The night air was cold, but it was nothing compared to the ice that had formed in Yingluo's veins. Li Xun was gone, a shadow melting back into the darkness, but his presence lingered, a dangerous warmth that fought against the chill of her own thoughts. The traitor was not some distant enemy. He was here. Under their roof. A serpent in the stable.
Panic was a luxury she could not afford. Fear was a fire that had to be banked and controlled. She stood in the center of her room, the roster and the wax seal feeling like lead weights in her hands. Her mind, once a chaotic storm, was now a still, frozen lake. Every ripple was a calculation, every reflection a strategy.
If she accused the stableman publicly, it would cause a scandal. The Empress would deny everything, and the traitor would likely be silenced before he could talk. If she confronted him privately, he might flee, or worse, alert his handlers.
No. This had to be a surgical strike. Quiet, precise, and utterly ruthless.
She found her father and Commander Bao in the study, a lamp burning low between them, their faces grim in the flickering light. They had not slept.
"Liu An," she said, without preamble. She placed the roster on the table, her finger pointing to the name. "His brother is the head stableman. He has been with us for twenty-two years. His wife is from a village near the southern flood zone. His son is sickly."
The Duke's face hardened. "No. Not Liu. I would trust him with my life."
"Father, you trusted my sister," she said, her voice soft but sharp as glass. "Trust is a luxury we can no longer afford."
Commander Bao studied the roster, his one good eye narrowed. "If he is the traitor, he is a drowning man. The Empress does not employ men of strong conviction. She employs men with weak chains. Find the chain, and you can lead him wherever you want."
"Then let's go fishing," Yingluo said.
The stables were quiet at this hour, filled with the soft rustle of horses and the sweet, earthy smell of hay and manure. Liu was mucking out a stall, his movements slow and weary. He was a broad, powerful man, his hands calloused from a lifetime of work, his face etched with the simple worries of a loyal servant. He looked up as they entered, his expression shifting from fatigue to surprise, then to a flicker of fear when he saw the grim look on the Duke's face.
"My Lord," he said, bowing his head. "Lady Yingluo. Is something wrong?"
"Liu," the Duke began, his voice heavy. "We need to ask you about your brother, An."
Liu's face went pale, but he was a good actor. "My brother? I… I have not heard from him in a month. Since he left for the south to find work. Is he alright? Has something happened?"
"He's dead," Yingluo said, her voice flat. "He died when the western dike collapsed."
Liu flinched, a genuine spasm of grief that was almost convincing. "No… gods, no."
"He was a good man," Commander Bao said, his voice deceptively gentle. "Died a hero, trying to save the others. But before he died, he left a message."
Liu's eyes darted to Bao, then to Yingluo, then to the floor. "A… a message?"
"He said the man who paid him to cut the support struts had a very distinctive ring," Yingluo continued, stepping closer. "A silver ring, carved into the shape of a coiled snake. He said the man told him that if he did it, his family would be taken care of. That his sick son would get the best medicine in the capital. That his wife, who misses her home so much, would be able to go back to her village, a very wealthy woman."
She was lying, of course. She had no idea about a ring. But she was gambling, betting on the truth. She was painting a picture so specific that the only way to deny it was with an equally detailed lie.
Liu's composure finally shattered. He sank to his knees, his massive frame wracked with sobs. It was the sound of a man breaking.
"He said they would kill my son!" he wept, his voice muffled by his hands. "They came to me. A man in a black mask. He knew everything! About my boy's cough, about my wife's family, about the debt we owe to the moneylender… He said if An did this one thing, all our troubles would be over. He said they were agents of the Empress, that this was a command from the throne itself! How could I refuse? How can you refuse the heavens?"
The Duke looked away, his face a mask of pain and disgust. He was a man of honor, and the thought of one of his own men being broken in such a way was a personal affront.
"Where is your family now, Liu?" Yingluo asked, her voice cold, devoid of pity.
"They… they took them," he sobbed. "Two days ago. A carriage. They said they were taking them to a 'safe house.' They said they would be released once the job was done. But now… now that An is dead… what have I done?" He looked up at her, his face a mess of tears and snot. "My Lady, I am a dead man. But my wife… my son… they are innocent. Please."
And there it was. The chain. The leverage.
Yingluo knelt in front of him, her gaze level. "You are a dead man, Liu. You betrayed your master, you betrayed the family that fed you and clothed you. You are responsible for the deaths of dozens of good men. For that, you deserve to die." She let the words sink in, watching him crumble.
"But," she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "your wife and son are not. And I am not my brother. I am not a monster who punishes the innocent for the sins of the father. You will help me, and I will save your family."
His head snapped up, a flicker of desperate hope in his eyes. "Anything! I will do anything!"
"You will send a message to your handlers," she said. "You will tell them that your brother's mission was a success, but that he was recognized by one of our guards before he died. You will say that the Duke is furious, that Commander Bao is hunting for the traitor, and that I am a hysterical wreck, locked in my rooms, weeping and cursing the Third Prince. You will tell them the Wei clan is in chaos, and that my father is planning to send me away to a remote convent to hide me from the shame."
Commander Bao grunted in approval. It was a plausible story. It made them look weak and disorganized, exactly what Li Jian and the Empress wanted to believe.
"You will tell them this," Yingluo continued, her eyes burning into his, "and then, you will disappear. We will stage your death. A fall from a horse, a robbery gone wrong. It will be a tragedy, but it will close the case. And while the world thinks you are dead, we will find your family. I swear it on my mother's grave."
The plan was audacious, ruthless, and perfectly timed. It turned their greatest defeat into a powerful weapon. It used the enemy's own pawn against them.
Three days later, the news spread through the capital that the head stableman of the Wei estate, overcome with grief over his brother's death and the shame of his family's name, had taken his own life. It was a sad, sordid end to a tragic affair, and it was quickly forgotten.
In the shadows of a forgotten temple on the outskirts of the city, Yingluu met with Shen Miao.
"My contacts are in place," Shen Miao said, her expression grim. "The 'safe house' is a heavily guarded villa in the eastern hills. It will not be easy to get them out."
"I have every faith in your abilities, Lady Shen," Yingluo said, her voice steady.
Shen Miao looked at her, a flicker of something new in her eyes. It wasn't just respect anymore. It was a flicker of fear. "You are a terrifying woman, Lady Wei. You play with lives as if they were Go stones."
"I play to win," Yingluo replied. "And in this game, losing is not an option."
That night, as she walked back to her rooms, her father was waiting for her. He looked older, his shoulders slumped with a weariness that went deeper than bone.
"It is done," he said, his voice heavy. "Liu is 'dead.' The message has been sent."
"Yes," Yingluo said.
He looked at her, his eyes filled with a sorrow so profound it made her heart ache. "I am proud of the woman you have become, Yingluo. Your mind is a weapon, your will is unbreakable. You have saved this family."
He reached into his robe and pulled out the small, crudely carved wooden sparrow. He pressed it into her hand.
"But your mother," he whispered, his voice cracking. "She would have wept for the girl you had to be."