Su Residence · Early Morning
After thinking of her father from the modern world, Su Mo— Iris—had cried for most of the night.
She hadn't slept at all. Her eyes were red and swollen, dark shadows heavy beneath them.
"Crimsonfire City…"
Iris murmured the name under her breath.
"What kind of place is it? What did Dad go there for?"
Grief didn't hold Iris for long.
Emotion, she knew, was the greatest enemy of truth.
She reached beneath the pillow and took out the sketch again.
Her fingers traced the edge of the paper—where an almost imperceptible section had been deliberately pressed flat.
"The fiber direction is wrong," Iris said quietly, modern logic clicking into place.
This wasn't treated like traditional drawing paper.
It resembled acid-free archival paper used in modern laboratories to preserve biological samples.
"System," Iris called coldly.
"System. Stop playing dead. Crimsonfire City's records. Or Dr. Wei's coordinates. Name your price."
[Ding! Current level insufficient.]
[Crimsonfire City–related archives are classified as Grade A.]
The mechanical voice remained indifferent.
[Hint: Upon reaching 30% task progress, one 'Keyword Search' function may be unlocked.]
Thirty percent.
Iris glanced at the current 18% progress indicator, her gaze hardening.
That meant only one thing—she would have to sink deeper into this vortex of power.
"Miss! Miss!"
Her personal maid, Xiao Tao, rushed into the courtyard, breathless.
"Hurry! To the front hall! Prince Chen—Prince Chen is here!"
Iris shot upright.
"What is he here for?" Iris asked, startled.
"To arrest me?"
"No!" Xiao Tao shook her head hard, face flushed.
"Prince Chen didn't bring any officials. Just a few personal guards.
The steward is receiving him and told you to come at once."
…
Su Residence · Front Courtyard
There was no chaos—only an unsettling quiet.
When Iris stepped inside, she saw her nominal "father," Master Su, frozen in an awkward half-squat,
holding a cup of West Lake Dragon Well tea that had long gone cold.
"Y-Your Highness… please have some tea…"
A drop of sweat slid from Master Su's forehead and hit the floor.
Prince Chen didn't even lift his eyes.
Ying Yi stepped forward and calmly pushed the teacup away with the sheath of a sword.
"Step back. Prince Chen does not drink anything prepared outside."
Prince Chen sat in the main seat, as if the residence belonged to him and the Su family were nothing more than dust beneath his feet.
When Iris appeared, the tapping of the folding fan paused—just for a moment.
Those sharp, perceptive eyes swept over her swollen eyelids.
Master Su seized the chance like a lifeline.
"Why aren't you kneeling to apologize to Your Highness at once?!"
Prince Chen's movement stopped.
A faint crease formed between his brows.
Without drawing attention, Prince Chen stepped forward half a pace.
The move seemed casual, yet it precisely blocked Master Su's accusatory line of sight, placing Iris fully within Prince Chen's cold, imposing shadow.
"What happened to you?"
The tone was as sharp as ever.
Yet the sight of Iris's red, swollen eyes stirred a single thought—
Why was this woman crying?
"Out stealing last night?"
"Those dark circles are something else."
Iris stopped and rolled her eyes.
"Prince Chen came all the way here at dawn just to comment on my face?"
She stepped closer, offering only a shallow bow.
"If you are here for entertainment, you can leave now."
Master Su broke out in a cold sweat, frantically signaling at Iris.
Ancestor, that's Prince Chen. Please watch your words.
Prince Chen wasn't offended.
Instead, Prince Chen stepped closer, lifting a loose strand of Iris's hair with the folded fan.
A trace of amusement flickered in those eyes.
"If I wanted entertainment," Prince Chen said lightly,
"the palace has plenty of trained monkeys."
"There'd be no need to visit this broken place."
The distance between them narrowed.
Close enough for Iris to catch the cool, clean scent of sandalwood, overwhelming the greenery of the courtyard.
"Then why are you here?" Iris asked, looking up.
Prince Chen withdrew the fan and gestured behind him.
A guard stepped forward, holding a tray draped in red cloth.
One corner was lifted, revealing a flash of luminous silver-white fabric.
"Flowing Light Brocade," Prince Chen said evenly.
"Western Regions tribute. One bolt only. My elder brother (the Crown Prince) passed it on to me."
The fan tapped lightly against his palm, deliberately indifferent.
"It repels dust. Liquid doesn't cling."
"Perfect for someone who crawls through morgues all day, reeking of corpses."
"So you won't dirty my eyes when you enter the palace tomorrow night."
"For me?" Iris was genuinely surprised.
She reached out to take the tray. The moment her fingers touched the fabric—cool as snow—the mechanical voice rang out.
[System detected special material. Synchronizing data…]
[Item: Flowing Light Brocade]
[Rarity: Royal Exclusive (Extremely Rare)]
[Passive Effect 1: Lotus-Leaf Effect — exceptional hydrophobicity. Liquids bead and slide off. No adhesion of blood, wine, or corrosive fluids.]
[Passive Effect 2: Absolute Barrier — blocks 99.9% of bacteria and odors.]
A slight curve appeared at Iris's lips.
This wasn't silk. It was ancient-era top-tier protective gear.
Iris looked up, sincerity entering her eyes.
"Thank you, Your Highness."
"I'll accept this… protection."
Then Iris did something that plunged the entire hall into silence.
Instead of delight, Iris turned and strode to the tea table, lifted the untouched pot of cold tea, and—amid horrified gasps—poured it straight over the priceless brocade.
"Miss has gone mad!" The steward slammed headfirst into a door-frame.
Splash.
Brown tea struck the silver-white fabric—
and failed to soak in.
The liquid gathered into round beads, bounced, and rolled cleanly off the surface before vanishing onto the floor.
The cloth remained perfectly dry, not even retaining a trace of tea fragrance.
"Excellent hydrophobic performance. Stable molecular structure."
Iris rubbed the damp area, eyes gleaming with scientific intensity.
Ignoring Prince Chen's stiffened expression, Iris smiled.
"With this," Iris said,
"I won't have to worry about corpse fluid seeping through my clothes during advanced decomposition autopsies and causing skin infections."
Prince Chen's grip on the fan tightened. Knuckles whitened.
"Su Mo," Prince Chen said flatly.
"You never miss a chance to disgust me."
"Tomorrow," Prince Chen continued, gaze steady.
"There will be a banquet at the palace."
"You're coming with me."
Iris curved her lips into a deliberate smile.
"Your Highness," Iris said,
"as far as I know, tomorrow's banquet is a family dinner hosted by the Emperor."
She leaned half a step closer, lifting her chin.
The eyes were swollen, yet bright.
"So may I ask—"
"what identity will I attend under?"
The air thickened.
The steward and servants wished desperately to block their ears—yet listened anyway.
Prince Chen looked at the woman who refused to let the question pass.
The tapping fan came to a halt.
"Identity?" Prince Chen said calmly,
"That's for outsiders."
Prince Chen stepped forward.
The distance vanished.
Before Iris could react, Prince Chen leaned close to her ear.
Warm breath brushed the sensitive curve, sending a faint electric itch through her skin.
"By my side," Prince Chen murmured,
"you can be whoever you want."
Iris's heart missed a beat.
Her ears flushed red.
Before Iris could recover, Prince Chen had already straightened and stepped back.
The momentary closeness vanished, as if it had never existed.
Casual arrogance returned.
"If I want to take you," Prince Chen said,
"I will."
Prince Chen glanced at Iris once more.
Beneath the composure, something soft—almost expectant—flickered.
"Go back and rest."
"I'll come for you tomorrow."
I'm in trouble, Iris sighed inwardly.
This was supposed to be a plan.
A task. A way home.
But that moment—
She could no longer tell.
Whether Prince Chen was strategy…
or a mistake.
[Warning: Elevated heart rate may impair logical judgment.]