Just as Murong Jin had predicted, within days, the gossip had spread through every alley in Jindu.
It wasn't unusual for a prince to frequent brothels. But to be kicked out by his wife for it? A first since the founding of the dynasty. What made it juicier was the Emperor's complete silence. To any discerning eye, it was obvious: the Murong family was still a force to be reckoned with.
When the rumors reached Xue Feiyan, he simply smiled. Leaning back on the couch, he slowly turned a page.
Ling Yan stood beside him, her head bowed. The study was so quiet, only their breathing and the rustle of pages filled the air.
He never looked up, but he knew she was there.
Ling Yan couldn't fathom his thoughts. But since she'd made her report and he'd given no orders, she assumed she was dismissed.
The moment she moved, his voice drifted from the couch. "Leaving?"
She froze. "Does my lord have other orders?"
Xue Feiyan laughed softly, his eyes finally lifting from the book. She wore her usual black night gear, her hair in a loose knot. Hidden within that dark silk was a poisoned needle. One she kept for herself.
"Let your hair down," he said, rising.
"What?" Her eyes widened.
He didn't repeat himself. He walked over and pulled the ebony pin from her hair. It fell into his hand, and her hair cascaded down her back.
She took two panicked steps back, staring.
"I've told you. Delegate. You don't have to do everything yourself," he said, toying with the pin.
She lowered her head. "This subordinate understands."
He narrowed his eyes. With a sudden clench of his fist, the pin snapped. The sharp crack made her flinch.
"What was my mistake, my lord?" She dropped to one knee.
His gaze hardened. After a long moment, he spoke. "You're in the prime of your life. Black doesn't suit you."
"I'm used to it," she answered calmly.
She was. She'd been in his service for eight years, since she was ten. Eight years of wearing nothing but black. Long enough to get used to many things. The color of one's clothes. The presence of one man.
"Come here," he said, his voice flat. He walked to a bookshelf, retrieved a long brocade box, and handed it to her.
She took it. Five years ago, he had given her a weapon she still carried. What was this?
"I broke your pin. A replacement," he said, returning to the couch and his book.
Ling Yan opened the box. On a bed of silk lay a hairpin of violet gold, its head a lifelike phoenix.
"My lord, my pin was worthless. This…" She hesitated. It wasn't that she didn't like it. It wasn't for her.
Dressed in black, she was just a blade in the dark. One day, she might not return. How could she carry something that would identify her?
"It was for Qinyu. But I broke yours, so it's only fair." He idly turned a page, but his eyes flickered up to watch her.
She stared at the pin, a scornful smile on her lips. The sight of it made his heart clench.
"Then you should give it to the one it was meant for." She placed the pin on the table, turning to hide the pain in her eyes. With a smooth motion, she pulled a steel needle from her clothes and twisted her hair back into a knot.
His gaze fell on the steel needle. The one she usually kept hidden.
Ling Yan, he thought, if you were captured, would you truly not even try to live? He sighed.
When she turned back, her face was a calm mask. "If there are no other orders, I'll take my leave."
"Go," he said, turning a page.
In the blink of an eye, she was gone.
He rose and picked up the pin, his brow furrowed. He had thought now was the perfect time. But he was already too late.
"Brother Feiyan!" Deng Qinyu rushed in and clung to his arm. Her eyes were fixed on the pin.
"Is that for me?" she asked, her face bright. "The violet-gold pins of Qingzhou are famous! The metal is so rare, they send no more than ten a year as tribute. You're too good to me!"
She reached for it.
He took a subtle step back, placing the pin and its box on a shelf.
Her hand closed on empty air. She froze, a look of surprise on her face.
He smiled gently. "It's a gift from a friend to his wife."
"A friend? What kind of friend gives his wife something so precious?" she asked, suspicious. He wasn't a philanderer like Xue Liulan, but they were brothers.
He saw the change in her expression and knew what she was thinking. He simply pulled a scroll from a tall vase.
"Precious? Depends on what you compare it to." He untied the silk ribbon and unrolled the painting.
On it was a woman in courtly robes, her bright eyes smiling out from the scroll.
"Is that me?" Deng Qinyu stared, stunned. "Everyone said the Fifth Prince was the master painter. You've been hiding your talent."
"This, or the pin?" he asked, placing the scroll in her hands.
She lowered her head, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Anything from you is the most precious," she whispered.
He just nodded, his gaze drifting back to the other scrolls in the vase. Does she think so, too?
"Oh, Brother Feiyan."
"Yes?"
"Grandfather sent me to invite you to the residence. Do you know why?" she asked with a grin.
He paused. "It's not about my fifth brother, is it?"
"Of course not. He insisted on marrying that general. He brought this on himself. Even the Emperor isn't getting involved. Why should you?"
"True. I'm not the one who married a tigress," he said, a meaningful look in his eyes.
Deng Qinyu laughed. "Alright, alright, Grandfather is waiting."
When they arrived, the Prime Minister himself was at the gate.
"Your Highness honors us," Deng Qinyao said, moving to salute. Xue Feiyan caught his arm.
"Prime Minister, is your health improving?"
"Much better, thank you." Deng Qinyao led him to the study. Once seated, he turned to his granddaughter. "Qinyu, leave us."
"Again?" she pouted. "No. I want to listen."
"Qinyu, this is a matter of state. What does a woman know?" he said, his face stern.
"Murong Jin is a woman. How come she gets to be a lord and lead an army? Everyone respects her."
Xue Feiyan shook his head with a smile. "Qinyu, there are two ways for a woman to become famous. One is to achieve greatness like General Murong. The other is to be a paragon of virtue. You and she may be known for different things, but you are equals in renown."
"Really?" she asked. She still remembered Guo Ren's deference to Murong Jin. She had never been upstaged like that.
"Really," he nodded. "And since you are a paragon of virtue, the first law of my Xue family's ancestors is that women shall not meddle in politics."
His family's ancestors. Deng Qinyu's face flushed. She glanced at her grandfather, embarrassed.
"I'm leaving," she mumbled, and ran.
Deng Qinyao looked at Xue Feiyan with a helpless smile. "It seems for every creature, there is one that can tame it."