Murong Jin stopped before a bustling dance hall. The sign above the door, three golden characters on a red plaque, read: Yumen Jiao.
"The spring wind doesn't pass Yumen Gate," she sneered, her eyes narrowing at the attendant by the door. "What sort of 'charmer' comes from beyond the pass?"
The attendant stared. It was the hall's grand opening, and while they'd had plenty of guests, none had arrived looking for a fight. Still, a customer was a customer.
"My lady, our master brought these dancers back from beyond the frontier. They're beauties skilled in the songs and dances of the northern tribes. That's why we're called Yumen Jiao."
Murong Jin gave a slight nod and moved to enter. The attendant instinctively raised a hand to block her.
"What, you don't do business with women here?" Murong Jin stopped, her hands resting on her hips as she asked the question, slow and cool.
"Well…" He hesitated. She looked like a noblewoman—a young wife, maybe. Places like this weren't for wives.
"If there's no rule against it, then move," Murong Jin said, her gaze locking onto him.
By now, a crowd had gathered. They'd seen wives storm brothels, but never a woman coming to a dance hall for the performance.
Just as the whispers started, a graceful figure strolled out of the entrance. He wore a robe embroidered with gold thread, cinched with a matching sash and a fine jade pendant. He looked nothing like a merchant. He was the master of Yumen Jiao. The attendant had already scurried to his side.
"So, it is the Lord of Yuling." The master's charming eyes curved into a smile. "Your presence graces us. Forgive me for not welcoming you sooner."
"Not at all," Murong Jin said with a warrior's salute. "I was just wandering and found myself missing the frontier. It seems, however, women aren't welcome, Master Yang."
"Nonsense. Who hasn't heard of the great General Murong? My servant simply has poor judgment." The man who called himself Yang gave an apologetic smile and stepped aside. "Please."
Murong Jin was shown to a private room on the second floor. From the window, she could see the stage below. For now, she kept it closed. She needed to think, and she disliked the noise.
The door creaked open. Murong Jin turned to see Master Yang's back as he closed it. She brushed a dusting of snow from the window latch; her fingers stilled. Then she moved—fast—arms wrapped around his waist.
"Let go! What if someone sees?" the man hissed, but he didn't pry her hands away.
"Three years. Have you been well?" Murong Jin released him, watching as he turned.
"What do you think?" The 'man' spread his arms and spun once, a grin lighting up her face. "Well? Do I look the part?"
"Perfectly. You were always the best at it." Murong Jin took her hand, pulling her to a table. She pushed open the nearby window, resting her hand on the sill.
"You're a married woman now, still acting like a general." Xing—once the Vermilion Bird Camp's dead-eye archer, now the Yang clan's "Third Young Master"—shook her head helplessly. "Jin, you haven't changed a bit."
"Neither have you. Even after being adopted by the great Huaying Yang family, you have to be out in the world." Murong Jin gave a careless smile, her gaze sweeping the street below.
"My adoptive father is old. My brothers can't manage everything. I can't just be a freeloader."
"You saved their caravan from the steppe tribes. So what if you were?" Murong Jin laughed. Her eyes caught a dancer on the stage. "That dancer's form. From the frontier?"
"Mm. An orphan the caravan found. What do you think? Is her Hu Xuan—the whirlwind steppe dance—any good?" Xing leaned back, a proud smile on her face.
Murong Jin watched intently. "Not as good as you, but not bad."
"Your standards are higher. Even my own student doesn't impress you." Xing rolled her eyes. "Since you married the Fifth Prince, there's been no news. Settling down?"
"Me?" Murong Jin arched an eyebrow. "You'd be better at it."
"Oh, really?" Xing gave a wicked smile. "Then who was it you went to get reinforcements for, nearly getting yourself killed in the process?"
Murong Jin was speechless. "I knew you and Liu were close. I knew he would come to you first."
At that, Xing lowered her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Since he told you everything, I assume I'm under your command now?"
"No." Murong Jin's own smile faded.
"What?" Xing's head shot up. "Then why are you here?"
With a faint smile, Murong Jin scanned the area again. Her gaze suddenly froze on a single point across the street. "I see," she murmured.
"What is it?" Xing frowned, a flicker of alarm in her eyes.
"It's nothing," Murong Jin said after a moment. "I just came to see you. My father gave me permission to use this network, but the Yang family is too important to risk."
Xing nodded. "If you need help, let me know."
"I will. I have a feeling I'll be here often." Just then, applause rose from below. The dance had ended.
Murong Jin rose. "The song is over."
"He's here too. You're not going to see him?" Xing asked, rising with her.
"He's already left," Murong Jin said, glancing at a now-shuttered window at the far end of the floor. "I imagine the Seventh Prince downstairs had something to do with it."
Xing let out a knowing laugh. "That's Liu for you. Always meticulous."
"Until next time," Murong Jin said with a smile, adding, "Master Yang."
As her foot left the last step of the stairs, Xue Feiyan's voice sounded beside her.
"I didn't expect to see the Lord of Yuling here. A fan of frontier dances?"
Murong Jin looked up at him. "Nostalgia. After a victory, my father would always have the Hu Xuan performed."
"I see," Xue Feiyan nodded. "How is my fifth brother? I heard his residence is closed to visitors."
"Thank you for your concern. As of this morning, we are open again."
"Oh?"
"He's almost fully recovered, so there's no need to refuse the well-wishes of concerned parties." Murong Jin's voice was cool. "If there's nothing else, I'll be on my way. Our doors are open—when you come, bring your memorials, not rumors."
"I should pay my respects to Fifth Brother. After you, Fifth Sister-in-law," Xue Feiyan said, stepping aside. He watched her go, a flicker of doubt in his eyes.
Something was wrong. He looked up. Master Yang stood at a second-floor window and gave him a slight nod.
Xue Feiyan returned the gesture, then turned and left.
"Ling Yan." Back in his study, he spoke the name aloud. A woman in black leathers appeared in the room.
"My lord."
"The person I had you follow from Yumen Jiao. Any news?"
Ling Yan knelt. "This subordinate has failed. I lost him within three miles."
"You couldn't keep up?" He was surprised. Ling Yan was the fastest in Night Blade.
She remained silent, awaiting punishment.
"Anything else?" he asked, walking to her side.
"This subordinate was negligent, please…"
He helped her to her feet, his voice gentle. He steadied her with a hand, then let go a heartbeat too late. "Rest." His gaze had already moved to the map on the wall. "We start with the Yang family's caravans."