Xue Liulan returned to the Imperial Study to find Xiazhi and her squad already waiting. The doors were shut tight, hiding the deadly assembly from the palace.
He entered, closed the door, and sat on the couch by the window, one leg bent casually. His sharp gaze swept over them, pausing briefly on a figure whose face was hidden by a black veil. He looked away quickly, focusing on Xiazhi.
"How many did you bring back?" He smiled lazily.
"Fifteen. No casualties."
He nodded. The raid on Guo Shangzhong's forces, alongside Suyi's Windless Blades, had been fierce. To return unscathed was impressive.
"What about her?" He pointed at the veiled woman.
Xiazhi knew he meant Murong Jin. She was the only one wearing a bamboo hat and veil.
"Master, she was injured during the assassination of the Junling Governor. Her face was scarred, so she keeps it covered. Please forgive the impropriety." Xiazhi bowed nervously.
He studied the veiled figure but said nothing. "Any news?"
"Guo Shangzhong has hidden the evidence well. It will be hard to act soon."
"He is cautious. Don't rush. Prune his branches one by one until he stands alone." Xue Liulan stood and paced.
Everyone watched him. Suddenly, Xiazhi gasped. He had stopped right in front of Murong Jin, his hand reaching for her veil.
"Master!" Xiazhi stepped forward.
"What?" He turned, catching the panic in her eyes.
"Um… her face is truly ruined. No one wears a veil in summer unless they have to, right?" Xiazhi laughed nervously.
He nodded seriously. "True."
But his hand moved again, his fingertip brushing the black silk.
Murong Jin stared at his finger through the mesh. Her hand trembled at her side, fighting the urge to reach out and hold him.
"Master!" Xiazhi pulled Murong Jin back, shielding her.
"I'm just showing concern for my subordinate. Is that wrong?" He frowned, his eyes cold.
"No, not at all." Xiazhi was sweating. Why did I agree to bring her?
"My face is ruined, but my skills are intact. Master need not worry," Murong Jin said suddenly, stepping aside to face him. "I cover my face to avoid causing offense, and because a disfigured woman is easily recognized. Leaving traces would harm the Fifteen."
Xiazhi saw his brow furrow, then relax into appreciation.
"What is your name? Such insight is rare." He smiled, hands behind his back.
She hesitated, then smiled. "Just a nameless pawn. Since Master employs without suspicion, why care about a name?"
"Well said!" He clapped. He turned to Xiazhi. "Where did you find such a talent?"
"Uh… pure coincidence. Hehe." Xiazhi wiped her forehead. Could I say I dug her out of the grave you just visited?
He didn't press further. He stared at Murong Jin. "Do I… know you?"
Xiazhi's heart leaped into her throat. Yes, Master. You do.
Murong Jin's heart tightened. She shook her head slowly. "Master and I have never met."
"Is that so? You feel very familiar." He laughed loudly, then turned away to the window, hiding his emotions.
Xiazhi exhaled. "If there is nothing else, we will take our leave."
"Good. Continue the assassinations. I will notify you when we locate the evidence."
"Yes." Xiazhi bowed and signaled the retreat.
"Wait." He turned back, walking toward Xiazhi.
"Master?" She froze.
"Xiazhi, how long have you been with me?"
"Five years." From the time Hanlu saved her from the brothel thugs until now. Six years, almost. It had changed her from a timid girl into a warrior.
"Then you must know this person." He walked to a large porcelain vase, pulled out a scroll, and tossed one end to her.
She caught it. The scroll unrolled between them. In the dim light, the painting was clear. A woman in white robes and silver armor, hair flowing in the wind, looking back with a smile that held a world of tenderness.
It was Murong Jin, as he had first seen her at the palace gate.
"Master doesn't recognize her?" Xiazhi stared at him in shock. She had heard he took Danxi to forget the Empress. She hadn't believed it. But now…
To love deeply is to forget completely.
He shook his head blankly.
Xiazhi gasped, looking involuntarily at the silent Murong Jin.
Behind the veil, tears streamed down Murong Jin's face, silent and unnoticed.
Equally unnoticed was Xue Liulan's fist, clenched tight behind his back.
As Xiazhi struggled for words, Murong Jin stepped forward. "Since Master doesn't remember, she must not be important. Why dwell on it?"
He looked at her woodenly, then smiled. "True."
He rolled up the scroll. He walked to the vase, hesitated, then tossed the scroll onto the brazier on the table.
Fire licked the paper, spreading instantly.
"Master!" Xiazhi reached out, but he blocked her. She could only watch as the painting turned to ash.
Murong Jin stood still. She had known. Since he chose to forget, there was no need to keep reminders. She had come back to help him, yes, but also to retrieve something.
Something worthless to him now, but precious to her.
The fire died. Xiazhi sighed at the ashes. "If there is nothing else, this subordinate takes her leave."
For a second, he seemed lost. But it was so brief, Murong Jin thought she imagined it.
"Go." He waved a hand, his voice weary.
The door closed. Murong Jin stood outside for a long time. She turned back. His silhouette was cast on the window paper. Clear. Etched in her heart.
She reached out, tracing his outline with her fingertip.
She stopped. Footsteps inside. Instinct took over, and she leaped onto the roof, vanishing into the shadows.
Xue Liulan opened the window, smiling at the empty courtyard. He had made the noise on purpose. With his skill, no one would hear him unless he wanted them to.
When she stood outside, he had been afraid. Afraid he wouldn't be able to stop himself from rushing out and pulling her into his arms.
But he couldn't. Even though he hadn't taken the Danxi. Even though he couldn't bear to forget a single moment of their life together.
He turned back to the couch, leaning against it in the same posture he used when she was there.
He closed his eyes, head on his arm, and sighed.
"Since I decided to let you go, why did you come back?"