Ai Mu locked herself in her chambers after the confrontation in the side hall—ostensibly to rest, but truly to fortify her defenses. She was no longer content to merely play the role of the noble Lady. She began absorbing the world around her with hunger and precision, treating it as a battlefield for survival.
She ordered Qing Dai to bring her volumes of The Laws of Feng Dynasty, Geography of Great Feng, and recent Court Bulletins. Her desk overflowed with scrolls and documents. By day, she immersed herself in study, her slender fingers tracing faded ink, her gaze sharp as a scalpel. She dissected not only the empire's laws and borders, but also its political undercurrents. She discovered that while the Ai household held hereditary nobility and imperial favor, it was not without enemies. The Rui faction had long opposed them—and the Ministry of Works, home to Gu Liang's family, seemed closely aligned with Rui.
The realization chilled her. Did Gu Liang know? Was his visit to "confirm" her identity mere coincidence—or a calculated move within a larger scheme? Was the lake incident truly an accident?
At night, when the estate fell silent, she dismissed her attendants and trained alone. Drawing from fragmented memories and modern combat techniques, she practiced basic martial arts. Her movements were clumsy at first, but her body was strong. Sweat soaked her undergarments, grounding her in physical control. Strength—of mind and body—was her only shield.
She knew Gu Liang was watching, lurking like a serpent in the shadows. She couldn't wait for his strike. She had to act.
"Qing Dai," she asked one day, setting aside a bulletin on canal transport, "Before the lake incident, did I have any dealings with the Gu family? Especially that young master?"
Qing Dai frowned, thinking carefully. "You rarely interacted with them, Lady. Even at palace banquets, you were separated by crowds. That lake outing was arranged by familiar ladies, but… it was Rui's third daughter who suggested inviting more guests. Gu Liang's sister happened to be nearby, so they joined."
She paused, lowering her voice. "I heard from the maids… that boat was originally reserved by Rui's household for the third daughter's birthday. She was summoned to the palace last minute, so the boat was reassigned to us."
Ai Mu's heart sank. A boat tied to Rui, an incident involving her and Gu Liang—whose family was close to Rui. And Gu Liang's soul just happened to transmigrate into that body? Too many coincidences. Too perfect.
She felt a chill. She wasn't just facing a dangerous man—she might be caught in a far larger, darker game.
…
Meanwhile, in the quiet study of Gu Liang's residence, the surface calm was deceptive.
"Sir, I… I brought what you asked for," his servant whispered, placing a small paper-wrapped bundle on the desk with trembling hands.
Gu Liang opened it without expression. Inside were smaller packets, each labeled with precise dosages. He ignored the stimulants and focused on one: Soul-Dimming Powder. He sniffed a pinch—faint, nearly scentless.
"No color, no taste? Needle test fails? How long to take effect? How long does it last? Can it be traced?"
The servant swallowed. "The apothecary swore—dissolves instantly, undetectable by silver. Takes effect in half a stick of incense, lasts an hour. Afterward… like drunkenness. Hard to prove."
Gu Liang's gaze silenced him. No answer was needed.
He rewrapped the powder and burned the rest. The flickering flame reflected in his eyes—cold, calculating.
Ai Mu was hiding, investigating, preparing. That knowledge seared his nerves. He couldn't allow it. In the old world, he bound her with death. In this one, he would forge a chain she couldn't break.
The upcoming Lantern Banquet was his crucible.
"The seating plan? Her likely movements?"
"Y-yes. She sits near the Princess. Guards are present, but midway through, she may leave to change or get air. The warming pavilion… is the only path. Guards are fewer then."
Gu Liang listened, already constructing the scene in his mind. How to approach naturally. How to administer the powder. How to make it look like passion, not manipulation. Every detail was rehearsed, refined.
"Good," he said, dismissing the pale servant.
Alone again, he opened the window. Cold wind tousled his hair. He stared at the glowing Ai estate in the distance.
A banquet awaits. And so does our reunion.
He touched the black cat hairpin in his hair—a symbol of obsession, of the past, of her.
Two hands, weaving a silent web. Two minds, preparing for a storm beneath the calm.