Chapter 61: Unwelcome Guest

Night thickened. The temple bell sounded its last stroke—sky like spilled ink—rain on the trees, sweet earth smell.
Shen Yue set down her book, rubbed her eyes—sleepy. Her maid asked: "Miss—rest now?"
Yue did not answer—opened the window. Next door Shen Qing—lamp still lit.
"Does Second Miss want to sleep with First Miss?" the maid asked hesitant.
"No." Yue turned with dislike. "Shut the courtyard gate."
In Qing's room Qing toyed with a trinket, yawned lazy, glanced out. "So late…" She stood. "Sleep then."
Passing the table she saw a pretty censer and a stick—sniffed—fragrant—"Light this too."
Half a quarter later—lamps out.
Silence. Deep in the old mountain temple—birds, insects, rain on tiles dripping to stone.
In that hush the innermost north pavilion room went dark too.
Footsteps seemed to skim the dark. Had anyone passed the window they would see a purple girl at the table—cold face, blank—only eyes still clear in black, beast hunting, waiting for prey.
Tiles above rustled soft. Guyu and Jingzhe behind Shen Miao looked up together, guarding her tense.
Then outside—a "meow."
Both exhaled.
Before the breath settled—quick steps, light yet loud to three wakeful ears. Window opened—a shadow leaped in.
"Miss—it is Mo Qing." he whispered.
Guyu and Jingzhe truly relaxed. Jingzhe lit a thin candle—afraid light would leak. Surprise—Mo Qing's back carried a person—Shen Qing.
Eyes shut—deep sleep. Maids feared. Shen Miao glanced Qing—flat: "Well done."
Mo Qing looked awkward. First time for such work—he thought maybe Miss was spoiled about the room—midnight swap. Rough method—one mistake and he would be called a roof-crawler—with a hundred mouths he could not explain.
Luckily outside Qing and Yue's rooms only two guards total—for a general's daughter that count was strange. He would not ask—carrying a girl was easy. Before that, by Miss Shen's order, he had mixed something into Qing's incense for heavy sleep.
"Put her on the bed." Shen Miao said.
He obeyed, pulled the quilt over Qing. Still he did not understand her aim.
"Miss—we now—" Guyu tried. Besides Shen Miao none knew the plan. Mo Qing thought childish tantrum—Guyu and Jingzhe sensed more. She was not one to swap rooms over sulk—and midnight carry was too large for petty spite.
"Go." Shen Miao glanced at the bed.
"Go?" Guyu blank. "Where?"
"To my elder sister's chamber, of course."
Mo Qing sighed inside—play indeed. Displeasure—Miss looked quiet cold yet would risk a cousin's virtue over trifle. He thought—face changed—low: "Who?"
Guyu and Jingzhe panicked.
"Were you seen coming?" Shen Miao's face darkened. If *their* side—not this fast. Ren Wanyun's thoroughness would make *him* wait longer. Why knock the moment Qing arrived—unless—her expression shifted—worst means if need be.
"I'll look outside." Mo Qing drew his sword—at the door a shadow crossed the window—fear of noise—he hissed: "Who?"—slashed out.
The black-clad man dodged easy—unknown footwork—one foot on the sill—swallowed in like a swallow—this place his element. Inside he spun—Mo Qing had no time—the man slipped aside, snatched the sword—next instant blade at Mo Qing's throat.
All stunned. Shen Miao surprised too—Mo Qing's skill had guarded her years in Qin as guard commander—now fewer than five moves—and disarmed?
Mo Qing ashamed—more fear for Shen Miao: "No feud between us—why this cruelty?"
True—the temple tonight had monks and Shen guards—none with such skill. Surprise—others hidden in Wolong?
No loosening. A small strike—Shen Miao found a fire starter, relit the dying candle.
Unexpected light—no time to hide—kill intent flashed—silence witnesses planned.
Half-dim glow—everything bare. Shen Miao's cold gaze—astonishment on the incomparable face—brow knit—cold: "Shen house girl?"
"Release my guard." Voice colder than autumn rain outside. "Young Marquis Xie."