Lingcai says yes like tossing a pebble into a stream, then starts packing to chase Aniel, a wind at her back.

Scarlet Leaf loves gossip, but her take on love is a blade drawn straight, no wobble.

“In short, if we find her, ask why she fled the wedding—test the knot before we pull,” she says, calm as moonlight on water. “If the rift’s too deep to mend, let it go—split the pair and let the river run its course.”

Lingcai shrugs, a willow bending under a small breeze. “We might not even find her. Why d’you care so much about someone else’s household?”

Scarlet Leaf doesn’t bother with brakes. She throws her fist up like raising a banner and rallies the air. “Move out! Let’s bring the bride back!”

“Oh—!”

LilyBell appears like a cat slipping from shadow, fist lifted too, echoing Scarlet Leaf’s shout with starry-eyed zeal.

“It’s chaotic enough. Don’t hype it up,” Lingcai says, knocking LilyBell’s head with a gourd-tap of her knuckles.

As they gear up to depart, Duke Pulin, ragged as a crow in drizzle, lifts a trembling hand like a reed in wind. “P-P-Princess… what about me…?”

Lingcai blinks, a sparrow startled mid-flight. Your wife ran; why aren’t you chasing?

Fine. The man looks pitiful, legs jelly-soft like thawing ice. Don’t push him further.

She waves him off, tone like flicking a pebble. “You? Don’t run around. Sit tight and stay put.”

The panic doesn’t leave his eyes; they’re deer at the edge of torchlight. His voice crawls into flattery like ants toward sugar. “Would this… count as turning myself in… Could I get leniency…?”

Huh?

Lingcai’s confusion fogs up, a mist rolling across a field. Turning yourself in… what?

Scarlet Leaf translates it to her own tune, like plucking a pipa string she knows. “I’m guessing he cheated? He admits it, then wants us to fetch his wife?”

Not even close; the arrow misses the target and rattles on stone.

Lingcai weighs it—a couple’s mess is a hearth-fire outsiders shouldn’t stir. She steps forward, lifting the kneeling duke like straightening a bent reed. “Then… confess on your own. Leniency or not… that’s not up to me.”

Her words twist in Duke Pulin’s ears like smoke finding new rafters. So even the Elven King is investigating the arms smuggling? If the princess can’t decide, the head-taking blade must be the Emperor’s!

“I’ll confess! I’ll confess! Please plead for me when it’s time—I’ve served the realm!” He presses both fists together, kowtowing like a chick pecking grain.

What’s wrong with this guy?

Lingcai feels the channel mismatch, two radios hissing on different frequencies, yet their lines keep linking by accident.

Before she can unravel it, Scarlet Leaf answers for her, voice warm as tea. “Relax. As long as your confession’s sincere, I’m sure she’ll go easy on you.”

In front of Lingcai and Scarlet Leaf, Aniel always showed her gentle, moonlit side; who’d guess she’s a tigress at home?

The duke hears a different chorus—her “she” becomes the Elven King, the Emperor—Thunder soften, blade sheathed if he confesses well.

He doesn’t even know who Scarlet Leaf is, but mercy falls on him like spring rain. He drops to his knees again. “Thank you for the pardon! I’ll turn over a new leaf and live straight!”

Lingcai has no time for his noisy river of words. She cuts in, crisp as snapping bamboo. “Enough. Tell us which way your wife ran. How are we supposed to chase without a trail?”

The duke stammers, thoughts shuffling like cards in shaking hands, then flicks his fingers in panic. “She… s-s-said she’s going home… My place is on Greenwind Street! Hurry! If we’re late, we’ll lose her! Better seal the coach station—she might take a carriage!”

“Sounds like she got mad and is heading to her mother’s,” Scarlet Leaf whispers at Lingcai’s ear, eyes bright like lanterns at a festival.

You just love the stir of a street market, don’t you, Lingcai thinks, dry as autumn leaves.

If we’re finding someone, it’s time for Alchemy to take the stage, drums beating under the skin.

She’s ready. Lingcai turns to the group, voice steady as a compass. “First, find anything Aniel left behind. Best if it’s something worn close to the body.”

After a quick search, they reach the duke’s lounge, where a white veil lies on the floor like shed snow. “This… covers the bride’s head, right? Master, will this do?”

LilyBell pads over, two or three light steps, lifts the veil, and sniffs like a fox. The perfume hits like a thick fog rolling off the sea. “So strong…”

“When did I become your master? I haven’t agreed.” Lingcai says it, yet she snatches the veil like a ribbon snagged by wind.

The stronger the scent, the better the trail—she nets fish by following currents.

From her alchemical satchel, Lingcai pulls a white rectangular block with a small gray screen and a few inexplicable orange buttons, a strange bird in her palm.

“Analyzer Hound Tracker! It locks onto a scent type and hunts similar molecules in the air. Higher concentration, louder alarm. Let’s begin.”

“Oh, oh…”

Scarlet Leaf and LilyBell clap, sparks dancing in their eyes.

Lingcai pops the back cover like opening a lacquer box and takes out a tiny glass vial. She snips a sliver of veil and feeds it to the vial like bait to a hook.

She seats the vial, flips the switch with a sharp snap. The device stutters to life like a cicada waking.

Scree—!

In her hand, the instrument shrieks like fingernails raking a slate.

Scree—! Scree—! Scree—!

LilyBell clamps her furry ears, rolling on the floor like a fish on dry sand, face twisted.

Scree—!—!

Scarlet Leaf can’t take it either. She plugs her ears and stamps, but the sound keeps drilling in like ice needles scraping bone.

Lingcai pays it no mind, face calm as winter pond ice, and explains like chalk sliding over a board. “When the air holds molecules similar to the sample, it sounds. Higher concentration, louder sound. The screen shows the local concentration over time.”

Screee—! Scree—!

She sees them writhing, hands over ears, words evaporating like dew. She switches to plain talk, palms open. “So, the stronger the smell, the louder the alarm. Got it? The screen shows this molecule’s concentration in the air—”

SCREE—!!!

Scarlet Leaf snaps. She raises the sheath of the Crimson Cherry Blossom Blade like a storm cloud and smashes down at the device. “Enough! Turn it off—!”