The next morning, the small courtyard buzzed with activity. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pale orange and grey.
Wang Jian stood in the center of the yard, adjusting his robes. He wasn't wearing his usual attire, nor the flamboyant robes of a sect elder. He was dressed simply, in the rougher, practical garb of a wealthy rogue cultivator.
He looked at his women. They were ready.
"Veils," he commanded, tossing lengths of fine, semi-sheer silk to them. "Put them on. We aren't hiding your beauty because I'm jealous. We're adding mystery. Men are stupid. They chase what they can't fully see."
Qiu Yun, Su Ning, and Bai Xue caught the silk. They draped the veils over their faces, obscuring their features but leaving their alluring eyes visible. It somehow made them look even more tempting.
Wang Jian beckoned them closer. His expression was serious, the playful lover gone, replaced by the cold tactician.
