The night in Yingzhou was dyed a deep crimson by a blood-red moon.
Shen Shuangren’s slender, orchid-like fingers rested lightly on the man’s thick neck, her fingertips registering the uniquely cold, clammy feel of a corpse.
She held her breath, focusing intently for the span of three heartbeats—no pulse whatsoever.
The light of the Blood Moon slanted through the carved window lattice, illuminating a faint glint of cold light at the back of the man’s neck.
A three-inch silver needle was almost completely buried in the layer of fat, leaving only a pearl the size of a grain of rice at its end, shimmering with an eerie blue glow under the moonlight.
She released her hand, gasping for air, but the burning heat within her grew even more intense.
“You old beast… you actually dared to drug me with ‘Spring Night Once’!”
Gritting her teeth, she rolled off the deceased, her legs so weak she could barely stand.
Outside the window, the Blood Moon hung like a bloodshot eye, coldly watching the mortal world.
Shen Shuangren knew this eerie moonlight would last the entire night—a celestial phenomenon seen once in a thousand years, and the moment she had meticulously chosen for the kill.
Forcing herself to tidy the scene, she retrieved the silver needle into a specially concealed pouch in her sleeve, then took out a silk handkerchief to carefully wipe the puncture wound on the side of the deceased’s neck.
The needle was coated with “Green Gu Poison,” lethal upon contact with blood and leaving no trace after death.
This was the skill she had honed over three years—killing without a trace.
The deceased was none other than the Prefect of Yingzhou, Qian Yu.
His court robes still hung neatly on the screen, and the memorial spread open on the desk bore ink that had yet to dry.
Shen Shuangren caught sight of the words “Canal Transport Deficits” and curled her lips into a cold smile.
How many lives would this memorial cost?
“Your Excellency?”
A cautious inquiry suddenly came from outside the door. “Do you need hot water?”
Shen Shuangren’s breath hitched.
She quickly scanned the room, her gaze settling on the half-open carved window.
“Unnecessary,” she lowered her voice, mimicking Qian Yu’s coarse, raspy tone. “I am retiring for the night. No one is to disturb me.”
“Yes.”
Footsteps gradually faded away.
Shen Shuangren let out a sigh of relief but was struck by a wave of dizziness.
That damned drug… She bit her tongue, using the pain to stay alert.
She had to leave as quickly as possible. The Qian Residence was heavily guarded; once discovered…
Staggering to the window, the night breeze brushed against her feverish cheeks.
Three stories high—on a normal day, she could leap down and land safely with a single bound.
But now…
The heat within her suddenly intensified, her legs giving way as she nearly collapsed.
Shen Shuangren gripped the window lattice tightly, her nails almost digging into the wood.
Taking a deep breath, she climbed onto the windowsill and leaped—
The wind whistled past her ears. As she landed, she barely managed to adjust her posture but still crashed heavily into the garden’s shrubbery.
Sharp branches tore through her clothes, leaving streaks of blood on her skin.
The pain brought a temporary clarity to her mind.
“Who goes there?” a guard’s shout echoed from the distance.
Shen Shuangren had no time to check her injuries. She rolled to her feet and moved swiftly, using the shadows of the garden’s rockery for cover.
She had long memorized the layout of the Qian Residence—the eastern side gate, where the guards were weakest.
The Blood Moon hung overhead, providing an eerie illumination for her escape.
Like an injured cat, she nimbly scaled several low walls, avoiding the patrolling guards.
But the effects of the drug grew stronger within her. Her vision began to blur, and her legs felt as if they were filled with lead.
Finally, the eastern side gate was within reach.
Shen Shuangren held her breath, hiding behind an osmanthus tree to observe.
Only two guards were there, yawning and chatting idly.
She pulled out two copper coins, gathered her remaining inner strength, and flung them in opposite directions.
“Who’s there?” The guard turned around alertly.
Now! Shen Shuangren swept past like a shadow, vaulting over the courtyard wall before they could look back.
The icy night wind struck her face—she had finally escaped the Qian Residence.
But the danger was far from over—Yingzhou was under curfew, and the streets were filled with patrolling soldiers.
And her current condition…
Shen Shuangren gritted her teeth and hurried along the narrow alley.
She had to return to the inn as quickly as possible. There was no antidote for ‘Spring Breeze Once’; the only cure was to be with someone…
But if she didn’t neutralize the poison, her life would be in danger.
As she turned a street corner, her legs suddenly gave way, and she braced herself against the wall to keep from falling.
The Blood Moon hung in the sky, the night as dark as ink.
At the corner tea stall, Nan Yanxiu sat alone at a table, clad in dark brocade robes. His slender fingers lightly tapped the teacup as he lifted his gaze to the eerie red moon in the sky.
The moonlight, like blood, poured down, casting a dark crimson halo around his silhouette. His features were as exquisite as a painting, yet carried a dangerous, languid air.
He raised the teacup, about to take a sip, when suddenly—
A figure in moon-white robes swept past like a startled swan, carrying a faint scent of orchids. She snatched the teacup from his hand and drank it all in one gulp.
Nan Yanxiu raised an eyebrow slightly and looked up.
Under the Blood Moon, Shen Shuangren’s skin was as fair as jade, tinged with a faint blush from the drug’s effects. Her usually cool eyes now shimmered like spring water, the corners slightly red, carrying a hint of confusion and defiance.
Tea stains still lingered on her lips, glistening under the moonlight with a tempting sheen.
The red moon, white robes, and dark attire intertwined into a bewitching, unparalleled painting.
Nan Yanxiu’s eyes darkened slightly, a faint, elusive curve lifting the corner of his lips. “Miss, you…”
Only then did Shen Shuangren snap back to her senses and look down at the man before her—
Clad in dark robes with ink-black hair, he was as handsome as an immortal, yet carried a sharp, formidable edge.
His eyes were as deep as an abyss, and under the glow of the Blood Moon, they seemed capable of captivating one’s soul.
Their gazes met, and for a moment, the air seemed to freeze.
Yet, the effects of the drug surged violently within her at that moment. Shen Shuangren’s breath hitched, her fingertips trembling slightly.
She bit down hard on her lower lip, trying to use the pain to clear her mind, but the man’s face before her grew increasingly alluring—
His lips were thin and cool, slightly parted as if smiling yet not, silently inviting her to sink into oblivion.
The moment her rationality snapped, she could no longer control herself. She leaned forward abruptly and pressed her lips to his.
Her lips were scorching hot, carrying the scent of tea and a faint trace of blood, like a flame that instantly ignited the dark currents deep within his blood.
He should have pushed her away—a woman of unknown origin, clearly afflicted with a lust poison, should have no connection to him.
Yet his hand moved against his will, gripping the back of her neck. His slender fingers tangled in her loose black hair, pulling her closer.
Her breathing grew rapid, her tongue unconsciously grazing the seam of his lips like a fish thirsting for water.
Nan Yanxiu’s eyes darkened abruptly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he finally allowed himself to pry open her teeth and deepen the kiss.
Under the Blood Moon, his rationality crumbled inch by inch.
Her taste was sweeter, more lethal than he had imagined.
He was like a traveler drinking poison to quench his thirst, knowing it was toxic yet savoring it willingly.
Shen Shuangren felt the world spin around her. The heat within her was momentarily soothed by his presence, only to be stirred into even more turbulent waves by his plunder.
His lips and tongue were scorching hot, carrying a crisp pinewood fragrance that intertwined with the tea scent lingering between her lips and teeth, giving her a dizzying illusion of falling into mist and clouds.
Her fingers unconsciously tightened around the collar of his robe, her fingertips nearly digging into his skin.
She could feel the powerful heartbeat beneath his chest, thudding one after another, sending tremors through her palm.
In the distance, the night watchman’s clapper sounded, piercingly clear in the silent night.
Nan Yanxiu abruptly jolted awake, gripping her wrist and pushing her slightly away.
His breathing was heavy, his eyes churning with undiminished desire. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke in a terrifyingly low, hoarse voice, “Do you know what you’re doing?”
Shen Shuangren’s gaze was unfocused, her lips flushed crimson like blood from their earlier friction.
She let out a low, soft laugh, her voice tinged with a hazy rasp, “I know… I’m drinking poison to quench my thirst.”
In her heart, she thought to herself that if the poison of “Spring Night Once” remained unresolved, her life might be in danger.
Though the man before her was dangerous, he was still someone she could deem worthy—dressed in black robes with ink-dark hair, his features sharp as a blade, even his breath carrying the oppressive aura of one in power.
Not a loss…
Nan Yanxiu stared at her for a moment, his gaze sliding from the reddened corners of her eyes to her slightly swollen lips, the dark tide in his eyes deepening further.
Suddenly, he swept her up into his arms and strode toward the carriage waiting in the shadows.
“Back to the Courier Station.”
He gave the order coldly to the coachman, his voice strained to the extreme with suppressed hoarseness, as if speaking one more word would shatter his rationality completely.
Shen Shuangren nestled in his embrace, her cheek pressed against his chest, able to clearly feel the tension in his muscles.
As the night breeze brushed past, she shivered slightly, and Nan Yanxiu immediately tightened his arms, holding her closer.
Inside the carriage, Shen Shuangren leaned weakly against him, waves of heat surging through her body one after another, burning her consciousness into a haze.
Unconsciously, she nuzzled against the side of his neck, her lips brushing over the prominent curve of his Adam’s apple.
Nan Yanxiu’s eyes darkened abruptly as he lowered his head and captured her lips, swallowing this unfinished provocation whole.
The carriage sped onward, rumbling over the bluestone-paved road, heading in the direction of the Yingzhou Courier Station.
The Blood Moon hung high in the sky, the night at its deepest.