Xuan Ling commanded Li Wei, not aloud, but through eye contact that carried a thread of spiritual sense that coiled directly into Li Wei's mind, cold and precise.
Go and receive our guest, Lord Shen. Let us hear what news he brings of his... bride.
Li Wei's eyes flickered with predatory anticipation so brief it would have been missed by anyone but the women in the room. He gave a sharp, single nod in Xuan Ling's direction.
He turned to leave, his movements already radiating the calm, imposing authority of the pavilion's chief enforcer. But at the doorway, he stopped short, clicking his tongue in a rare, unguarded moment of self-reproof. He'd almost forgotten the true priority.
The tray. He had almost forgotten it in his bloodlust.
Turning back, he retrieved the lacquered tray he had brought up earlier. On it sat two delicate porcelain boxes, their lids fitted snugly.
"Remember," he said, his voice now a casual, familiar murmur as he placed the tray on a low table next to Qianyi's bed. His gaze, however, remained sharp and dark with the promise of what was to come. "The one with the plum blossom is sickeningly sweet, for Yisha. The one with the bamboo is milder, for Qianyi."
Then, without another word, the softness vanished from his face, replaced by an expression of serene, unshakeable composure. The Frost Fox was going to greet his prey.
The main hall of the Zuì Mèng Lóu was quietly busy with their routine morning after recovery. Servants moved with silent efficiency, replacing spent candles, sweeping away scattered petals, and wiping down tables.
The air smelled of polishing oil and faint, lingering perfume. And in the center floor of the main hall, Lord Shěn stood, his presence feeling vulgar and out of place as he leered at a young woman refilling the incense burners. His assistant stood next to him, embarrassed.
His smug and greedy grin disappeared as he felt a sudden chill, making his body shiver. A deep, penetrating cold seeped into his bones, a chill so sharp it felt like a blade of ice drawn down his spine. The air around him, and him alone, frosted with his every breath. He spun around, heart hammering, but saw nothing in the shadows of the empty alcove behind him.
He gulped hard and turned around. He stumbled back a step and forced himself to stifle a yelp.
Li Wei stood directly before him, having appeared without a sound. He was close enough to touch, his expression neutral, but his eyes—those dark amber eyes that only turned that color for a hunt, held a glacial stillness that promised unspeakable violence.
He was a study in monochrome power, his tall, lean frame draped in black robes embroidered with silver thread that swirled like a trapped blizzard, his white hair cascading over each shoulder. In one hand, he idly tapped a folded black ironwood fan against his palm.
"Welcome, Lord Shen."
Lord Shen, for his part, was a peacock preening in a den of wolves. He was handsome in a polished, conventional way, but seemed to shrink within his finely tailored robes of forest green and gold, his form lacking the unshakable core of a powerful immortal. Where Li Wei was a sharp, enduring mountain peak sheathed in ice, Lord Shen was a sapling, decorative but easily broken.
Li Wei made a show of glancing around the empty hall. "Where's our Qianyi? Shouldn't she be with you for her first visit home?"
Lord Shen struggled to utter the words of his carefully planned speech. The confident facade he'd rehearsed crumbled under that silent, frozen gaze. As the man stuttered, Li Wei continued to size him up, mocking him each time he attempted to speak. He looked over at his assistant only to realize at that moment his assistant had been frozen, unable to speak or move.
"I-I n-n-need to—," Lord Shen stammered.
"Y-y-you n-n-need to wha-what," Li Wei calmly mocked, circling him while tapping his folded fan harder in his hand.
He's nothing, Li Wei thought, the cold in his core intensified with his disdain. A complete fèiwù.
"A'Wei," Xuan Ling called playfully as she descended the staircase leading onto the center floor. "Zhǔrén. Qiānjīn didn't come with him, and he hasn't explained why," Li We reported, never taking his eyes off Shěn Míngxuān.
Xuan Ling reached the main hall and went behind the staircase to an area leading to a short hallway and a door at the end. Li Wei understood Xuan Ling wanted him to bring Lord Shěn to her.
"Come," Li Wei quietly commanded, and Lord Shěn immediately obeyed while his assistant remained frozen in place.
They moved behind the grand staircase, away from the light, into the short, shadowed hallway. The ambient sounds of cleaning faded, replaced by the echo of their footsteps. The staff they passed did not speak or leer. They simply stopped their work and watched. Their stares were not curious, but of knowing finality, as if watching a condemned man walk his last steps. Their silence was more terrifying than any threat.
Li Wei opened a heavy, unadorned door, revealing a narrow, descending staircase carved from solid stone. A wave of cold, damp air, smelling of wet rock and something faintly metallic, washed over them. The light from the hall penetrated only a few steps before being swallowed by an profound darkness below.
Without a word, Li Wei began his descent, his black robes merging with the shadows. Lord Shěn, his heart hammering against his ribs, had no choice but to follow the frost fox down into the belly of the beast.
Li Wei led him through the final door, and Lord Shěn stumbled into... a parlor.
His mind, braced for a dungeon, reeled. It was an opulent, windowless study, appointed with tasteful extravagance. Silks draped the walls, a fine rosewood desk stood in one corner, and the air was scented with... something beneath the sandalwood incense. He relaxed some, a shaky breath escaping his lips. Perhaps this was just for intimidation.
Li Wei politely gestured to a plush velvet chair positioned at a decadently carved table. "Zuò," he commanded, the single syllable leaving no room for debate.
Lord Shěn sat. Trying not to panic, he let his eyes dart around the room. Bookshelves, a painted screen, a vase of eternal-pearl flowers... nothing strange. But that stench. A cloying, metallic tang that clung to the back of his throat. Where was it coming from? The floor was clean; the walls were spotless.
He continued discreetly surveying the room. He scratched his temple in a gesture of feigned nonchalance, tilting his head back with a sigh.
That's when he saw it.
Directly above him, suspended from the shadowed heights of the vaulted ceiling like grotesque chandeliers, were the bodies of his three personal guards who were supposed to be waiting outside. They were hog-tied, their limbs bent at unnatural angles, their faces frozen in silent screams. Their dark robes were stained with ominous, dark patches, but not a single drop of blood dripped down; The Three Peonies had seen to that.
A strangled gasp tore from Lord Shěn's throat. His knees slammed onto the stone floor with a sickening crack, but he felt no pain, only a soul-deep, paralyzing terror.
From behind him, Xuan Ling's soft, alluring, terrifying voice cut through the silence.
"Where are my girls, Lord Shěn?"
Li Wei did not need a verbal command. At the sound of her voice, he simply raised a hand. The humid air in the room suddenly grew dry and brittle. From the lingering vapor coalesced one hundred perfect, needle-thin shards of ice, each no longer than a fingernail, hovering around Lord Shěn like a glittering, frozen halo. They caught the lamplight, beautiful and deadly.
"Now," Li Wei said, his voice devoid of all emotion. "Answer the question."
He gestured his hand forward, as if politely shooing someone away and a dozen of the icy needles shot forward. They did not stab, but kissed his skin, tracing lines across his arms and thighs with the delicate precision of a master calligrapher. Each one left a searing, paper-thin incision that burned with an unnatural, deep cold.
Lord Shěn screamed, a high-pitched, pathetic sound. After only a minute of this exquisite torment, his resolve shattered completely.
"I'll talk! I'll talk!" he shrieked, his body convulsing. "The Tiānmìng Bǎoxǐ! My father seeks the Celestial Seal! He believes it's in her blood! The wedding was a ruse for the ritual! I dumped their bodies in the dried up well in the woods where my mother locked up Lady Fan from the Music Academy because she was having my father's child and I didn't want a brother. And my father promised I could be with Shěn Ling'er after!
Oh! He steals from the clan treasury to fund his mistresses and blames the shortfall on poor harvests! His favorite concubine is the one who hid the ledger in the dried up well along with some books about the history of the Celestial Clan. I didn't tell my dad because she knows about my child with my mother's maid."
The secrets poured out of him in a desperate, babbling torrent.
Li Wei snapped his fan open, fanning himself in amusement as the remaining ice daggers shattered into a harmless mist. He and Xuan Ling exchanged a look. Amidst the hysterical confession, a single, seemingly useless piece of gossip, a hidden ledger had unexpected potential.
Lord Shěn, broken and sobbing, was hauled away.
His assistant was still in the main hall, white as a ghost and trembling uncontrollably. Li Wei made his way to the main hall toward the assistant and handed him a single, blood-stained hairpin belonging to Lord Shen and a clear, simple message for Patriarch Shěn:
"Your son is our guest. The bride price has increased. We await your... improved offer."