Only.

The idea was lush as spring leaves; reality was a bare winter branch.

Nana Toki didn’t finish off Lu Yu in the end, shackled by that damned stage main quest.

The System had etched a cold rule like iron chains: a perfect maid keeps a forgiving heart toward anyone who harms her.

In short, a kill-ban—rolled out by the System like frost, choking Nana Toki’s hot urge to one day personally end the protagonists.

It’s just a scare, a passing storm; did he need to flail like a cat in a bath?

She lifted the Black Great Axe from Lu Yu’s throat, lips twisting like a petulant crescent moon.

Her own System loved to drag her by the collar, always against her, like wind against an umbrella.

Nana Toki suspected the System was an undercover mole from the world’s golden leads, a spider spinning silk in her own room.

Knowing Nana’s temper like a map, the System only rolled its eyes, a pebble skimming a still pond.

No one could tell if this woman’s words were water or smoke; without a leash, she might’ve really slit his thread of life.

In short—

“This person pushes the main story forward. Must not kill.”

That was the System’s original line, a bell toll in her head.

“Count yourself lucky. My lady is here today; it’s not a day for spilled blood. I’ll spare you.”

Nana Toki let the Black Great Axe rest, ready to wave Lu Yu off like dust from a sleeve.

Surviving by a hair, Lu Yu saw this lunatic maid ease up and felt sunlight crack through clouds.

He started to rise, but Qingyu Si planted a heel on him like a paperweight, then spoke slow as winter rain: “Kill him if you want. I’ll handle what comes.”

She thought Nana hesitated because of his identity, so she laid her cards down like tiles: “The Si Family’s web runs deep. I tell Grandfather, one death won’t shake the pillars.”

Lu Yu’s face went ellipses, a wilted line in a thunderstorm.

Great. Freed by one lunatic, pinned by another. His horoscope was probably ink-black today.

Under Qingyu’s shoe, he wanted to cry without tears, a river dammed behind his eyes.

But Nana wasn’t afraid; she simply couldn’t kill. The rule was a lock, and she held no key.

The System’s task left her nowhere to turn, a chessboard boxed tight.

“It’s fine. Just a scratch. Forget paying with blood; his life isn’t worth my wrist.”

Nana Toki flicked her hand, casual as a cat: “I’m not some blood-drunk butcher. I don’t kill for kicks.”

Lu Yu’s mouth twitched, a string pulled too hard. Weren’t you the loudest voice chanting for my head?

“But your wrist—”

Qingyu Si glanced at Nana’s injured arm, eyes knotting like ivy.

That wound came from shielding her; the blame sat on her shoulders like a wet cloak.

“It’s small. Ten days and it’s spring again. Don’t fuss.”

Nana soothed Qingyu, then sliced a glare at Lu Yu like a cold blade: “What now? Still lying there waiting for death? Get up and prove your identity.”

“Prove what, how…”

Bullied with a double standard, Lu Yu crawled up like a drenched dog: “I’m just a regular soldier. How do I prove that?”

“Documents, genius. Documents.”

Nana gave him a look like a broom sweeping trash: “Did you leave your brain at home?”

“…Fine.”

He fished out small booklets from his pocket, hands slow as molasses, and passed them over, soul questioning its life choices.

Never in his life had he pictured getting called brainless by a maid, a slap like a handprint on his pride.

Nana skimmed the papers, eyes moving like lanterns in fog. After a breath, she looked back, voice oddly amused: “You’re really military. Nice. A squad captain too.”

Lu Yu’s thoughts went silent, a chalkboard wiped clean. So she hadn’t believed a single word earlier.

“Of course I’m military. Faking service gets you shot. No poetry in that ending.”

He snatched his booklets back, a wounded cat bristling: “What about you? Are you truly an ordinary maid?”

With moves like hers, he wondered if she fell off some classified page on special forces.

That line hooked Qingyu’s attention like a fish. Her maid felt different lately, unlike the old Shutong An; if Lu Yu hadn’t poked, she’d have drifted past it.

“I am a perfectly ordinary maid.”

Nana Toki folded her arms like a throne and wore a lord’s face: “Don’t believe me? Want to see my maid credential? It’s thicker than yours, gilded letters that shine.”

The conversation hit a wall, a kite snagged on a branch.

Her noise drew heavy footsteps; next door’s heavy-armored troopers drifted over like storm clouds, pushing the door with shields up.

They saw their captain wearing a look like a cracked mask, and all four froze, statues in a temple.

“Quit standing like posts. We got fed bad intel. The thieves who hit the armory aren’t here.”

Lu Yu waved them in, voice a guiding beam, and laid out the messy road behind them.

“Speaking of which, I killed a couple of your guys earlier. Is your big boss going to put me on the ledger?”

As Lu Yu explained, Nana remembered those troopers she’d shot, the memory a bullet casing still warm.

Would that bloom into a thorny problem?

Silence dropped like snow. Five pairs of eyes snapped to her, full of doubt, shock, confusion, and that uniquely male wince.

Yes, the wince belonged to Lu Yu, pain like a nail in a boot.

This girl always touched the sore spot, drumming the bruise. Would she only smile if his four men got mad?

Looking at Nana’s calm face, Lu Yu wanted to die a bit, a candle guttering.

If he could beat her, he’d challenge her to a 1v1, swords to moonlight.

“It was a string of accidents. Unfair as bile, but you bear no blame.”

Lu Yu covered his face like a curtain: “The bad intel came from inside the military. Those people will carry our losses.”

“Oh.”

Nana Toki let out a breath, a bird released from the hand. She’d thought someone would hound her; turned out she worried for nothing.

“If we’re done here, I’ll take my lady home.”

Enough chaos for days; busy as a beehive, Nana only wanted a hot bath and a bed like a soft lake.

“We still need your take on the munitions—”

Lu Yu tried to fish for details, a hook cast into haze.

But Nana had cut the line. She dusted off her apron, took Qingyu Si’s hand, and headed for the door like wind through reeds.

“Talk to the woman in the next group. She’s a police captain at the Public Security Bureau. She knows crime like maps. Ask her.”

Lu Yu watched the maid pull a girl away, a storm departing, and swallowed a mouthful of bitterness like cold tea.

Damn it. Those comms clowns fed me garbage. When I get back, I’ll skin their hides like old rugs.

He cursed the false messengers under his breath, words like sparks, then led his remaining troopers back into the neighboring hall.

They didn’t seek Zixia Chen yet. First, they reclaimed the bodies of the four heavy troopers Nana had dropped, grief quiet as ash.

They checked every weapon, eyes combing like fine teeth. No misses. Then they slipped out under the veil of smoke grenades and tear gas.

Behind them, a crowd stayed dazed, questions hanging like lanterns with no oil.

In the end, Yiwei Yang got shipped to the hospital, wounds bandaged like winter fields.

Huaiyue Qin and the Yuehong Hotel executives were brought by Zixia Chen to the Bureau for routine questions, the hall cold as stone.

Chen believed the gala’s disaster sprouted from Huaiyue Qin’s hand, suspicion a thorn in her pocket.

But evidence was a patchy net, and a few hours later, Huaiyue Qin and her people walked free, shadows trailing but chains gone.

The black-market kidnappers stayed mouths-locked, their silence a vault without a key.

Back at the station, Zixia Chen was driven mad, a pot boiling dry. She stayed overtime, grilling them under harsh lights.

Meanwhile, released and alone, Huaiyue Qin walked toward her apartment, anger a coal growing red.

She hadn’t been hurt, but the hotel’s reputation wore stains like ink on silk, spreading where eyes gathered.

Honor was her banner; shame felt like grit in her teeth, bitter and grinding.

If her family heard, lectures would rain like monsoon.

It was all Qingyu Si’s fault, that thorn in her garden, a weed that wouldn’t pull.

She got no advantage, only trouble clinging like burrs.

Huaiyue Qin ground her teeth, a millstone turning.

She hadn’t seen Qingyu at the hotel and secretly wished Qingyu and her annoying maid got snatched, tortured, and erased like chalk.

Then she wouldn’t have to see those two gnats again.

She slammed her apartment door, a clap of thunder in a box.

She thought of a bath, steam to lift the day’s weight, and walked toward the living room like stepping into a pool.

Before she entered, a silhouette on the sofa froze her blood, a shadow sitting like a stone in the dark.

“Who are you?”

She stayed at the threshold, eyes narrowed like blades, not daring a step inside.

She had just upgraded the security, walls tight as a fortress. How did anyone slip in like smoke?

“Miss Qin, don’t be so tense.”

The silhouette knew her name and stood with a smile like silk, drifting out of the darkness.

Seeing his face, Huaiyue Qin’s pupils shrank like a tide pulled by the moon: “You’re… from the Si Family?”