The master had just returned to the residence, and the Eastern Palace was brightly lit.
Nangong Yi was having his evening meal.
Song Yao accompanied him nearby, her mind filled with questions she wanted to ask, yet she knew this wasn’t the right time. She patiently waited.
Remembering something, she beckoned a maid over and instructed, “Prepare the bathwater. His Highness will bathe later.”
“Yes,” the maid acknowledged, leading others away to make preparations.
Born of imperial nobility, Nangong Yi’s every movement during meals was a pleasure to behold. However, perhaps due to his military background, he ate somewhat faster than other nobles.
But for some reason, he was slower tonight than usual, though he soon quickened his pace again. His mood seemed to have improved noticeably.
After the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Nangong Yi finished his meal.
He led Song Yao away from the dining hall, openly taking her hand along the way and boldly inviting, “Will Furen accompany this lonely one?”
Song Yao: “?”
Accompany him? Accompany him in what? Bathing?… Well, that could work too.
Eager to be alone with Nangong Yi to ask about Nangong Zhe’s matters, she nodded without overthinking and made a request:
“Just the two of us, what does Your Highness think?”
Focused entirely on serious matters, Song Yao didn’t realize what her words implied, but the group of people behind them certainly thought otherwise.
The pink-clad maids all blushed and lowered their heads, embarrassed by their master’s bold words.
Even Granny Rong’s old face flushed red, though she was quite pleased to see this development. Excellent, excellent! This is exactly how young couples should be!
Nangong Yi chuckled softly and pinched the woman’s fingertip. “As Furen wishes.”
A quarter hour later.
The two stood bare before each other, immersed in the luxurious bath pool constructed of jade stones. Mist curled and swirled above the water like a fairyland,
Fresh petals picked daily bloomed upon the water’s surface, vibrant and dazzling.
Song Yao: “Your Highness, does His Majesty… know that what happened to the Sixth Prince was your doing?”
Nangong Yi: “Mm.” His handsome face, damp with water, rested against the woman’s shoulder and neck, like a fierce beast nestling against its mate to rest.
The usual ferocity he displayed outwardly had vanished. Though he still appeared as a formidable presence, there was a deceptive impression of gentleness and complete lack of aggression.
Song Yao: “Then, will troops continue patrolling the city in the coming days? This humble servant has heard the common people are quite fearful about this. The curfew too – it seems to have caused much inconvenience to the people.”
Nangong Yi curled his lips, his voice unchanged: “The matter of the Sixth Prince will be settled tomorrow morning. His Majesty will withdraw those troops by the day after tomorrow at the latest. The curfew might continue a few more days for appearances’ sake.”
“Why is Yao Yao suddenly concerned about these matters? Do you need to go out?”
Song Yao had her back to Nangong Yi. At this moment, her beautiful eyes flickered with guilt. Uncertain how much Nangong Yi knew of her secrets,
Complete denial wouldn’t do, nor would direct admission. So she found a middle ground, answering with half-truths.
“It’s not that I need to go out, but this humble servant owns several shops that do business in the night market. If the curfew lasts too long, I’m worried the shops’ business will be affected.”
Turning around, she placed her hands on the man’s shoulders, simultaneously changing the subject: “By the way, aside from reprimanding you, did His Majesty impose any other punishments? Are you injured anywhere, husband? Let this humble servant see.”
Without waiting for Nangong Yi’s response, she began examining him all over, touching here and there with the appearance of a deeply concerned and gentle wife.
Nangong Yi cooperated quite well, such a tall and large man obediently letting Song Yao touch him. Watching the Crown Princess who pretended to be busy, his pitch-black, bottomless phoenix eyes concealed well-hidden amusement.
That night, the bedchamber’s lights were extinguished.
A faint, refreshing cold fragrance emanated from Song Yao’s thin dress, permeating the air—soothing to the senses, lulling one unknowingly into slumber.
Not long after, Song Yao opened her eyes.
She slipped out of Nangong Yi’s embrace, changed her attire, and left the Eastern Palace alone. Half the rear courtyard had been under her control since their marriage.
Nangong Yi never interfered or questioned her affairs, so leaving the Eastern Palace without alerting his people wasn’t difficult.
Wangdu City was divided into four markets: east, south, west, and north. Investigations revealed several strongholds in Changle Quarter, with the main one located in the remote northeast corner of the West Market. The two-story songhouse was inconspicuous in the city.
Patrolling soldiers generally didn’t investigate deeply, as such songhouses were commonplace in the city. The women inside sold artistry, not their bodies—earning silver through singing and dancing wasn’t illegal in Da Yuan.
With the curfew in effect tonight, the entire Wangdu City was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by sporadic lantern lights carried by patrolling soldiers and night watchmen.
The songhouse couldn’t open for business. The two-story building stood dark, with only a faint candle glow from one room on the second floor.
Though the candlelight was dim, the room gathered over a dozen men and women—women dressed as songstresses, men as attendants. Under the flickering candlelight, each had fierce, ruthless eyes, unlike decent folk.
“What should we do now?” asked a young man with a scarred face, outwardly hired as the songhouse’s bouncer.
“Of course, we avenge our master! He showed us immense kindness—we can’t let his death go unpunished!” declared a gaudily dressed songstress, tears in her eyes.
Others echoed in agreement, all vowing to avenge their master, Nangong Zhe.
Only the scarred young man remained grim-faced and unwilling. “How do we avenge him? His death couldn’t have been simple—those assassins must have been backed by powerful figures.”
Fearful of imperial authority, he didn’t speak too plainly, muttering vaguely with trembling lips.
“The struggles of those powerful figures aren’t for us to meddle in. We’d better…”
The tearful songstress interrupted, glaring angrily, “Better what? What’s stopping us? Our master raised us because we’re useful!
We can seek refuge with other princes. As long as one is willing to avenge our master, we’ll gladly serve as his vanguard…”
Suddenly, successive thuds echoed through the room. Over a dozen men and women collapsed to the floor one after another—some lying prone, others half-kneeling while propping themselves up on chairs or tables.
Realizing something was wrong, they tried to cry out for help, but upon opening their mouths, found their throats unbearably sore and itchy, capable of only emitting faint, negligible sounds.
The door opened and closed. A ghostly figure appeared before the crowd. The slight breeze from the door made the half-burned candle on the table flicker even more violently.
Song Yao, clad in black blending into the night, held a cold-gleaming longsword. She slit each throat methodically—one cut per person, steady, precise, and ruthless. Every strike was fatal.
Under the wildly flickering candlelight, the green-faced, fanged mask on her face appeared extremely ferocious and terrifying, like the King of Hell coming to claim lives in the night. Silently, she took over a dozen lives.
“Sp-spare me! I… I’ll submit and kill…”
Song Yao looked up and recognized the scar-faced man with divided loyalties. A faint smile curved her lips as she swung her sword before he could utter the organization’s name.
“You know too much.” Such knowledge made him unfit to live.
By the time Song Yao eliminated the last target, reinforcements from other Chang Lefang strongholds had arrived. They stared blankly at the corpses littering the ground, never expecting their master to personally intervene.
Seated by the window, Song Yao held a sword whose tip still glistened with fresh blood. Her eyes behind the fanged mask swept over the newcomers as she gestured with her blade toward the variedly posed corpses.
“Have them return to their quarters to rest. Then torch this building before we retire for the night.”
Her gaze shifted to the nearby rouge shop and clothing store flanking the songhouse, adding a reminder: “Exercise caution. Don’t let innocent fish get caught in our pond.”
“As you command.”
Led by Huai Qing, several slender figures in black bowed respectfully before sheathing their swords and efficiently clearing the aftermath.