Feng Zhiwei stared at that reflection.

Jade-green crown, moon-white robe with dark silver patterns on the bottom, draped in a snow-white light fur. The light fur’s radiance was brilliant and incomparably precious, yet even more brilliant was that person’s countenance—as if all the magnificent beautiful scenery of the mortal world had been concentrated and condensed upon one person’s features, instantly amazing ten thousand miles of rivers and mountains.

Those brows tilted slightly upward, exquisite as carved feathers. Those lips curved beautifully, meticulously depicted by the hand of a celestial being. However, when those eyes beneath dense long lashes quietly turned, only the dark jade-like brilliance of those eyes remained between heaven and earth.

Early winter wind stirred up snow foam, drifting across the white plum blossom grove by the shore. Plum blossoms like shattered snow and shattered snow like plum blossoms swept across the jade-green ice lake, then scattered into his flowing garment hem. This somewhat monotonous, pale winter scenery immediately became picturesque as a painting.

An immortal among mountains, a lofty scholar beneath forest trees, a master artist with brush and ink—difficult to depict such bearing.

That person’s body wrapped in light fur was tall and slender, standing like a jade tree upon the rocks at the shore. From his posture, he was slightly leaning forward, looking at himself in the lake.

Feng Zhiwei immediately sank lower into the water, then raised her head.

She looked into a pair of deep black, ice-cold eyes.

Those eyes were extraordinarily beautiful. When they moved, flowing colors pressed upon others. When they gazed at someone, they were still as a clear abyss, so distinctly black and white with a pure, faint steel-blue tint emanating forth, like a magnificent brocade, rolling closer layer by layer—gorgeous and noble yet thick and ice-cold, submerging people.

Feng Zhiwei clasped her hands before her chest, staring at those eyes that seemed to gaze with amorous affection, soaked through with hazy night colors, writing romantic elegance to its fullest. She thought—would people of the world all be confused by such an amazingly stunning countenance, unable to see the icy coldness frozen for a thousand miles at the bottom of his eyes?

“Excuse me, please move aside.” She raised her head, indicating for that person to move from his position.

The man didn’t move, lowering his head to look at her—Feng Zhiwei standing in shallow water, her long loose hair revealing a pure and elegant face. Her black, fine brows were soaked with water, dark and heavy as feathers. A pair of eyes hazy and misty—when looking at people, it was like they were veiled in a layer of ethereal gauze.

Truly appeared to be a very delicate and harmless woman.

Truly a face… that greatly surprised him.

In the flowing water ripples, Feng Zhiwei bent her body, both hands skillfully protecting her chest. She was not embarrassed or awkward because of this posture, nor was she flustered and confused because her killing had been discovered. She still stood calmly in the water, neither avoiding nor yielding to this man’s gaze that concealed sharpness within its smile.

Before this person’s glass-clear, brilliant eyes, any disguise would be self-inflicted humiliation.

“You plan to come up just like this?” After a long while he spoke, his voice mellow and warm, yet listening carefully one could still detect that touch of indifferent coolness.

Feng Zhiwei looked back. Fifth Madam had already sunk down.

“What if she floats up?” The man focused on that area of water. “At that time, how would you, who are responsible for sweeping this garden area, respond to the Qiu Mansion’s interrogation?”

Feng Zhiwei felt that his tone didn’t sound like he was worried for her, but rather held several parts the flavor of testing. But why should she be tested by a stranger?

“Oh? Interrogation?” Feng Zhiwei smiled, wading straight toward the shore. Water dripping from her body splashed onto his exquisitely embroidered black shoes. The man indeed immediately moved aside.

“Fifth Madam mysteriously lost her footing and fell into the lake while going to meet Your Excellency’s appointment.” Feng Zhiwei reached up to coil her wet hair, touching her face with some regret—the crimson nail polish on Fifth Madam’s nails seemed mixed with “Wu Na flower” which had color-enhancing and fragrance-producing properties. The powder of this thing dissolved in water just happened to wash away the ginger-yellow complexion on her face. All these years she’d constantly faced people with that yellow complexion—this was Mother’s requirement, and she herself found it convenient. Now, great—someone had seen through it.

Sighing helplessly, she turned to smile at him. “The one who needs to explain to the Qiu Mansion seems to be you?”

“My appointment?” The man turned, smiling meaningfully. “But, miss, it seems what I arranged was with you, not that fading beauty.”

Feng Zhiwei stopped, tilting her head to look at him. Her eyes were naturally hazy, her gaze soft. Looking over with this smile, she was as soft and gentle as a flower that would break at a touch.

“Is that so? Then it truly is this servant’s honor… So then, may I ask young master… what is this servant’s surname and given name?”

The smile at the corners of the man’s lips deepened. Suddenly he reached out to embrace her, speaking softly by her ear: “Sooner or later you’ll tell me yourself…”

Feng Zhiwei was caught off guard and fell into his embrace. Struggling once, she didn’t move an inch. Only then did she realize that though this person appeared handsome and refined, with the bearing of a jade figure, his martial skills were absolutely not ordinary. She lowered her eyes to look at the fingers gripping her arm—knuckles slender, finger bones distinct, skin delicate to the point of near-transparency. The contours were beautiful, not like a martial artist’s hands, yet filled with irresistible strength.

He leaned extremely close to her. A faintly cool mint and Chinese rose scent rushed into her nostrils—it was a cold yet pure and elegant fragrance, not obvious yet omnipresent. She frowned, unaccustomed to it, and was about to struggle when she suddenly heard a series of chaotic footsteps approaching from behind him.

Someone spoke sternly: “Where is Yuhua? Summoned to attend at the front courtyard—how is there not even a shadow of her?”

Feng Zhiwei’s heart trembled. She recognized this voice—her uncle, Commander of the Five Armies and Commander of the Flying Shadow Guard, Qiu Shangqi, the current dynasty’s most powerful and influential military officer.

And Yuhua was currently sinking in the pond beneath her feet.

Behind Qiu Shangqi, someone reported something in low tones. The words were half-spoken when Qiu Shangqi interrupted. He said with an “Ah”: “So you’re here…”

That tone was directed toward Feng Zhiwei’s direction. Only the words were half-spoken when they too were interrupted by the light-furred man. “Lord Qiu, I’m walking around at leisure. What, is it inconvenient?”

“I wouldn’t dare.” Qiu Shangqi immediately bowed, his tone frightened.

Listening, Feng Zhiwei felt that though Uncle’s words held fear, they lacked sufficient respect. And this person’s tone was also somewhat improper. This dialogue truly sounded rather strange.

“The mansion’s concubine Yuhua is skilled in song and dance and proficient at the pipa. Originally I was going to assign her to attend you.” Qiu Shangqi laughed with some embarrassment. “Only she’s suddenly taken ill…”

“I’ve already met her.” The light-furred man’s tone was leisurely. Feng Zhiwei raised an eyebrow and lifted her eyes to look at him. Their gazes collided. The man revealed a knowing smile to her.

Indeed had met her—at the bottom of the water.

Their gazes met, answering each other silently with their eyes.

Do you know what I’ll say?

That’s your business.

Afraid?

A life for a life—nothing to complain about.

The woman’s gaze continued smiling, impossible to discern her true emotions. Only the finger pressed against his chest seemed slightly cool… The man suddenly raised an eyebrow, finding it strange that even through these thick winter garments, he could still feel that thread of coldness. Was it an illusion? Or was it that old injury that often chilled to the bone marrow, flaring up again?

The old ailment that had been peaceful for so long was actually recurring at this moment. And the woman opposite, her eyes brimming with rippling waves shrouded in smoke and mist, that feeling so difficult to grasp—it gave rise to a sense of disorientation within him without reason.

What an interesting person…

All these complicated thoughts were but an instant. The next instant he had already withdrawn his gaze, half-turning to meet Qiu Shangqi’s questioning look.

“Oh, I killed her.”

His tone light and casual, like mentioning an ant that had been stepped on.

Qiu Shangqi stared with shocked, widened eyes. The indifferent smile on the opposite man’s pure, elegant, slightly cool countenance made him gasp in a breath of cold air. Immediately recalling the Imperial Capital’s legends about this person—the ruthless, sinister, moody temperament behind that romantic elegance—he couldn’t help but immediately conceal his surprised expression, saying in a harmonious voice: “…Killed is fine, presumably the serving concubine was discourteous and offended you?…”

Once again interrupting his words, the light-furred man carelessly rolled up his sleeve cuffs, his tone as light as this winter day’s wind melting shattered snow.

“Does killing need a reason?”