Ah? Finally the spotlight’s on me. For a supporting role, snagging a line is like fighting for a seat in a crowded theater.
Hm? Who am I? Oh ho—hello. I’m Liqianyu, from the Far East, a snow-brushed horizon away.
My name trips tongues like pebbles in a stream, so I’m happy with whatever nickname you toss my way.
Haha, some folks probably don’t like me. Can’t help it—my temper’s a wild breeze that refuses a leash.
Ahem. I’m rambling.
Misery churned like a hard sea; clutching her belly, Liqianyu staggered out of the latrine.
Thinking of why she had the runs, her face stiffened like frozen clay.
That fruit was truly toxic; I’ll never be greedy again. She steadied herself against the door and wiped tears like cold dew.
In the hall, servants stood arrayed like spears along a rampart; she blinked, a puzzled bird—what bigshot now?
Seeing the state she was in, she drifted back to her room like a shadow slipping down a wall.
Sure enough, Eli sat in his wheelchair, flanked by two little girls like sparrows at the gate, watching from the dark as the Ninth Prince and ministers squabbled like frost-bitten crows.
Boredom settled like dust; Liqianyu went back to change and slip out to roam.
“Western clothes never sit right on me.” She rolled her eyes like marbles, shrugged, and pulled the outfit on; with a quick greeting to the butler, she swept out like a gust.
Snow fell like gauze over the streets; as she strolled, her tangled heart smoothed like silt in a slow river, and old memories rose like mist from a pond.
Why did Liqianyu come from the Far East at all?
If it was just training, there was no need to cross ten thousand li to the Miter Empire.
Truth is, it was for one sentence from her father, a single nail driven into the beam of her heart.
“Yu’er, in this life… your father is powerless. I can’t save you.” His face was clouded like a stormed field as he patted the little girl’s head.
“Eh? I don’t want that.” The child didn’t grasp the weight; she only leaned in like a kitten begging for warmth.
“If you can grow strong, strong enough to… sigh. Forget it.”
She carved that pained look into memory like a chisel mark on jade.
As a teen, Liqianyu chose the martial path on her own; at some point she fled home, chafing at antique lessons, and took to wandering like a leaf in wind.
Through rains and hard roads, she felt a pull like a compass needle—head northwest, and find your road.
Her power hit a bottleneck, tight as a knot in wood. To break it, she blundered into Bear Clan lands—and there she saw Eli’s fury, a winter storm wearing a human face.
She found it amusing; maybe they’d get along like fire meeting steel.
Phew, stop overthinking. She slapped her frozen cheeks, pink as cherries, pulled herself back together, and walked on toward the market.
“That Ninth Prince, really…” His manor sits flush against the market, flashy as a peacock preening on a stall. She bought a sugar cake, took a bite, and pouted.
“I don’t know what Eli’s thinking, diving into this mess. Doesn’t he see it’s bad for those two little girls beside him?”
Just as the thought flickered, Edlyn slipped into an alchemy shop like a wisp of smoke.
Liqianyu blinked, remembering Eli’s earlier look. “Eh? Isn’t that young lady glued to Eli? Her legs are faster than mine?”
She narrowed her eyes, quietly roused her Battle Aura like embers under ash, and ghosted after her.
Ninth Prince’s manor.
Eli squinted and scanned the ceiling like a hawk. When he saw Edlyn glance skyward too, he shot her a surprised look. “Edlyn, you can sense it too?”
Edlyn smiled, her expression odd as moonlight on steel. “Mm. Another Bloodkin.”
“…Heh. Impressive.” Eli breathed out and shook his head, a willow in wind.
So it’s that demon-soul again? He noted it in silence, then folded a voice into a cake with magic, neat as a secret sealed in wax. “Send it to His Highness the Ninth Prince,” he told Edlyn with a smile.
“Assassins!”
