The faint light of dawn crept in, and the rain outside the window had ceased at some unknown hour, leaving only the dripping sound from the eaves—each drop seeming to strike directly at Nan Yanxiu’s heart.
On the bed, Shen Shuangren slept deeply, her long hair scattered across the pillow, with traces of last night’s frenzy still lingering on her snow-white shoulders and neck.
Her breathing was even, her brows relaxed, as if she had merely experienced an ordinary dream, rather than the desperate entanglement with him under the influence of the intoxicating incense.
Nan Yanxiu stood by the bedside, his gaze dark as he watched her, his knuckles unconsciously tightening.
He had lost control once again.
The aphrodisiac incense from the Western Regions, he could still suppress with his inner strength; the seductive schemes of enemy assassins, he could observe with cold detachment.
Yet, faced with this woman—
No, she didn’t even need to deliberately tempt him. His body seemed to recognize its master, sinking into her without the control of reason.
This thought made his eyes turn cold, and an indescribable anger surged within him.
When had he, Nan Yanxiu, ever been led by the nose by a woman?
“Yue Linyan,” he murmured the name softly, as if grinding the three characters between his teeth.
Three months ago, on the night of the Blood Moon, she had clung to him in a daze, her scorching breath spraying against the side of his neck, like a dying beast—fragile yet stubborn.
That night, he could have ignored her, but as if possessed, he had undone his own robes.
And tonight, he had repeated the same mistake.
Dark tides churned in Nan Yanxiu’s eyes as he reached out to stroke her cheek, his thumb pressing heavily against her slightly swollen lips.
“Who are you, really?” Why did she make him break his vows again and again? Why did she drive him to such loss of control?
Outside the window, the wind howled mournfully, as if mocking his disheveled state.
He pinched her chin, not too hard but with enough force to startle her awake from her slumber.
Shen Shuangren’s eyelashes fluttered lightly as she slowly opened her eyes, meeting his deep, ink-black gaze.
“…Your Highness?”
Her voice was slightly hoarse, carrying a hint of the laziness of waking, yet without a trace of panic, as if she had long expected him to be there.
Nan Yanxiu stared into her eyes and said coldly, “Who are you, really?”
Shen Shuangren smiled faintly, her fingertips brushing against his wrist as if to push him away, yet also seeming to tease. “Didn’t I already tell Your Highness last night?”
Nan Yanxiu’s eyes darkened, his knuckles tightening slightly, forcing her to lift her face.
He leaned in abruptly, his nose almost touching hers. “Don’t play dumb with me.”
His breath was scorching, yet his tone was as cold as ice. “Vice Minister Zhao’s death, and the love poison on your body… Do you really think I can’t uncover the truth?”
Shen Shuangren winced in pain but still wore a smile, the corners of her eyes lifting with a hint of provocation. “Has Your Highness not figured it out after investigating for so long?”
Nan Yanxiu stared into her eyes, trying to find even a trace of panic.
There was none.
Her gaze was too candid, even carrying a hint of mockery, as if laughing at his futile efforts.
Nan Yanxiu’s eyes grew darker.
Too perfect.
All the evidence fit seamlessly: Vice Minister Zhao had indeed been infatuated with her; the servants in his residence confirmed that he had met “Yue Linyan” that night; and the earring she had left behind, the signs of struggle, even the fabric fibers under Vice Minister Zhao’s fingernails—all matched perfectly.
Yet, it was… too perfect.
Perfect, like a meticulously staged play.
Nan Yanxiu suddenly felt a tightness in his chest, an inexplicable heat surging from within.
He abruptly released his grip on her, snatched up the scattered robe nearby, and draped it over himself, his movements somewhat hurried.
"This prince has urgent matters to attend to. Miss Lin Yan, please do as you wish."
His voice was low, yet carried a barely perceptible tension. With that, he turned and strode away, not even bothering to fasten his outer robe properly. The collar hung slightly open, revealing a few ambiguous red marks near his collarbone.
He did not have urgent matters.
He was afraid that if he stayed any longer, he would once again drown in her gaze.
Those eyes were too dangerous—like an abyss, like a whirlpool. The slightest lapse in attention could lead him to eternal damnation.
The door slammed shut heavily. Shen Shuangren remained leaning against the bed, her fingertips unconsciously brushing over the red marks he had left on her chin.
She gazed in the direction he had left, a complex emotion flickering in her eyes.
She shouldn’t be like this.
Shen Shuangren closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to calm the turbulent emotions surging in her chest.
But the moment she closed her eyes, all she could see was that man with crimson-tinged eyes, trapping her within a confined space.
She snapped her eyes open, her nails digging deeply into her palms, using the pain to force herself to stay clear-headed.
"Damn it…"
She rolled off the bed, picked up the scattered Hidden Weapons on the floor, and with a light tap of her toes, she leaped out the window, speeding toward the Chenghuang Temple.
The cool breeze brushed against her face, but it couldn’t dispel the lingering warmth at the tips of her ears.
In the daylight, the Chenghuang Temple appeared somewhat imposing. Li Chenxi was crouched on a broken wall, munching on a candied hawthorn stick. Seeing a figure darting toward him, he grinned and raised the oil-paper package in his hand: "Xiao Shuang'er, want a candied—"
A flash of cold light, and a curved blade was already pressed against his throat.
Shen Shuangren’s eyes were filled with a chilling killing intent, the blade gleaming coldly in the twilight.
"Ah, ah," Li Chenxi chuckled, gently pushing the blade aside with the bamboo skewer of his candied hawthorn stick. "It’s all my fault. How about I treat you to emerald shrimp dumplings at Xianke Tower to make it up to you? The new chef’s skills are excellent."
Shen Shuangren pressed the blade three inches closer: "You knew you gave me the wrong medicine, yet you didn’t come to save me?!"
Her voice carried a rare tremor, the tip of the blade leaving a small red dot on Li Chenxi’s Adam’s apple.
"But you said you could get away unscathed," Li Chenxi blinked innocently, pulling a packet of osmanthus candy from his sleeve. "I was just following your orders. Here, I bought this especially for you…"
"I…"
Shen Shuangren was momentarily speechless, but the tips of her ears quietly flushed red.
Of course, she remembered her earlier confident demeanor, but who could have expected the incense to be swapped for…
Li Chenxi suddenly snatched the curved blade from her hand, leaning in to examine her flushed cheeks: "You look fine to me?"
He raised an eyebrow teasingly, "Your complexion is quite rosy…"
"Who said I’m fine!" Shen Shuangren reached out to snatch the blade back, but her voice suddenly weakened. "It’s just that I…"
"Don’t tell me you and that Lingyuan Prince…"
Li Chenxi’s eyes suddenly lit up, like a fox spotting its prey. "He didn’t… again, did he?"
"Try saying another word!" Shen Shuangren kicked the broken wall, causing bricks and stones to collapse with a crash.
She trembled with anger, only to see Li Chenxi nimbly leap onto another section of the broken wall, grinning from ear to ear.
"So it’s true~"
Li Chenxi drawled out his words, flicking a small blue porcelain bottle from his sleeve.
A smile played on his lips, but his tone carried a hint of mockery: "Specially prepared for you—a calming pill to cool your temper."
"You!"
A cold glint flashed in Shen Shuangren’s eyes as three willow-leaf darts shot through the air, aimed straight at Li Chenxi’s face.
Li Chenxi’s figure flickered like a ghost, deftly evading as the willow-leaf darts clang-clang-clang embedded themselves into the dilapidated temple pillar behind him, sinking deep into the wood.
He patted his sleeves and feigned a pitiful sigh, “Alright, alright, I was wrong, okay?”
Seeing Shen Shuangren’s icy expression and silence, he finally dropped his playful demeanor and lowered his voice, “That Su Jianxuan took a fancy to an actor at Wanhua Xilou yesterday, threw down three hundred taels of gold, and forced them to drink with him.”
A sudden surge of killing intent flashed in Shen Shuangren’s eyes, her knuckles cracking audibly. “That lecherous scoundrel—I will definitely take his head.”
Li Chenxi raised an eyebrow. “So what’s the plan next?”
A wicked smile curled at the corner of Shen Shuangren’s lips, a cold gleam flickering in her eyes. “Since he enjoys listening to tunes, tell Hua Luo to have ‘her’ await Young Master Su at Wanhua Xilou tonight.”
Her fingertips lightly stroked the hilt of her curved blade, her tone icy. “This Pavilion Master will—rid the people of a scourge tonight.”
“Yes!” Li Chenxi clasped his fists, a flicker of excitement in his eyes.
A saying circulated in the jianghu: “When Shigu comes for your life, even the King of Hell steps aside.”
No one knew exactly how many masters Shigu Ge had, nor did anyone know where their lair was.
They lurked in the darkness like shadows, waiting only for the right moment to appear like ghosts and take lives without a trace.
They killed, but never indiscriminately.
They did not kill commoners, harm livestock, or disturb the innocent.
Their blades drank only the blood of corrupt officials; their arrows struck only the tyrants who preyed upon the people.
They operated in secrecy, coming and going without a trace.
Some said Shigu Ge’s assassins could soar through the skies and burrow into the earth, arriving like a swift wind and departing like flowing clouds. Others claimed they were masters of disguise—perhaps the old tea seller who brushed past you yesterday might become the reaper who took your life today.
But one thing was certain—anyone targeted by Shigu Ge was doomed.
There were those who hired dozens of guards at great expense, locking themselves in impenetrable, fortified chambers, yet by the next day, their heads would still be hanging from the city gates, with the guards unaware of when the killer had even come.
The common people revered them like deities; the powerful hated them to the bone.
Poor families would secretly light a lamp at night, praying for Shigu Ge’s enduring existence, while those corrupt officials and nobles who had committed countless evils lay awake at night, offering immense bounties, vowing to eradicate this thorn in their side.
Unfortunately, Shigu Ge was like a gust of wind—you could feel its presence, but you could never grasp it.
To the people, Shigu Ge’s existence was a beacon in the dark night; to the imperial court, it was a sharp thorn embedded in the Dragon Throne.
The Emperor could not tolerate them.
Even though Shigu Ge only killed corrupt officials and punished tyrants, in the Son of Heaven’s eyes, this was still an overreach—the power of life and death should rest solely in the hands of the royal family. How could mere jianghu ruffians presume to mete out heaven’s punishment?
Moreover, which of the nobles who died by Shigu Ge’s blade was not part of some deeply entrenched, powerful clan?
In the imperial court, grievances had long been simmering.
Thus, a secret decree descended: “Order Lingyuan Prince Nan Yanxiu to thoroughly investigate Shigu Ge. It must be brought under imperial control. If they cannot be recruited… then eradicate them completely.”
When Nan Yanxiu received the decree, he understood his imperial father’s intent.
Shigu Ge’s connections ran too deep. Forcibly exterminating them would only stir public resentment, yet allowing them to operate unchecked—where would the imperial authority’s dignity lie?
Therefore, the best outcome was to have these jianghu figures “submit to the court,” becoming a blade in the royal family’s hand.
It is like taming a wild beast—first pulling out its teeth, then putting a golden chain around its neck.
But the question is…
Will Shigu Ge willingly submit to being tamed?