For a moment, the tavern froze.
The woman's entrance was a disruption, but not the kind that drew swords or raised shouts. Her presence was too calm, too deliberate. The way she smiled made the drunkest men put down their mugs. A predator didn't need to roar when its teeth were polished with honey.
Sitori Feiyue didn't blink. Didn't breathe.
The silk-clad woman strolled inside as if she belonged—black hair coiled into a perfect bun, eyes that gleamed like polished jade. Her voice, when it spoke again, carried the warmth of incense and the chill of poison.
"Forgive my interruption," she said, stepping toward the fire. "My sister has a fondness for old stories and unwise company."
Chu Yunzheng stood up.
"Well then, good luck to her," he said cheerfully. "Because this company? Highly unwise."
The woman's gaze flicked toward him, amused. "You must be Chu Yunzheng."
He gave a dramatic bow. "Depends. Who's asking?"
"I'm Liu Yan," she said. "And I never ask twice."
Feiyue's hand tightened beneath the table, palm brushing against her hidden dagger. Liu Yan. Former courtesan, now a whisper among spies. Half her rumors were lies. The other half were worse than truth.
Liu Yan turned back to Feiyue. "Won't you come home, Sister?"
The word twisted in the air like a blade.
"Sister?" Chu echoed, blinking between them. "You're related?"
"In a manner of speaking," Feiyue replied, voice flat. "She used to sing lullabies while poisoning noblemen."
"A girl has to start somewhere," Liu Yan said, smiling wider.
Qingya stood from his seat slowly. "If you're here for violence, take it outside."
"Oh, dear blacksmith." Liu Yan's voice dripped honey. "I came only to talk."
But Feiyue had seen the flicker of movement—one of the barmaids had slipped outside the moment Liu Yan entered. Not a coincidence.
They were surrounded.
She rose to her feet, drawing back her hood. The tavern's firelight painted her features in gold and shadow. Her fox eyes glimmered.
"No more games," Feiyue said. "You've already tried to have me killed."
"Correction," Liu Yan said. "They failed. I'm here to clean up."
With a flick of her wrist, she tossed a small sphere to the ground.
Smoke erupted.
Not like Chu Yunzheng's playful diversions—this was thick, choking, and laced with mild venom. Qingya stumbled back, coughing. Chu flipped the table over with one arm, dragging Feiyue down behind it.
"Trap?" he coughed.
"Ambush," she snapped.
Knives sliced the air. A dart struck the wood near Chu's shoulder.
Feiyue rolled beneath the table and flung two silver needles toward the doorway. A scream answered her. She grabbed Chu's wrist.
"Back exit."
"This place has one?"
"It does now."
They bolted through the kitchen, steam rising from iron pots and startled chefs scattering. A side door burst open as Feiyue kicked it down, revealing a muddy alley and three armed men.
"Block the alley!" one barked.
Chu pulled something from his sleeve. "Smoke bomb?"
"Please no—"
"Too late."
The explosion was loud, colorful, and surprisingly glittery.
Feiyue used the distraction to leap into motion, sliding between attackers like water. One man slashed where she had been. Another staggered as her needle pierced his thigh.
Chu swept his leg in a wide arc, tripping the third, and finished him with a well-placed elbow to the jaw. "You're better at this than me," he panted.
"I just don't announce it with confetti."
They broke into the open streets of Yuqian, slipping through fishmongers, wagons, and shouting vendors. Footsteps chased behind. Liu Yan's voice floated over the rooftops, sweet as ever.
"You can't run forever, Sister!"
Feiyue stopped abruptly at a narrow bridge over a canal. She looked at Chu.
"Can you swim?"
He blinked. "That depends. Do I have to?"
She threw herself over the edge.
"Oh, fantastic," he muttered—then jumped.
They hit the water hard. Cold, dark, and fast-moving. Feiyue's cloak dragged her down, but she slipped it off and kicked toward the far bank. Chu surfaced beside her, sputtering but smiling.
"Next time," he said, "we talk things through."
They crawled up the muddy slope, soaked and breathless. Feiyue looked at him—truly looked—and something shifted behind her eyes.
He wasn't just a fool with good timing.
He was surviving. With style.
Back in the city, Liu Yan stood at the bridge, her smile faded. A wet feather floated past her feet.
"You're clever, Sister," she murmured. "But I'm patient."
Hours later, hidden in the warehouse district, Chu wrung out his shirt. "So," he said, "you gonna tell me why she calls you 'sister'?"
Feiyue leaned against a pillar, drying her blade.
"She was one of the orphans adopted by my family. Grew up in the Fox Court. Learned to smile before she learned to cry."
"And now she wants you dead."
"She always did," Feiyue said. "Now she just has permission."
Chu let out a low whistle.
"Next step?" he asked.
"We find the Ember Vault," she said. "Before they do."
"And after that?"
Feiyue met his eyes. "We burn everything they've built."