Chapter 3

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Qingwu didn’t notice the dazed expression of the maid beside her as she led the group out of the Bamboo Garden where she resided, heading toward Pei Muci’s Pine Garden. The sun was warm and gentle, its light filtering through the shadows of the trees, casting mottled patterns on the tips of her flowing hair that made it hard to keep her eyes open.

She tilted her head, cupping her palm, her elbow lazily resting on the dark wooden armrest as she closed her eyes to rest. The soft sedan chair jolted slightly over the pebble path. The eight bearers instinctively slowed their pace, ensuring the princess’s comfort.

At the Pine Garden, fresh servants with unblemished backgrounds had already taken their posts. The gardeners, while turning the soil, occasionally caught faint strange odors but silently planted each precious seedling into the dug holes without daring to ask a word.

The guards Qingwu arranged this time were deaf and mute, so there was no worry that these widowers would collude with Pei Muci. The surroundings were quiet. Pei Muci sat at the low table in the middle of the room, a three-inch-long gash on his thigh bleeding slowly, the blood seeping into his hem and spreading like a blooming flower.

His breath was uneven, and he struggled to hold the wound closed. He stretched out his hand to a figure curled in the corner, beckoning. “Knife. Give it to me.”

The little attendant named An Qi, however, acted as if he hadn’t heard, tucking the dagger further into his bosom. After all, the master’s leg was wounded, and he dared not wrestle the blade from him.

He knew the master’s stabbing himself in the thigh was to write a letter for the princess; if he returned the knife now, the next strike might pierce the heart.

“You should leave me to the princess; perhaps she will no longer pursue this,” Pei Muci said with a faint, carefree smile, though his brow paled and weakened. “You risked so much sneaking into the manor; I can’t let you die in vain.”

He then mustered all his strength to lunge at An Qi but was too weak and collapsed beside the low table.

“Master!” An Qi’s body bristled with alarm as he hurried to lift Pei Muci.

When the embrace emptied, the hidden short blade fell back into Pei Muci’s hand. It turned out the master had only feigned weakness.

An Qi, nearly choking with worry, reached again to grab the blade and, in desperation, tackled Pei Muci onto the low table.

Their eyes met for a few moments, their faces so close that Pei Muci, unused to such contact, flickered a flash of ruthlessness in his gaze before quickly burying it in his deep eyes. “You should leave now. I will manage myself later.”

An Qi swiftly withdrew, his neck flushed a deep crimson, his expression dazed as he walked out.

He stopped at the door, wanting to persuade the master once more to abandon his self-destructive thoughts, and glanced back.

Pei Muci had resumed his usual silent demeanor, one palm turned up and resting limply on the floor, the other pressed against the wound at his thighI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.