Mu Xi didn’t eat much, but she pretended to enjoy it.
Her gaze swept over every corner of the dining hall from time to time, searching for possible surveillance equipment or suspicious figures.
“Little An,” Mu Xi suddenly set down her knife and fork, lowering her voice as much as possible, “we’re being watched.”
Little An followed her gaze but saw nothing unusual.
Still, she set down her utensils as well.
“How can you tell?”
“A feeling.” Mu Xi dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin, then stood up.
“I’m full. Let’s go back.”
Little An rose as well, opening her mouth as if to say something, but was stopped by a single look from Mu Xi.
She pushed open the door.
Silver hair swayed slightly in the cool breeze blowing in from the window, her eyes sweeping her domain with alertness.
The room was still the familiar blend of dark green and deep gold.
The scenery of the Manor spread out beyond the window, yet a sense of unprecedented unease gnawed at her.
Little An followed behind and gently closed the door, concern in her eyes.
“Miss, you don’t look well.”
“Those Guards—the look in their eyes is off.” Mu Xi walked to the window, fingertips brushing the cold glass.
“On the surface they’re respectful, but there’s anxiety hidden in their eyes.”
Little An stepped up behind Mu Xi, maintaining just the right distance she asked, “Maybe it’s because the Manor’s atmosphere has been tense lately?”
“It’s not just tension.”
Mu Xi turned around, her gaze as sharp as a blade, “Wu City has a new city lord. That means Ye Lan has lost her power over there. It’s like having your backbone ripped out—badly wounded.”
Little An’s eyes flickered, her throat bobbing, “Is that good for us, or bad?”
Mu Xi walked to the ancient desk, her finger gliding across the smooth, mirror-like surface, leaving behind an invisible trail.
A cold smile tugged at her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“For me, Ye Lan’s weakening should be a good thing.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “But the problem is, her enemies will swarm in like sharks that smell blood.”
Little An’s hand tightened unconsciously and she said, “You’re worried you’ll get caught in the crossfire.”
“Smart.”
Mu Xi sat down by the bed, the silk sheets whispering beneath her, “Ye Lan treats me like a pet, but at least I know where the boundaries of the cage are. If the cage is broken by force…”
“We could escape in the chaos.” Hope flickered in Little An’s eyes, only to fade again, “But you…”
Mu Xi’s hand moved to her neck without thinking.
There was no physical collar there, yet she could feel an invisible shackle.
Her eyes darkened, as if moonlight had been swallowed by storm clouds.
“The Manor’s resources won’t last much longer.” Mu Xi abruptly changed the subject and said further, “Ye Lan losing Wu City is like losing her money tree. She’ll become even more dangerous.”
Little An took a step closer, hesitated, then spoke, “Miss, I can help you gather information. The servants in the kitchen and the Garden must know something.”
Mu Xi looked up, a flash of approval in her eyes, quickly replaced by caution, “Be careful. Don’t draw suspicion. Especially from those in the Escort Team—they’re fiercely loyal to Ye Lan.”
“I know how to be discreet.” Little An nodded, a maturity beyond her years in her eyes, “I learned a few tricks from Mrs. Karin.”
Mu Xi stood, walking to the chaise lounge, her fingers brushing over the velvet fabric.
“We need to come up with a plan—prepare for the worst.” Her voice trembled slightly, but she forced herself to remain calm.
“What’s the worst-case scenario?” Little An asked, staring unblinking at Mu Xi.
“The Manor falls. Ye Lan is killed or captured. And we…” Mu Xi’s voice sank, “We become trophies. Or sacrifices.”
Silence engulfed the room, broken only by the occasional chirp of birds outside, slicing through the oppressive air.
Little An walked to Mu Xi’s side, hesitated, then knelt before her.
“Let me massage your legs, Miss. You look so tired.” Little An’s voice was gentle, her hands already moving.
Mu Xi didn’t refuse.
Her thoughts drifted far away.
Little An’s technique was practiced, her strength just right, but it couldn’t ease the tension in Mu Xi’s heart.
She felt a sense of crisis like never before—a suffocating calm before the storm.
Night’s heavy curtain began to fall over the Manor.
In her sleep, Mu Xi’s brows knitted tightly, silver hair spilling over the dark green silk pillow.
That scent—the blend of milk and perfume—seemed especially thick in the darkness, as if it wanted to seep into the cracks of her dreams.
Little An leaned on a chair in the corner of the room, her once-straight back already slumping.
Her eyelids drooped and then fought upward, stubborn as a soldier guarding some precious thing, not daring to truly sleep.
Her fingers unconsciously rubbed the creases in her pants, the rough pads of her fingers making a faint, rustling sound against the fabric.
“Wu City… Ye Lan…” Mu Xi murmured in her sleep, voice as thin as a spider’s thread.
Little An’s head jerked up, exhausted nerves suddenly taut again.
Ever since learning of Wu City’s change of hands, Mu Xi’s anxiety had infected her, like a contagious illness.
She slumped back in the chair, eyes locked on Mu Xi, a sour ripple spreading from deep in her chest.
Little An’s fingers drifted up to her own arm, where so many stories were written—over a hundred children gone, hunger, cold—all carved invisibly into her skin.
And now, she faced a new fight to survive.
Suddenly, a deafening explosion tore through the night’s silence, the entire room shaking violently.
Cracks splintered across the walls.
Lime dust rained down from the ceiling like snowflakes onto Mu Xi’s silver hair.
“Miss!” Little An shot up from the chair, her body reacting before her mind.
Mu Xi startled awake, terror filling her still-foggy eyes.
She instinctively rolled to the far side of the bed, not realizing it was already at the edge.
“Watch out!” Little An dashed across the room in a flash, wrapping her arms around Mu Xi to shield her, turning her body so her own back took the brunt of a falling chunk of plaster from above.
Their breaths mingled in the chaos and fear.
Little An felt Mu Xi trembling in her arms—the rapid thump of her own heart was both terror and the rush of unexpected closeness.
“What was that?” Mu Xi’s voice shook.
She didn’t pull away from Little An’s embrace—at that moment, she needed the comfort, however dangerous it was to depend on it.
“A missile… or artillery shell.” Little An’s voice was tense.
She let go of Mu Xi and rushed to the window, pulling the curtain aside for a look.
The sight outside made her suck in a breath.
The once carefully-tended Garden was now leveled, thick with dust and smoke.
Firelight roared, painting the night sky an ominous orange-red.
The Forest at the back of the Garden was ablaze, flames hungrily devouring everything in their path.
“Miss, the Garden’s been bombed. The Forest is on fire.” Her tone was terrifyingly calm, something she had learned from Mu Xi.
The more dangerous the situation, the more you had to keep your composure.
Mu Xi hurried to the window, the cold glass reflecting her bloodless face.
The firelight outside danced in her eyes, stirring emotions too complex for words—fear that her premonition had come true, and a strange, unnameable expectation.
“My premonition…” Her fingers pressed against the glass, tips icy.
Cries, the thud of running feet, and shouts of command clashed and tumbled together throughout the Manor.
From the hallway outside came the urgent stamp of heavy boots, accompanied by short, frantic exchanges.