“Does killing need a reason?”

“Need a reason?”

“Need one?”

“Doesn’t need one?”

Feng Zhiwei wrapped in half-dried clothes, dragging her broom, walked trembling and shivering along the snow-covered road in the early morning, constantly muttering this incomparably domineering response.

That fellow who looked as pure and elegant as green bamboo in snow—when he spoke, it was actually so speechless-inducing. Feng Zhiwei had always considered her composure quite good, yet hearing that statement at the time, she couldn’t help but tremble.

She’d originally thought that even if Uncle didn’t fly into a rage, he would surely be displeased. Who would have expected Uncle to actually laugh dryly twice, seemingly already very accustomed to this person’s manner of speaking? In between, he’d tried several times to crane his neck to see her clearly as she was being blocked from view, but for some unknown reason, he never approached closely.

After the two exchanged a few cold pleasantries, Uncle was dismissed. After Uncle left, that man also suddenly released her and departed. Before leaving, he looked at her once with deep meaning, forcibly raising goosebumps all over her body.

Feng Zhiwei hugged her arms, sighing helplessly. Such terrible luck… Enduring humiliation and swallowing anger for so many years, finally catching an opportunity to kill someone for the first time, she was actually caught red-handed. Truly an inauspicious year.

Although in the end that person hadn’t made things difficult for her and had even exonerated her from guilt, Feng Zhiwei didn’t dare feel the slightest bit fortunate because of it.

Because at that first instant of meeting in the water, she had clearly seen in those bright eyes reflected in the jade-green water… killing intent.

She had therefore frozen in the ice lake, not daring to move even a single hair.

“The feeling of being fish on someone else’s chopping board is truly awful…” Feng Zhiwei sighed, loosely swinging the broom in her hands forward in a slash. The broom swung powerlessly, only stirring up a small cloud of snow mist. Feng Zhiwei irritably withdrew her broom, staring blankly while thinking about when she too could be this arrogant once.

If she could, then never again would she kneel before someone’s door in the depths of winter drinking foot-washing water.

If she could, then never again would those blind bastards corner her in empty rooms.

If she could, then never again would she live dependent on others, watching Mother endure humiliation and swallow anger to protect her and her siblings while she remained powerless.

Dream on. Feng Zhiwei smiled self-mockingly, dragging her broom forward.

Someone who wouldn’t live past twenty—why think so much?

Her figure unhurriedly turned around the corner of a flower wall, yet she didn’t discover that behind the flower wall, someone had been quietly watching her all along.

Witnessing all the melancholy and helplessness in her expression.

That corner of the flower wall held a cluster of evergreen ivy vines. When wind passed, the vines only made the sound of leaves swaying, giving no sense whatsoever of a person’s presence. Only between the deep emerald leaf blades did it faintly reveal slightly slanting brows, like carved feathers, showing through with the blue-green color of distant mountains.

A long time later.

“Ning Cheng.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me…” The man raised the collar of his light fur. Brilliant radiance half-concealed his captivating countenance. In his thin, glass-like eyes, the smile was coldly severe. “Should I kill her or not? She ruined my affairs. Additionally, I always feel… somewhat dangerous.”

“Master.” The ordinary-looking gray-clothed man to his left side looked carefully at the departing woman’s back, counting on his fingers, then spoke solemnly: “Half a quarter-hour.”

Half a quarter-hour meant—within half a quarter-hour, complete the entire set from killing to destroying the corpse to eliminating all traces.

Fingers tapping his chin, the light-furred man looked at this subordinate of his with extraordinary intuition with a smile that was not quite a smile: “Your speed has slowed recently.”

“This woman is somewhat different.” Ning Cheng remained utterly serious. “She gives me a familiar feeling—somewhat dark, somewhat sinister, somewhat cold, somewhat not a good thing.” He tilted his head to think, pondering with slight confusion. “Like…”

The man raised an eyebrow. Understanding amusement rose in his gaze. Somewhat dark, somewhat sinister, somewhat cold, somewhat… not a good thing.

As expected, he saw that fellow’s expression show sudden enlightenment, happily clapping his hands: “Like Master!”

Clenching his fist to cover his lips, coughing lightly, the man looked fixedly at his beaming subordinate, smiling: “Is that so?”

Suddenly enlightened, vigorously nodding: “Yes!”

The other gray-clothed man who had been standing on the right without speaking—cold sweat dripping—dragged this disaster away in one motion…

The man watched with great interest as his two death-loyal subordinates fled away, turning to look in the direction where Feng Zhiwei had disappeared. Thinking of that woman’s countenance that had surprised him, his eyes flickered. After a long while, he laughed loudly.

“…Like me?”

With attendants serving him, he lazily donned a flying-feather densely-woven black dragon-patterned cloak. He looked around once more with interest, chuckling softly as he departed with hands clasped behind his back.

“Since it’s so, I’ll watch.” That laughter was not loud, yet it shook the surrounding trees until their leaves fell rustling down. “Watch whether she can, like me, survive in this Imperial Capital where wind and rain are about to come amid treacherous waves and clouds. Watch whether she can…”

His tone paused. Killing intent slightly arose. The highest white plum blossom on the plum branch suddenly shattered into powder.

“…Live past three months.”