Chapter 55: Secret Counsel

After this year's chrysanthemum feast, the talk of Dingjing's streets finally changed names.
The Lin'an Young Marquis had crushed his bastard brothers in extreme force—arrogant, insolent—yet the brilliance shown in a breath proved the jade-faced asura of the battlefield was no empty title.
The other name was "Fool" Shen Miao.
Reborn—or blood of the Shen house finally woke—she shed stupid and timid. Foot archery against Cai Lin without a flicker; sharp temper in public made peers wary.
In Guangwen Hall those who had mocked her pulled back a little.
When Cai Lin returned he stared at Shen Miao with ugly face—yet for once did not move. That day had left a shadow.
Feng Ning watched him laugh. "Never thought the tyrant would fear you now."
Shen Miao glanced—Cai Lin turned away quick, afraid. She smiled inside. In her eyes he was only a spoiled boy—not worth thought. The Cai house was not far from ruin; the gilded young master would eat bitterness soon enough.
"Word says the Xie half-brothers were badly hurt," Feng Ning sighed. "The marquis did not punish Young Marquis—doctors and rest, but really house arrest. Favor for the legitimate son—true enough."
"Where did you hear?"
"Eavesdropped my parents." Feng Ning looked proud. "Still—anyone would favor Young Marquis. And he is son of Princess Yuqing—royal blood—"
Shen Miao lifted a brow. Princess Yuqing's death in the Lin'an house always felt odd. Given how Xie Ding treated the bastards now—why had Fang lived safe when the princess died?
While she thought, Pei Lang entered.
Gentle smile on his face—he looked toward Shen Miao—met her eyes—and paused.
At the feast her show had ended his contempt. He began to sense she was not ordinary—and felt, uneasily, that she watched him in secret. A young tutor, uneasy, as if stalked—then told himself she was only a budding girl and he imagined too much.
"Why stare at him?" Feng Ning said, then gasped. "You haven't taken a liking again?"
Shen Miao never spoke Fu Xiuyi's name now—cold as if the man were forgotten. Gossip read it: she knew she could not match royalty and let go—no chase at the feast proved it. Pei was lower born but graceful, learned—girls liked him naturally.
Her head ached. She looked away. "Of course not." She was thinking: at the feast Pei had not spoken *On Conduct and Law*—so Fu Xiuyi had not prized him yet. Still a future threat in the prince's service—her face darkened—endless trouble later.
She could not kill Pei unseen now—another road was needed.
……
In Dingjing the Hundred Fragrance Pavilion sang day and night. Even at noon gauze curtains and night pearls made the floors glow. Silk and pipe drifted out—passersby stopped, envious—common wealth could not afford the place. A pot of tea cost a fortune—a true gold sink.
By the window sat a middle-aged man in rich dress—fine cloth, face fierce and lean-black. Under the robe the left leg was hollow—Prince Yu.
"Settled with the Shen house?" he asked after a silence, voice low and dull.
"Your Highness—Second Mistress Shen is arranged. In three days the Shen women go to Wolong Temple to burn incense—then—"
"Three days." Yu frowned, displeasure flashing. He waved. "Prepare what is needed. It has been long since this king met someone so… interesting."
Years of perverse cruelty—countless women dead in his hands—yet none who fought stirred him. All Ming Qi knew Shen Xin's fierce name—what would such a general's daughter taste like? At the feast Shen Miao's ruthlessness had thrilled him. A wild cat that bit back—maybe better than wooden beauties.
He licked his lip—lust in his eyes.
Across the hall, at a glass table, a white-robed man near thirty—handsome, gentle air—listened a while, then said to his companion like watching sport: "Your rescued beauty seems in trouble again."
Opposite, the purple youth lounged careless. "The Shen tree casts a large shadow—Shen Xin's fault. This is only probe. One day no one in that house will be safe."
The white man paused, turned serious. "Xie San—why strike the bastards at review? Is your plan moving early?"
Opposite was Xie Jingxing. He smiled. "Early or not—what of it?"
"If you move early—do they know?" the man hesitated.
"Gao Yang—you miss one thing. Here, I speak now." Xie's voice flat. "Drag too long—it hurts me. If the mountain won't come, I go to the mountain." Last line—eyes deeper—not a boy of seventeen at all.
Gao Yang stilled, then laughed bitter. "Fine—I came to watch you. Truth is I never had confidence to stop you." He shifted teasing: "Three days—you go to Wolong Temple too—for your inquiry—or another rescue?"
"Gao Yang—your eye is as poor as ever." Xie arched a brow. "That Shen girl is not easy prey."