The General Lans residence stood in sharp contrast to her father's mansion. Where the prime minister's household glimmered with gold and jade, her uncle's home was modest, almost spartan. The courtyards were broad but plain, and the walls bore more scars than carvings. Even the scent was different—less perfume and incense, more sweat, leather, and steel.
A small training ground spread across the inner court, its sand scarred with footprints and gouged lines from countless drills. It had always been her favorite place as a child, the only corner of her world where she could breathe freely. Here, no one scolded her for running too fast, or for swinging a wooden sword until her palms blistered. Here, her laughter had once mingled with the clash of blades, her hair whipping loose as her cousins dragged her into horse rides that ended with all of them covered in dust.
Her uncle, General Lan, was more of a father to her than the man who had sired her. Stern, yes—but fair. He had never tried to press her into the mold of a delicate noble daughter. To him, she was simply Yue, the girl who grinned when a bowstring snapped back against her wrist, who carried herself more like a soldier than a court lady. She sometimes wished, deep in her heart, that fate had placed her here as his daughter rather than in her father's house.
The three Lan brothers had always been her partners in crime.
Lan Bo, the eldest, was a tower of muscle and mischief. He laughed too loud, fought too often, and lived too fully for his own good. But for all his roughness, he had a heart as gentle as a lamb—so long as no one provoked him.
Lan Zhi, the middle son, was their peacock. Handsome to the point of beauty, with hair he spent more time tending than training. Fashionable silks, easy charm, and a trail of sighing maidens followed him wherever he went.
Lan Ren, the youngest, was nothing like his brothers. A scholar through and through, he buried himself in scrolls, his ink-stained fingers trembling if dragged outdoors. If left alone, Yue was certain he would not leave his study for days.
When Yue arrived at their gates, none were surprised. She often came here when her father's house felt too suffocating. But this time, she carried more than grief in her heart. She carried the weight of another life—eight years' worth of memories filled with blood and tragedy.
Her cousins, of course, did not know that. They only saw the dullness in her eyes, the way her smile no longer came as easily. They tried to cheer her, each in their own way. Bo suggested sparring until they were both too bruised to think. Zhi proposed a night out, full of food and wine and laughter. Ren awkwardly offered to read her poetry—until the other two silenced him with a glare.
In the end, the brothers convinced her to leave the house with them.
She hesitated. Part of her wanted to refuse, to curl into silence. She was no longer the carefree girl they remembered. Yet when she looked at their familiar faces—protective, hopeful, and still the closest thing she had to family—her resolve softened. She had missed them more than she realized.
So she agreed.
---
The city night shimmered with lantern-light when they arrived at one of the more infamous establishments: a gambling hall that doubled as a restaurant. The air inside buzzed with smoke, laughter, and the clatter of dice against porcelain bowls. Waiters wove between crowded tables, balancing steaming dishes and pitchers of wine. The scent of roasted duck mingled with spiced broth and sweet rice cakes, making her stomach stir despite herself.
Yue dressed as a young man, her hair tied back and her features shadowed by a simple hat. It was a trick she had used before, and her cousins, ever her accomplices, played along without question. To the crowd, she was just another well-born youth indulging in the city's pleasures.
They found her favorite corner, ordered food and drinks, and settled in. Her cousins asked for wine, their voices already raised in laughter, while Yue requested only fruit juice. The tart sweetness on her tongue calmed her as she leaned back, scanning the crowd.
The casino was alive with energy—merchants bragging of their luck, courtesans laughing behind their sleeves, and gamblers throwing fortunes away with a shake of the dice. For a moment, she almost forgot the heaviness inside her.
Almost.
Then the shouting began.
Across the hall, a commotion stirred. The rhythm of dice and laughter broke into curses and sharp cries.
"What's happening?" Yue asked, frowning.
Zhi leaned in, lowering his voice. "That would be the young Duke Wei and his friends. Wherever they go, trouble follows. Likely a game gone wrong—or perhaps he's caught someone cheating."
The name struck Yue like a cold drop of water. Duke Wei—the eldest son of General Wei, famed defender of the realm and close companion of the late Crown Prince. In the years to come, this very man would rise to prominence as a general himself, a staunch supporter of the second prince, and—most importantly—an enemy of the prime minister faction. Of her father and future husband qlique. They on the other hand supports the crown prince.
Yue remembered too well what would become of him. Seven years from now, before his suspicions about the second prince's death could bear fruit, he would fall in battle at the border. A tragic end for a man who might have changed the course of history.
Her thoughts were cut short by a thunderous crash.
A man's body hurtled through a carved screen, smashing into a table with a spray of wine and porcelain shards. Gasps and screams rippled through the hall as the unlucky gambler slid limply across the floor.
From the wreckage stepped a tall figure. His long black hair had come loose, strands falling wildly about his shoulders. His lean frame radiated restless energy, his pale skin catching the lamplight in stark contrast to the chaos around him. His lips curved in a half-smile that looked more like a challenge than an apology.
"Forgive the intrusion, friends," he drawled, raising one hand as though he meant to calm the crowd. "My companion here has clearly had too much to drink, and seems to have forgotten how to stand."
A nervous chuckle spread across the room. No one dared to call him a liar.
Then his gaze swept the hall, sharp and assessing. It lingered on the three Lan brothers before fixing, finally, on Yue.
The smile widened.
"Well, well…" his voice carried, smooth and mocking. "If it isn't the young gentlemen of the Lan house. And who might this be?"
His finger lifted, deliberate and slow, pointing straight at Yue.
Her cousins stiffened at once, instinctively protective, their postures shifting as if to shield her. Yue, in her plain boy's garb, felt the weight of the hall's gaze turning toward her.