The gates of the General Wu Mansion stood wide open, guards in crisp armor flanking the entrance. The late afternoon sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the stone courtyard.
Lady Wu Caixia, wife of General Wu Jianhang, stood just beyond the gates, her silk sleeves fluttering as her hands twisted anxiously. Beside her, Su Jinhai, the elegant and composed wife of Wu Feiyan, and Lady Zhou Yinzhen, the refined consort of the general, waited in silence.
All three women kept their eyes fixed on the street beyond the gate. The air was thick with anticipation.
"She's been gone for so long," Lady Wu Caixia murmured, her voice tight. "Ten years at the northern border… I wonder how much she's changed."
Su Jinhai offered a gentle smile. "She's the general's daughter. She will return stronger than before."
Lady Zhou Yinzhen's gaze was sharper. "Strength is one thing. The capital is not the border. Here, strength alone is not enough."
The clatter of hooves and the soft rumble of wheels drew their attention. A covered carriage approached, escorted by a pair of mounted guards. When it halted, the curtain was pulled aside—and a young woman stepped down.
Wu Lanyin.
She moved with the quiet confidence of someone who had faced wind, snow, and the cry of battle. Her posture was straight, her eyes clear, and even in a simple travel robe, she carried the air of someone who belonged to no one's shadow. Behind her, Wenxiu, her faithful maid, followed with a bundle of luggage.
Lady Wu Caixia's eyes welled with tears. "Lanlan… you've come home."
Lanyin bowed slightly. "Mother."
The moment stretched—ten years of absence bridged in a single heartbeat. Then Lady Wu Caixia stepped forward and embraced her, propriety forgotten. Su Jinhai smiled warmly, while Lady Zhou Yinzhen merely studied the girl, as if weighing her worth.
The household filled with celebration, but in the heart of the city, another scene unfolded far from warmth.
In the Justice of Song Court, the torches flickered against the stone walls of the main hall. Prince Long Xun sat at his desk, stacks of scrolls and case reports spread before him.
His trusted subordinate, Zhenren, entered and bowed deeply.
"Well?" Long Xun's voice was low, controlled.
Zhenren shook his head. "No clues, Your Highness. Guanglie refuses to speak of his associates. We've searched the northern quarter—nothing."
Long Xun leaned back, frustration shadowing his expression. "A man like him doesn't move alone. Someone is protecting him… or using him."
Zhenren hesitated. "Shall we continue surveillance?"
Long Xun's eyes narrowed. "Yes. And find me the name of the woman from the market. The one who stopped him."
As Zhenren bowed and withdrew, the prince's thoughts drifted—not to the case, but to the steady gaze and sure movements of that mysterious woman.
To be continued.