The morning sun was soft over the rooftops of the eastern villages, but Lian Yue was already awake, moving with quiet purpose through the corridors of the House of Flowing Silk. Her veil, a delicate plum blossom pattern on pale pink silk, rested lightly over her face, hiding the sharp intelligence in her ash-blue eyes.
Today, her steps were not for performance. She had received reports overnight: a minor noble in the eastern provinces had been seen whispering with soldiers, plotting something unclear but dangerous. The House could not be caught off guard.
She called a small circle of her most trusted dancers Qiao Fen, Mei Ran, and Lin Tao. "We travel lightly," she instructed. "We need information without drawing attention." Her voice was soft but commanding. Every dancer knew instinctively to obey.
The journey was quiet, punctuated only by the rustle of silk and the occasional clink of jewelry hidden beneath her robes. Lian Yue's mind raced through every scenario: spies, mercenaries, nobles eager to see her fail. Every movement she made was measured, every glance deliberate.
As they neared the market square, her ash-blue eyes caught a flash of movement at the far end. A tall figure stood near a tea house, observing the crowd with sharp, calculating eyes. His posture, his confidence, the faint glint of a sword at his side it was him.
Prince Shen Yi.
For a heartbeat, Lian Yue paused mid-step. He was nothing like the rumors described: calm, observant, and far more commanding than the palace portraits suggested. Her mind cataloged him quickly strategic, cautious, intelligent. And though her veil hid her face, she felt the pull of curiosity, a thread she could not ignore.
Before she could decide her next move, a commotion erupted nearby. A merchant stumbled, spilling goods onto the street, and a pair of masked figures lunged from the shadows. Lian Yue moved instantly, her hands flowing like water, her feet twisting with the grace of her dance. In moments, the attackers were disarmed, their weapons scattered across the cobblestones.
The crowd barely realized what had happened; to them, it was a miraculous feat by a mysterious woman in pink. But to Lian Yue, it was a reminder her enemies could appear anywhere, and she could never afford a lapse.
Prince Shen Yi's eyes met hers briefly during the chaos. There was recognition, curiosity, something unspoken but no words were exchanged. Then, as quickly as it began, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving her with the weight of his gaze lingering behind her veil.
Later, back at the House, Lian Yue unfolded a folded note slipped under her door by Lin Tao. The handwriting was precise, almost elegant:
"The noble's plans are larger than expected. They know of the House's influence. Exercise caution. Prince Shen Yi may return to these parts sooner than anticipated."
Her lips curved slightly under her veil. Fate had begun to weave itself around her carefully laid plans, and the prince's presence would complicate everything yet perhaps, in his intelligence and power, he could be an unexpected ally.
She turned toward her dancers, calm and serene. "Prepare the east posts. We may have visitors."
The House of Flowing Silk, serene and graceful to the public, had already begun its quiet war. And at its center, Lian Yue, veiled yet vigilant, smiled. The threads of revenge, intrigue, and perhaps even love were beginning to intertwine.