Jingni took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold.
The room was dim, lit only by a few candles flickering in the corners, their shadows stretching and shrinking across the furniture.
The door closed slowly behind her with a soft click.
Jingni lowered her head and walked slowly toward the bed.
Her heart was racing, and her palms were slick with sweat, but her steps remained steady. It was instinct, honed over years as an assassin: no matter how panicked she felt inside, she had to keep a calm face.
"Lift your head."
A clear, bright voice reached her ears.
Jingni frowned instinctively. That voice...
It wasn't Lord Xinling!
She looked up sharply.
In the candlelight, a young man sat at the edge of the bed, watching her with an enigmatic smile.
"You're not Lord Xinling!" Jingni instinctively took a step back, her right hand already resting on the short sword at her waist.
"Lord Xinling is dead." Zhao Linchuan rose and walked toward her at an unhurried pace. "But your mission isn't complete."
Jingni watched him warily as she retreated step by step, her fingers gripping the hilt tightly.
"Do you want Lord Xinling's head?"
Zhao Linchuan closed in on her. They advanced and retreated until Jingni's back met the wall.
There was nowhere left to retreat. She could only lift her head and look up at the man, who stood more than half a head taller than her.
"What do you want?" Her voice was forced to stay calm, but she couldn't hide its faint tremble.
Zhao Linchuan lowered his head, his gaze settling on her face. Candlelight danced in his eyes, reflecting two warm points of light.
"I want you."
At his words, Jingni's heart raced even faster. She clenched her teeth, a look of resolve