The days before the banquet passed without incident.
That alone made Zhou Wei uneasy.
Cities did not pause unless someone was waiting. He felt it in the way the streets seemed too orderly near Lady Shen's quarter, in how rumors slowed instead of spreading. Influence was being applied gently, smoothing edges so nothing interfered with what was coming.
He used the time anyway.
Preparation was never wasted.
Zhou Wei mapped the routes between their room and the banquet house until he could walk them blind. He noted where lantern light failed, where crowds thickened, where guards tended to linger out of habit rather than instruction. The city revealed patterns quickly to those who did not rush it.
Mei Lin prepared differently.
She spent hours watching people.
Not from hiding. From benches, tea stalls, corners of markets where waiting was expected. She studied posture, tone, the way women in particular navigated attention without inviting ownership. Who shut conversations down cleanly. Who let them drag until control shifted away.
When she returned each evening, she spoke little, but Zhou Wei could feel the changes settling into her presence.
Sharper edges. Fewer wasted movements.
On the second day, a knock came at their door just after midday.
Two women stood outside, identical in posture if not in face. They bowed once and entered without waiting for permission, moving with quiet efficiency.
"Lady Shen sends these," one said.
They laid garments across the bed.
Simple. Expensive. Clean lines in dark, muted tones. Clothes that suggested money without demanding attention. The sort worn by people who did not need to explain why they belonged in certain rooms.
Mei Lin touched the fabric once, testing weight and texture. "This isn't disguise," she said.
"No," Zhou Wei replied. "It's framing."
The women waited while they changed.
Zhou Wei adjusted his sleeves carefully, letting the fabric settle. The fit was precise without being restrictive. Mei Lin emerged moments later, hair bound neatly, posture effortless.
She looked… correct.
Not ornamental. Not threatening.
Legible.
The women nodded in satisfaction.
"Remember," one said, "you arrive separately."
"And leave separately," the other added.
They left without waiting for acknowledgment.
Mei Lin broke the silence once the door closed. "I don't like that they watched us dress."
"It wasn't about control," Zhou Wei said. "It was calibration."
She grimaced. "That's worse."
"Yes."
The evening before the banquet, Zhou Wei felt the warmth inside him tighten unexpectedly.
Not hunger.
Warning.
He stilled, focusing inward, tracing the sensation until it resolved into clarity. Something nearby was paying attention in the same way he did. Not openly. Not aggressively.
Competently.
He did not chase it.
Instead, he adjusted routes the next day, changed timing by small increments, confirmed exits twice instead of once. Mei Lin noticed without comment and mirrored the changes.
That mattered more than reassurance.
The banquet house sat near the city's inner ridge, old stone reinforced with newer work. Guards stood at the entrance in ceremonial armor that suggested presence rather than threat. Music drifted through open windows, controlled and tasteful.
Zhou Wei arrived first.
Not early. Not late. Precisely when his absence would not be noted.
He entered, offered his name to a registrar who nodded without interest, and moved into the hall as if he had done this a hundred times before. The room was wide, tables arranged to encourage movement rather than seating. Conversation flowed in currents.
He felt the target before he saw him.
Nervous energy disguised as confidence. Ambition wrapped too tightly around self-importance.
The cousin stood near a cluster of minor nobles, laughing too loudly at something no one else found amusing. His eyes flicked constantly toward the room's entrances.
Waiting to be seen.
Mei Lin entered ten minutes later through a different door.
Zhou Wei did not look at her.
He felt her instead, presence smooth and deliberate, emotions controlled without being deadened. She moved through the room like someone who belonged anywhere she stopped.
Good.
Zhou Wei began circulating.
He spoke little. Listened more. Let his attention drift visibly, then withdraw at moments that felt deliberate. He excused himself from conversations just early enough to suggest better ones waited elsewhere.
The cousin noticed.
Zhou Wei felt the shift the moment the man's attention caught and held. Suspicion bloomed first. Then curiosity. Then unease.
Mei Lin played her part differently.
She spoke more than Zhou Wei did, but said less of consequence. She asked questions that made people explain themselves. She smiled when they revealed too much and let silence do the rest.
Twice, she ended conversations abruptly when the cousin approached, bowing politely and stepping away as if pulled elsewhere.
By the third time, his irritation was no longer contained.
Good.
The pressure built slowly.
Zhou Wei paused near a table of wine he did not drink from and allowed himself to be seen speaking quietly with a woman of moderate rank who was known for proximity to the noble house. He leaned in, listened, nodded once, then departed without conclusion.
The cousin watched the entire exchange.
Mei Lin crossed paths with Zhou Wei once near the musicians. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second.
Alignment confirmed.
The cousin finally approached Zhou Wei near the balcony doors.
"Enjoying the evening," the man asked, tone overly casual.
"Yes," Zhou Wei replied. "It's well arranged."
The cousin smiled tightly. "Lady Shen has taste."
"So I've heard," Zhou Wei said.
That was enough.
The man leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You seem… informed."
Zhou Wei tilted his head slightly, as if considering whether the comment deserved response. "I listen."
The cousin's jaw tightened. "Perhaps you listen too much."
Zhou Wei smiled faintly. "Only when it matters."
He excused himself politely and stepped away before the conversation could turn into accusation.
Behind him, the cousin stood very still.
Mei Lin felt it too. The spike of panic, sharp and immediate, barely concealed.
That was the mistake.
The rest followed without further effort.
The cousin began confronting people too quickly, pressing for reassurance, overcorrecting in public. His composure frayed. Whispers followed him instead of preceding him.
By the time the banquet ended, the room felt different.
Lighter.
Not because anything had happened, but because everyone knew something would.
Zhou Wei left through a side entrance without fanfare.
Mei Lin left fifteen minutes later, escorted by nothing more than her own calm.
They did not meet until an hour later, in a quiet street far from the banquet house.
"Well," Mei Lin said softly. "That worked."
"Yes," Zhou Wei replied. "He'll move tonight."
"And fail," she added.
Zhou Wei nodded. "Loudly."
They returned to their room just as the city settled into its late-night rhythm.
Somewhere, a noble house would begin collapsing inward.
Lady Shen would step into the gap.
And Zhou Wei understood, with unsettling clarity, that this was only the smallest demonstration she would ever require of them.