After closing the door, Little An still couldn’t calm down, pacing back and forth in the room.
“They went too far! How could they dare insult you like that! Next time I see them, I’ll make sure they pay for it!”
Mu Xi sat down on the Noblewoman’s Couch, the velvet fabric beneath her feeling fine and icy cold, just like her heart at this moment.
“Little An,” her voice was eerily calm, “do you really think Ye Lan is dead?”
Little An’s steps came to an abrupt halt.
“What?” She spun around in shock, “You mean…”
“I don’t know.” Mu Xi gazed out the window, her eyes drifting through stained glass and landing on the distant woods, “But the news spread too quickly, too smoothly.”
Little An moved closer, kneeling at Mu Xi’s feet, her face full of concern, “No matter what happens, I’ll always protect you. Whoever tries to hurt you will have to step over my dead body first.”
“Mm.” Mu Xi lifted her head, her long silver hair shining with a cool sheen under the dim lights.
Her fingertips tapped lightly on the armrest of the Noblewoman’s Couch, each tap like a countdown to the passage of time.
“I’m afraid tonight won’t be peaceful.”
Her voice was so soft it was almost drowned by the howling wind outside the window, but her eyes were startlingly clear.
“With Ye Lan gone, I’ve become the easiest prey. They won’t let this chance slip by.”
Little An’s body tensed sharply, muscles drawing taut beneath her uniform in a posture of vigilance.
Still kneeling, she pressed her right hand to her chest, a determined fire burning in her eyes.
“I understand, Young Mistress. Whoever dares step through this door will never walk out in one piece.” Little An’s voice was resolute.
Time ticked by in tense silence.
Outside, the sky gradually darkened.
Mu Xi’s gaze kept darting between the door and the window.
Every small sound made her heart seize.
“Who do you think will come first?” Little An’s voice broke the silence.
She stood beside the door, fingers resting on her blade’s hilt, “Those bastard Guards, or someone else?”
Mu Xi didn’t answer immediately.
She walked to the window, fingertips brushing the cold glass.
The world outside had already been swallowed by darkness.
The Manor’s lights were like gems scattered across black velvet—cold and distant.
“I don’t know,” she finally replied softly, a glint of calculation flickering in her eyes, “I hope it’s someone good.”
Little An’s breathing sounded especially heavy in the quiet room.
Her body was drawn tight like a bow, every muscle ready to spring, the lines of her abs faintly visible beneath her uniform.
Sweat slid from her forehead, gathering at her chin before dropping soundlessly onto the carpet.
In the darkness, time grew blurry and long.
Mu Xi could almost hear her own heartbeat.
When the world outside was finally pitch-black, a knock suddenly sounded—crisp and rhythmic.
Little An reacted on instinct, half-drawing her blade.
But Mu Xi raised her hand to stop her.
“It’s the agreed signal,” Mu Xi whispered quickly, a hint of hope flashing in her eyes.
“Let me open the door.”
Little An frowned, watching Mu Xi with doubt and caution in her eyes.
“Young Mistress, it’s too dangerous! At least let me—”
“Do as I say.” Mu Xi’s voice was gentle but brooked no refusal; her gaze told Little An this was a secret she couldn’t be a part of.
Little An bit her lip, reluctantly stepping aside, though her hand remained tight on her weapon, ready to spring at any moment.
Mu Xi took a deep breath and strode to the door.
When her fingers touched the cold doorknob, her heartbeat almost burst from her chest.
In that instant, she remembered the darkness of the Dungeon, the melody of the Practice Room, and the unfathomable eyes of He Yi.
The door cracked open, and the hallway light pierced the room like a blade.
He Yi’s figure flashed outside—so fast she was nearly invisible.
Only a hand darted through the gap, pressing a small bottle into Mu Xi’s palm.
“Tears of Oblivion,” He Yi’s voice was like a whisper in the wind, gone in an instant, “Don’t waste it.”
Mu Xi’s fingers clamped tightly around the small bottle, feeling its chill and weight.
Before she could say a word, He Yi’s figure had already vanished into the corridor’s darkness, leaving only the faintest trace of footsteps behind.
Mu Xi shut the door quickly, leaning against the door panel, her heart pounding madly in her chest.
She raised the small bottle in her hand—the transparent liquid inside shimmered with a dangerous light under the lamp.
Little An stepped from the shadows, her eyes full of suspicion and caution, “What’s that? Who gave it to you?”
Mu Xi’s lips curled into a complicated smile.
She held the bottle up to the light, studying the liquid within as if it were a lifesaving medicine.
The thing glowed with a strange blue light, clinging viscously to the bottle’s inner walls, slowly swirling.
“This is the Tears of Oblivion,” she handed the crystal bottle to Little An, her gaze complex, “but I’m not sure if it’s real.”
Little An took the bottle, her rough fingers brushing briefly against Mu Xi’s soft ones.
“Young Mistress, this is a poison for killing, right?” Little An’s voice was almost a whisper, her Adam’s apple bobbing with tension.
Just looking at it, it didn’t seem like anything good.
Mu Xi nodded, her silver hair shimmering with a cold gleam in the light.
“But I have to make sure it’s really Tears of Oblivion,” Mu Xi’s voice was like water flowing under ice—calm, yet surging beneath.
“Let’s go now. We don’t have time to waste.”
Footsteps sounded outside the room, precise and orderly, each one striking their nerves like a drumbeat.
Those people from earlier in the day had arrived.
“Those mongrels.” Little An quickly stuffed the poison back into Mu Xi’s hand, her body already poised to fight.
“Young Mistress, what’s your plan?”
Mu Xi’s mind raced as her gaze swept the room.
French windows, Noblewoman’s Couch, desk, bed.
Finally, she settled on the heavy oak door.
“Help me barricade the door,” Mu Xi swiftly dragged a suitcase from under the bed.
“We’ll go out the window, to the storage room first, then to the Dungeon.”
Little An froze for a moment, then immediately understood Mu Xi’s intent.
She quickly pushed the heavy desk to the doorway, sweat dripping down her forehead and soaking the back of her uniform.
Mu Xi pulled a few clothes from the wardrobe and packed them skillfully into the suitcase.
“You were prepared for this, Young Mistress?” Little An, after moving the desk, also dragged the Noblewoman’s Couch over, veins bulging on her arms.
Mu Xi gave a bitter smile, her eyes dimming as she said, “If you don’t prepare for the worst, you won’t survive to see another day.”
The footsteps stopped outside, followed by a polite but cold knock.
“Miss Mu Xi, we’re here to protect you.”
“Young Mistress, there’s no time,” Little An grabbed Mu Xi’s wrist, the calluses of her palm scraping against Mu Xi’s skin.
“They’re going to break in!”
Mu Xi nodded and then the two hurried to the French windows.
Little An went first, gripping the window frame with both hands, her body hanging in the air seven stories high.
In the pitch-black night, the lights of the Manor looked like scattered gems, emanating a faint chill.
“Walk along the edge of the windowsill,” Little An extended her hand, her eyes filled with unyielding determination.
“Stay close to the wall. Don’t look down.”
Mu Xi hung the suitcase and poison on herself, took a deep breath, and reached out to grasp Little An’s hand.
Her palm was hot and rough, yet filled Mu Xi with an immense sense of security.
Just as she stepped outside the window, the door was smashed open.
The female Guards burst into the room, only to find the curtains swaying in the breeze.
“Where did they go? Search!”
Mu Xi and Little An pressed themselves against the wall, moving step by step toward the neighboring storage room.
The cold wind pierced Mu Xi’s thin clothes, but her blood ran cold from fear.
At that moment, she actually missed the nauseating stench of the Dungeon—it at least meant some kind of safety.
“Three more steps, Young Mistress,” Little An’s voice was almost torn apart by the wind.
“Careful where you step.”