It was night.
Song Shiwei suffered from insomnia, her slender body leaning against the head of the bed as her gaze crossed the window lattice to meet the distant bright moon.
The candlelight flickered gently, and Song Shiwei wore an unfathomable expression. She vaguely felt as though something inside her body was about to break past all containment, a surge of impulse. She knew neither the cause of this impulse, nor whom it was directed toward, nor the consequences it would bring.
She could only suppress it. Fortunately, she had always excelled at endurance.
She thought this with a measure of relief, yet her heart felt heavy and dull.
It should not have been like this.
A sense of grievance arose out of nowhere.
It was unclear and indescribable.
Song Shiwei felt that she must have fallen ill.
A very, very severe illness.
She stared blankly out the window, a desolate smile touching her exquisite face.
In the dead of night, it looked somewhat chilling.
Shen Yu! Why did you have to come back?
A crystal-clear tear tracked across her face, though regrettably, no one was there to wipe it away.
Idiot!
You absolute idiot!
Stupid, stupid idiot!
She curled up helplessly in the bedding, her gaze fixed stubbornly on the moon outside as her tears soaked the quilt in large, spreading patches.
Song Shiwei bit her lip hard, pressing down the grief in the depths of her heart bit by bit.
Her expression was one of fierce struggle, her eye rims chillingly red.
This was destined to be a sleepless night.
Meanwhile, Shen Yu, resting in another quarter, was also a long time falling asleep.
Not because of Song Shiwei, though.
Rather, it was because of what happened earlier.
After finishing the beggar’s chicken with Song Shiwei, the two of them had taken a stroll together to walk off the meal.
The breeze of the imperial capital carried the faint scent of rouge.
Countless stars studded the sky, twinkling as they cast a pristine white glow over the earth.
Silvery brilliance covered the ground.
They walked along a secluded path.
Neither of them was particularly talkative, and the Grand Princess certainly would not lower herself to make idle chatter. As for Shen Yu, at any rate, she felt this was quite nice. Even though they were not talking, it did not feel particularly awkward either.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the faint smile lingering at the corners of Song Shiwei’s mouth.
A trace of satisfaction inevitably welled up in her heart.
Even her steps grew much lighter.
The two of them walked in silence, the gentle moonlight spilling over their shoulders, their skirt hems, and their footsteps.
Pure and tender.
Until the commotion in the distance caught Shen Yu’s attention.
“Tsk!”
“This is way too tragic!”
“Eh? Brother! What happened? Tell me about it, won’t you?”
Shen Yu quietly led Song Shiwei to mingle among the crowd. Amidst the surrounding clamor, Shen Yu unconsciously tightened her grip on Song Shiwei’s hand.
“Your Highness, stay close. Do not get separated.”
In the noisy crowd, Shen Yu’s voice was slightly distorted, sounding somewhat hazy and dreamlike.
Her palm was warm as she held it and led the way ahead, resembling a soft, yellowish beam of light.
She carefully squeezed her way through the bustling crowd, carving out a pocket of space for Song Shiwei.
Her eyebrows carried a gentle smile, and her gaze toward Song Shiwei was as clear as a sparkling stream.
Yet very soon, her smile froze on her face.
Her gaze darkened as she looked dead ahead into the center of the encircled crowd.
Blood.
Bright red blood, dazzling to the eyes.
And the owner of that pool of blood was precisely the person Shen Yu had seen not long ago: Chu Fang.
Chu Fang was dead.
His throat had been slit, and he was still wearing the uniform of the imperial guards.
Fresh blood bubbled continuously from that gash.
Chu Fang’s eyes were pointed directly in Shen Yu’s direction. Across the crowd, she could seemingly see those wide-open eyes staring right toward her.
He had died with his grievances unredressed.
In those eyes, there still seemed to linger confusion, incomprehension, and unwillingness.
Almost simultaneously, acting on pure reflex, she covered Song Shiwei’s eyes with her hand and pulled her into an embrace.
Song Shiwei let out a soft gasp before being enveloped by the fragrance of green bamboo.
She hadn’t even seen what was going on yet!
“Shen Lan! You…”
“Your Highness, let us go back.”
Shen Yu cut off Song Shiwei’s question, then brooked no argument as she inexplicably swept Song Shiwei out of the crowd and walked briskly away.
Song Shiwei was practically leaning against Shen Yu’s chest as she was forcefully hauled out, even though Shen Yu’s movements were very gentle.
Song Shiwei was still furious.
She abruptly broke free from Shen Yu’s embrace, her jade face flushing with a rare, delicate red of anger and embarrassment, whether from fury or exertion, it was hard to tell.
She didn’t even know what she was mad at.
She glared fiercely, yet for a long time could not find the words to speak.
The atmosphere froze once more, becoming suffocatingly tense.
Shen Yu suddenly felt a groundless wave of irritation. She knitted her brows tightly as she looked at Song Shiwei, who was suppressing an inexplicable anger, wishing she could swat her away like an annoying fly.
The moonlight was as cool and thin as water.
Song Shiwei heard her say:
“The night is late; Your Highness should return first.”
With that, she even offered a bow. The moment she lowered her head, her peripheral vision glanced at the carriage hidden in the shadows, and without caring about Song Shiwei’s expression, she turned and strode away without looking back.
The moonlight outlined her carefree figure, devoid of the slightest bit of lingering attachment.
After all, this was beneath the feet of the Son of Heaven; Song Shiwei would not encounter any trouble.
Song Shiwei watched that receding figure until it vanished into the night, only then seeming to catch the sound of a disgruntled murmur carried on the wind.
“Such a foul temper.”
Away from Song Shiwei, even the air felt much freer.
Shen Yu sat casually in the fork of an ancient tree, her posture devoid of any proper form.
Crossing her legs, she watched the hustle and bustle unfolding below.
Yes, she had come back.
And arriving right along with her were the local authorities.
She formed a minor incantation seal to better conceal her presence.
Watching the prone form of Chu Fang, a frosty glint flashed across her light-hearted face before vanishing as quickly as it came.
This was a death targeted specifically at her.
Shen Yu knew this with absolute clarity and understanding.
Chu Fang was merely a pitiful pawn.
The mastermind’s true target was herself.
Yet why?
Why was it her?
Could it be that the original Shen Lan had offended someone in the past?
Yet what kind of person could possess such capability?
In this world abandoned by the Dao laws, who was it that had practiced such skills?
Shen Yu pondered, her brain working at lightning speed.
Late into the night, the crowd gradually dispersed, except for the yamen officials who remained behind to gather evidence and clean up the scene.
Shen Yu did not leave either, watching quietly while lowering her gaze as if weighing something in her mind.
Truth be told, she felt a slight twinge of regret.
Just a tiny bit, though.