Just as she was gazing at the handkerchief, her eyes filled with deep nostalgia and her lips curved into a shy, sweet smile, pressing the blood-stained cloth against her cheek with half-lidded eyes, her face flushed with intoxication, a knock came at the door.
“Who is it? Didn’t I say I was resting? It’s so late—can’t whatever it is wait until morning?”
Startled by the noise, Mu Wanjun hastily tucked the handkerchief back into place and covered it, then glared at her door in irritation.
“Miss, Lian’er is here to see you. She says the master has urgent business with you.”
The voice outside the door was respectful but helpless in the face of Mu Wanjun’s outburst.
“Lian’er? What does she want with me? Where is she?”
Hearing that it was one of the two maids who often attended her father, Mu Wanjun reluctantly got up and pulled open the door, eyeing her personal maid, Xiaochun.
“She’s outside, Miss…”
Xiaochun, though nervous under her mistress’s displeasure, answered respectfully.
“Fine. I’ll go see her. Lian’er, it’s so late—I’m sorry to trouble you. By the way, do you know why my father wants to see me?”
Though annoyed, Mu Wanjun grabbed a robe and slipped it on. Outside, she saw Lian’er and another maid waiting in the corridor with a lantern. As she followed Lian’er, she cautiously asked.
“Third Miss, don’t worry. The master just has a few questions for you. He’s waiting in the flower hall up ahead. You can go in alone.”
Seeing Mu Wanjun’s rare display of nervousness, Lian’er smiled reassuringly. She led her to the flower hall in the front courtyard, where a dim light glowed inside, then stopped at the door.
“Very well.” Realizing she wouldn’t get any answers from Lian’er, Mu Wanjun suppressed her suspicions—her father had injured his hand and claimed he was exhausted, so why was he meeting her in the guest hall?—and nodded before stepping inside.
“Father…”
Entering the hall, she found it brightly lit but empty. Cautious and puzzled, she reminded herself that Lian’er and the others were just outside, then gathered her courage and moved deeper, calling softly as she approached the side chamber behind the screen.
But just as she reached the screen, a figure emerged from behind it.
“You…”
Seeing that it was Wanqing, Mu Wanjun froze in shock and instinctively turned to leave—only to find the hall’s doors closing behind her, with the red-clad Honglian standing guard, a sword in hand.
“Father isn’t here. It’s me who wanted to see you.”
Watching Mu Wanjun’s flustered and furious reaction to their appearance, Wanqing smiled faintly and calmly took a seat on a nearby stool.
“Mu Wanqing, I don’t think we have anything to say to each other. Call off your maid, or I’ll scream.”
Wanqing’s leisurely demeanor unnerved Mu Wanjun. Remembering the woman’s ruthless reputation, she suppressed a shudder, but since she’d never directly opposed her, she took a few deep breaths, clenched her fists, and glared coldly.
“You can scream, but no one will come until I’ve said my piece. Or you can try to leave, but my maid’s sword isn’t just for show.”
Wanqing gave her a dismissive glance, poured herself tea, took a slow sip, then set the cup down with a serene smile.
“Fine. Say what you came to say. I’m listening.”
Seeing that neither threats nor warnings worked, Mu Wanjun swallowed her anger and sat down stiffly.
“I’m here on Father’s behalf. He said that while Eldest Sister’s affairs have always been left to the madam, you—his daughter, only half a year younger than me—are now of marriageable age. He’s arranged for you to wed the son of Squire Liu from Liu Family Lane outside the city. Once you marry in, you’ll be the household’s mistress.”
Mu Wanjun’s bravado in the face of fear amused Wanqing, who found her defiance almost admirable. Suppressing a smirk, she continued with her rehearsed speech.
“What? Squire Liu? Who is he? What does his family do?”
Mu Wanjun couldn’t believe her father would ignore Eldest Sister’s situation, but the mention of marriage sent a chill down her spine. She shot to her feet, fists clenched at her sides.
“Don’t panic. Though they’re not nobility, the Lius are a well-known textile merchant family—even supplying the imperial court. Father says you’ll be respected and happy there. I’ve met the young master myself—he’s decent.”
Wanqing’s casual tone only fueled Mu Wanjun’s disbelief.
“A merchant? Mu Wanqing, don’t lie to me! I may not be the eldest daughter, but I’m still the madam’s child. There’s no way I’d marry a merchant! You’re using Father’s name to mock me—I’ll go ask him myself!”
The idea of being wed to a merchant made Mu Wanjun’s blood boil. She raised her voice and stormed toward the door—only for Honglian’s sword to block her path.
“You…”
Trembling with rage, Mu Wanjun could only glare daggers at Wanqing, who approached leisurely.
“Father said the wedding is in three days. Until then, you’ll stay quietly in the manor and prepare.”
Wanqing’s smirk widened as Mu Wanjun seethed in helpless fury.
“Mu Wanqing, you dare imprison me? I—what did you do to me? I…”
Already furious about the marriage, the three-day deadline sent Mu Wanjun into a rage—but before she could react, Wanqing struck.
Her body went limp, and she collapsed onto a nearby couch, supported by Honglian. Watching Wanqing retract a slender silver needle from her sleeve, Mu Wanjun tried to scream, to curse, but could only tremble in fear.
“Relax. You’re my sister—I won’t harm you. But if you refuse to obey and board the bridal sedan in three days, the poison on that needle will slowly consume your organs. By then…”
Wanqing leaned in, her smile chillingly sweet as she left the threat unfinished.
“You…”
Mu Wanjun’s face paled with terror and fury. She struggled to rise, only to stagger and fall, clutching her chest in pain. Her eyes burned with hatred—if looks could kill, Wanqing and Honglian would have been reduced to ashes.
“To keep you from causing trouble, I’ve sealed your voice and poisoned you. Be a good bride and prepare for your wedding. Honglian, take her back. And remember—behave, or I might not give you the antidote. In three days, you’ll be dead.”
As Mu Wanjun’s lips moved soundlessly, Wanqing chuckled coldly and motioned for Honglian to drag her away.
Helpless, Mu Wanjun could only mouth silent curses as Honglian hauled her out by the collar without a shred of pity.
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