In the bamboo grove, Shen Xi stepped forward steadily, drawing a feathered arrow from her quiver in one fluid motion. Her slender fingers rested lightly on the bowstring; the moment she pulled it taut, her arm muscles tensed, radiating strength.
Whoosh—the sharp arrow flew from the string like a streak of black lightning slicing through the air, whistling as it sped straight toward its target.
It pierced clean through the throat of a pheasant feeding on tender bamboo shoots thirty paces away. The white feathers at the arrow’s tail trembled slightly, but the bird had already fallen fluttering to the ground, motionless.
“Oh my—how bloody! You scared me to death!” Yuan Zhilan, standing nearby, covered her mouth and stepped back half a pace before turning to Yun Zhao, her voice taking on an exaggeratedly timid lilt: “Your Highness—I’m a little frightened.”
As she spoke, she edged subtly closer to him, the hem of her dress brushing against his boots.
“Are you out of your mind?” The words burst from Shen Xi’s lips, clear and sharp as ice dropped into warm water.
“I’m here hunting, and you’re over here making a nuisance of yourself. Why don’t you go sit somewhere else? Save us both the bother.”
Yuan Zhilan nearly jumped in shock, her eyes wide with outrage: “Y-you dare speak to me like that?!”
Born into a noble family, she had never been spoken to so bluntly—let alone in front of Yun Zhao. Flushed with anger and embarrassment, her cheeks burned bright red.
Shen Xi paid no heed to her expression, propping her bow against her arm as she raised an eyebrow: “Did I say something wrong? If you want to play the delicate noble lady, do it elsewhere. Don’t get in the way and ruin everyone’s work.”
Her words were rough but true, each one striking at Yuan Zhilan’s weakest spot. Everyone knew Yuan Zhilan was fiercely competitive, yet here she was feigning fragility for Yun Zhao’s benefit. Now that she had been exposed, she was so mortified she could have dug a hole in the ground with her toes.
“Shen Xi! You’re going too far!” Yuan Zhilan could hold back no longer, her voice thick with tears as she looked desperately at Yun Zhao. “Your Highness—she’s simply being…”
Shen Xi shook her head in exasperation. While Yuan Jingxian had cunning and poise, this younger sister was shockingly foolish—she required no careful strategy to handle, as she was so single-minded it was almost absurd…
“If Second Miss Yuan is unwell, you may rest nearby,” Yun Zhao said, his voice quiet but cutting through the tension like ice thrown into boiling water, instantly dousing all of Yuan Zhilan’s grievances and bluster.
Yuan Zhilan’s tears caught in her throat, as if someone had squeezed it shut.
She stared at Yun Zhao’s calm face—his eyes held no trace of sympathy, not even a flicker of emotion. It was as if her distress was nothing more than dust beneath his notice.
“I…” She tried to speak, but her throat felt tight. In the end, she said: “I’ll stay with you both.”
At this, Shen Xi nearly choked on her own saliva. She had seen thick skin before, but never this thick—even after being all but told to leave, the girl still insisted on tagging along.
Glancing at Yuan Zhilan, who had red-rimmed eyes but held her chin high, clearly determined to stay, Shen Xi sneered inwardly. So she’s decided to cling to Yun Zhao, has she?
Yun Zhao showed no reaction, only giving a quiet “Hmm” of assent as he continued walking deeper into the grove without pausing.
Seeing this, Yuan Zhilan hurried after him, deliberately positioning herself on his other side, half a step away from Shen Xi—like a peacock staking its territory.
Shen Xi shot a glance at Yuan Zhilan’s “closer to the source, better the chance” posture and found it amusing. She slowed her pace to fall half a step behind them, slinging her bow over her arm as she watched with leisurely interest. I’d like to see how long she can keep this up in front of Yun Zhao.
A breeze moved through the grove, rustling the bamboo leaves.
Yuan Zhilan tried several times to make conversation, only to be shut down by Yun Zhao’s sparse replies.
“Your Highness—look how well these bamboos grow! It’s rare to see them so thick and sturdy.”
“Hmm.”
“I hear the bamboo garden at your residence is magnificent. Might I have the honor of visiting someday?”
“No.”
After just a few exchanges, Yuan Zhilan’s composure was faltering, her steps slowing. Seizing the opportunity, Shen Xi caught up to walk alongside Yun Zhao, raising her voice deliberately: “Your Highness—that sparse bamboo patch ahead looks promising. There might be hares hiding there—should we take a look?”
“Very well.”
At this clear “Very well,” Yuan Zhilan’s face darkened instantly, fury flaring up inside her… Why does Yun Zhao agree so readily to whatever Shen Xi suggests? I spoke so politely to him for ages, and all I got was a cold “No”!
Watching Yuan Zhilan’s furious expression, Shen Xi could barely hold back her laughter.
That’s just how Yun Zhao is—no matter how much you say, he’ll only ever reply with a few words.
She remembered meeting him in the hunting grounds in her past life. Seeing him alone in the woods, she had been seized by a whim and waved her bow at him, asking if he wanted her to hunt a rabbit for him to eat. He hadn’t even looked up, only growling two words from his throat: “Pointless.”
At the time, young and hot-headed, she had been infuriated by those words and shot back defiantly: “Pointless? I’ll hunt a deer taller than you are—then we’ll see if you still say it’s pointless!”
In the end, she had found no deer, but had torn a huge hole in her dress skirt. As she was fretting over the damage, she had heard a soft snort of amusement from above her head.
Now it’s Yuan Zhilan’s turn, she thought, and had to stifle a laugh.
Yuan Zhilan followed close behind, stamping heavily on the fallen leaves with crunch sounds as if venting her anger. When they reached the sparse bamboo patch, she saw Shen Xi bending down to examine tracks on the ground. Deliberately stamping her foot hard, she startled a gray shape from the undergrowth.
“Ah—a hare!” Shen Xi’s eyes lit up, but before she could nock an arrow, Yuan Zhilan had already raised her bow, crying out: “I’ll get it!”
But she fumbled with the bow for so long that she couldn’t steady her aim, and the hare vanished without a trace.
Watching her fluster, Shen Xi sighed deliberately: “Yuan Zhilan—with all that noise you’re making, you’ve probably scared off every hare within ten miles.”
Already simmering with anger, Yuan Zhilan snapped at this: “What do you mean by that? I just wasn’t ready!”
Shen Xi straightened up, twirling a fallen bamboo leaf between her fingertips with a faintly mocking smile at the corner of her eye: “Wasn’t ready? You seemed plenty ready to stamp on those leaves hard enough to crack the ground.”
Yuan Zhilan’s cheeks burned bright red as she gripped her bow so tightly her knuckles turned white: “I’ll do as I please! Besides, you’ve been examining those tracks for ages—have you found anything?”
Shen Xi suddenly tilted her head toward Yuan Zhilan’s back, lowering her voice: “Turn around and look.”
Suspicious, Yuan Zhilan turned—and there, just a few steps away in a hazel thicket, leaves were rustling down to reveal a brown creature with perked ears peering out. Its round body was hidden in the shadows—it was the very hare that had fled moments ago.
Whoosh—an arrow shot through the air with a sharp whistle, embedding itself in the tree trunk just beside the hare, its feathers humming with vibration.
Yuan Zhilan saw only a flash before the arrow flew almost past her temple. Her hair stood on end in terror; her bow clattered to the ground as she stumbled back half a pace and fell sitting on the dirt.
Shen Xi had been about to draw her bow, but realized Yun Zhao had already acted first. “Your Highness shoots without regard for order,” she said. “If you’d been half an inch off, this grove would have seen blood that shouldn’t be spilled.”
Still shaken, Yuan Zhilan reached up to touch the stray strands of hair by her ear, her fingertips trembling: “Y-your Highness! Why didn’t you say something before shooting?”
Yun Zhao emerged from behind a tree, his dark robes brushing through the undergrowth with a chill in his wake. He paid no attention to Yuan Zhilan’s pale face, only lowering his eyes to brush dust from the arrow feathers with his fingertips—his movements efficient and devoid of emotion.
“Speaking would have meant missing,” he said, his voice as cold as ice, sharper than the whistle of the arrow through the air. “As for precision—I know what I’m doing.”
As he passed the hare, he flicked his foot casually to send it tumbling in front of the two women, the gesture carrying an almost indifferent generosity.
“Take it,” he said—the two words landing heavily on the ground, harder than the sound of his arrow striking the tree trunk.