted to talk about," Jianhong lamented, his voice heavy with regret. "Your wife has betrayed you." Qin Fuhua's hand slammed against the table with a resounding thud, his voice a thunderclap of defiance in the suffocating silence that followed. "Nonsense!" he declared, his words a fervent denial of the accusations leveled against her. "She would never do that!"
"There were some men that followed her back and tried to attack her. They were aiming for you in reality instead of that lady... Suyin. I know that you've lived your whole life here secluded, but I'm sure your marriage was just a set up to keep an eye on things around in this town... especially after my wife..."
Jianhong's next words struck like a dagger aimed at the heart of his convictions, shattering the fragile illusion of trust that had bound him to his wife. "Your wife... did you know she was the spy for the Prince of Qin?" Qin Fuhua's mind reeled, grappling with the implications of Jianhong's revelation. Qin Fuhua forced himself to maintain the act, to play the part of the unwitting pawn in Jianhong's twisted game.
"Nonsense!!" He cried out, "She would never do that!"
He laughed, a hollow sound devoid of mirth, as he poured another glass of wine for Jianhong. "How wild can a little woman be?" he echoed, his words laced with bitter irony. "That's why you can not trust women at all and have them as your toy... correct?"
With each passing moment, Qin Fuhua's resolve solidified. He would play this dangerous game until the bitter end, his determination unwavering despite the risks that loomed on the horizon.
His gaze never wavered as he listened to Jianhong's ramblings, committing every word to memory, every inflection etched into his consciousness like a finely honed blade. And then came the question, hanging in the air like a dagger poised to strike.
"Your wife... did you know she was the spy for the Prince of Qin?" The words hung heavy between them, charged with the weight of betrayal and deceit.
Qin Fuhua's heart skipped a beat, though his outward demeanor remained calm and composed.
This was the moment he had been waiting for, the revelation that would shatter the fragile illusion of trust between them. With practiced precision, he feigned disbelief, his laughter ringing hollow in the stifling silence of the room.
But beneath the mask of amusement, Qin Fuhua's mind raced, piecing together the fragments of information he had gathered, weaving them into a tapestry of deception that would serve his purposes well.
He poured another glass of wine, the liquid shimmering like rubies in the dim light, a crimson reflection of the blood that stained his hands.
And then, as if to punctuate the charade, he spoke again, his voice laced with false bravado.
"Tomorrow, we set off to the brothel! I will treat my brother and myself well to the ladies there!"