The sun had not yet risen over the mountains, but Lin Xiaowei woke to the most peculiar sound. It was not the usual scratching of mice in the walls or the whistling of the wind through the broken roof. Instead, it was the rhythmic snip-snip of garden shears and the soft hum of a melody she didn't recognize.
She rubbed her eyes and stepped out of her small room. She gasped. The hallway, which had been covered in thick dust and cobwebs just hours ago, was now sparkling. The wood beneath her feet had been polished until it shone like a dark mirror.
"Good morning, Young Mistress. I trust you slept without nightmares?"
Xiaowei jumped. Lu Chen was standing at the end of the hall. He looked perfectly refreshed, as if he hadn't spent the night tossing bandits across the yard. He held a silver tray with a single porcelain cup.
"Lu Chen! What happened to the house?" she asked, her voice trembling with shock. "And where did you get... silver?"
"A butler must have his tools, Mistress," he replied smoothly, stepping closer. The scent of jasmine and something metallic—like a cold rain—followed him. "As for the house, it simply required a bit of... vigorous encouragement. I found some old supplies in the cellar. They were buried under years of neglect."
Xiaowei walked through the manor in a daze. The holes in the roof were patched. The tattered curtains had been replaced with heavy, midnight-blue silk. Even the air felt warmer, as if the cold spirits of the fallen noble house had been chased away by this strange man's presence.
"This is impossible," she whispered, touching the silk. "No one person could do all this in one night. Not unless they were..."
"A magician?" Lu Chen offered, his lips curving into a teasing smile. "Or perhaps just very, very motivated. Please, drink your tea. It is brewed from the morning's first dew and the finest leaves."
Xiaowei took a sip. It was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted, warming her from the inside out. But as she looked at him over the rim of the cup, she noticed something. His collar was high, but a small smudge of red sat on his white silk cravat.
"You're bleeding!" she cried, reaching out.
Lu Chen stepped back instantly, his movement so fast he almost seemed to blur. His expression turned guarded. "It is nothing. A minor spill while... preparing the kitchen."
"Let me see," Xiaowei insisted, her heart full of concern for the man who had done so much for her.
She reached for his neck, but Lu Chen caught her wrist. His grip was firm but gentle, his skin feeling like a block of ice against her pulse. His eyes darkened, the pupils expanding until they nearly swallowed the black irises.
"Mistress," he said, his voice dropping to a low, hungry growl. "You must not touch me so carelessly. I am a creature of many debts, but I am still a predator. Your scent... it is quite distracting."
Xiaowei froze. She could see the pulse jumping in his neck, and for a second, his shadow on the wall seemed to grow wings. She realized then that the "spill" on his collar wasn't his own blood. It was from the bandits.
He had not just chased them away. He had hunted.
"Are you... going to hurt me?" she asked softly.
Lu Chen's gaze softened immediately. He released her wrist and bowed so low his forehead nearly touched the floor. "Never. I would tear out my own heart before I let a single drop of your blood be spilled by my hand. I am your butler, Xiaowei. Your will is my only law."
He stood up, his face once again a mask of perfect, English-style politeness. "Now, if you are finished with your tea, there is a tailor waiting in the courtyard. I took the liberty of 'inviting' him to create a new wardrobe for you. He was very eager to help once I showed him my... collection of old coins."
Xiaowei looked out the window. Indeed, a terrified-looking tailor was setting up his fabrics in the yard, glancing nervously at the front gate.
"Lu Chen," Xiaowei said, a small smile finally forming on her lips. "I think life with you is going to be very strange."
"Strange is merely another word for 'interesting,' Mistress," he replied, his eyes twinkling with a hidden, ancient fire.