Shi Ting tapped the desktop lightly with his fountain pen. “Qin Peipei’s father was a warlord, though he was later defeated. He and her brothers died on the battlefield. Qin Peipei and her sister were forced to flee during the turmoil. Her sister eventually died as well, leaving Qin Peipei to wander with nowhere to go. She was eventually taken in by a manager at the Egede Dance Hall, and from there she made her way as a dancer. Over time she built a name for herself — rising from an ordinary performer to a socialite of the upper classes, moving easily among the officials and wealthy of Shun Cheng. The Huicun that Bai Jin mentioned is the chairman of the Di nation’s chamber of commerce in Xin Guo, a man of considerable power. He fell for Qin Peipei at first sight and has been wanting to take her as a concubine. He is the most important guest the Marshal has invited to the dance, and Huicun specifically requested Qin Peipei as his companion for the evening. If something were to happen to Qin Peipei now, the Marshal would have no way to explain it to Huicun — and the last thing he wants is to offend Huicun.”

Yan Qing rested her chin in her hand, thoughtful. “Do you think the killer knows how important Qin Peipei is, and that’s precisely why she’s been chosen as the target? But if the killer wanted to kill Qin Peipei, she could have simply done so. Why leave clues for us? Does she really have that much confidence that the Military Police Division can’t break her cipher?”

Shi Ting shook his head. “We now know the killer’s next target, but we still know nothing about who the killer is. She remains hidden in the dark, and could strike at any moment.”

“I have a feeling this dance is going to be anything but peaceful.” Yan Qing exhaled softly. “Be careful.”

“I will.” Shi Ting smiled.

He picked up the record. “This record hasn’t circulated through any commercial channels — I’ve already set people to look into it. The killer clearly has a deep familiarity with Di nation music. Even Jiang Zeluo had to listen twice before identifying it.”

“I have one bold conjecture.” Yan Qing said. “Curled and waved hair is extremely fashionable in Shun Cheng right now — women of all ages have adopted it, and hairpins have largely fallen out of use. By contrast, the Di nation women I’ve read about in books tend toward more traditional styles — wearing their hair up in chignons and fastening them with a single pin. What if the killer is from the Di nation?”

“That’s a very valuable conjecture.” Shi Ting tapped his fountain pen thoughtfully. “Even if she isn’t Di herself, she must have deep ties to the Di nation.”

At that moment, the telephone on the desk rang.

Yan Qing set down the record, while Shi Ting picked up the call.

When he put down the receiver, Shi Ting rose. “That was the Marshal.”

“Asking about the case?”

“He said that to ensure the dance proceeds without incident, he wants me to personally protect Qin Peipei. If anything happens to her, he won’t be able to answer to Huicun. He can’t afford to lose Huicun’s goodwill.”

He moved around the desk and came to Yan Qing, bending to draw her into his arms, his voice carrying a reluctance he made no effort to hide. “I may not be able to come home before the dance begins.”

Yan Qing patted his back gently. “Since the killer wants Qin Peipei dead, she’ll certainly be looking for an opening in the coming days. Take care of yourself.”

“I will.” He pressed his face against her neck for a moment, then cupped her face carefully in his hands and gazed down at her, taking in the pale, fair features he loved so well. “If anything comes up that you can’t handle, go to Mother. She may seem cool and distant most of the time, but she’s already accepted you in her heart.”

“I know. Stop worrying about me — the worst I’ll face is a bit of scheming and rivalry. What you’re facing could cost you your life.”

He said nothing. Instead, he lowered his head and settled his lips gently over hers, pressing and lingering until her breathing grew unsteady and the arms she’d wound around his waist tightened of their own accord. Only then did he finally, reluctantly, release her — his fingertip touching her lips once more with a light tap. “Take care of yourself.”

When Yan Qing returned to the Shi Mansion, Second Egg came waddling out to meet her, rear end swinging happily.

Yan Qing couldn’t help wrinkling her nose. “Jing Zhi,” she said with exasperation, “can you please stop letting Second Egg copy Walnut? He’s a tiger — not a dog. What does it mean that he wags his tail at everyone he sees?”

“Miss, this creature learns things so fast, I can’t stop him.” Jing Zhi shook her head. “I’m afraid he’s going to grow up genuinely believing he’s a dog. That would be mortifying.”

Second Egg, entirely oblivious to their complaints, planted both front paws on Yan Qing’s legs and wagged his tail with full enthusiasm.

Once upon a time those paws had only reached her shins. Now they cleared her thighs with ease. His weight had also made a significant leap — his bulk was increasing visibly by the day.

Yan Qing bent down to stroke his coat, though she could no longer lift him. Compared to the tiny creature she had first encountered, he had grown enormously. It wouldn’t be long before he surpassed Walnut in size and grew into a true tiger in every sense.

Come to think of it, he had been more endearing when he was small.

“Miss, shall we eat dinner here tonight, or go to the Second Concubine’s quarters?”

Yan Qing considered. “Let’s go to Mother’s.”

That evening, Yan Qing kept Luo Huaimeng company through dinner. By the time they finished, the lanterns nestled among the garden shrubbery had lit themselves one by one, casting a warm amber glow across the stone path.

“Jing Zhi — do you smell something?” Yan Qing suddenly stopped walking, nostrils flaring slightly.

“I don’t think so.” Jing Zhi halted too.

“Blood.” Yan Qing spent her days around bodies, and the scent was all too familiar to her. Even though it was faint, she had caught it clearly.

“Blood?” Jing Zhi glanced around nervously. “Surely nobody would be killed inside the Shi Mansion?”

Yan Qing gave her a helpless look. The girl had spent too long in her company — her first instinct at the smell of blood was to think of a body.

“Blood doesn’t necessarily mean a body.” Yan Qing’s words were barely out when a sharp, hissing sound cut through the air.

She instantly flung her arm out in front of Jing Zhi. “Don’t move.”

Jing Zhi raised the lantern and shone its light ahead — then went pale as ash, swallowing her scream before it could escape, forcing it down in a hard gulp.

“A snake, Miss — it’s a snake.”

Coiled in the middle of the path was a snake. Sensing their presence, it reared its head high, spreading a wide, fanned hood.

“A cobra,” Yan Qing said. “A venomous one — an exceptionally dangerous one at that.”

“How would a snake get into the Mansion?” Jing Zhi said, and then remembered the blood smell Yan Qing had mentioned. Could the snake have been drawn in by that scent?

“Whatever you do, don’t move,” Yan Qing said in a low, steady voice. “Its eyesight is very poor. If we stay still, it generally won’t attack on its own.”

The cobra could strike faster than a leopard. Turning and running was not a viable option.

Jing Zhi clutched Yan Qing’s arm, trembling all over.

In truth, Yan Qing was also frightened. She could face a body without flinching, but creatures like snakes — reptiles and soft-bodied animals — made her shudder instinctively.

“Miss, how long are we supposed to stand here? My legs have gone soft.” Jing Zhi swallowed hard. “When is this creature going to leave?”

Just then, the snake began to move — advancing toward them, the hiss in its throat growing louder with each undulation, its forked tongue flickering in the moonlight, a vivid, unsettling crimson.

Yan Qing hadn’t anticipated it would come toward them. She glanced quickly at the ground beneath her feet and saw brownish stains on the path’s surface.

Her stomach sank. Their feet were standing over blood traces. The cobra had been following the scent all along.

She had to think fast. Running wasn’t an option — staying put wasn’t either.

“Jing Zhi, listen to me carefully. When I count to three, you turn and run. Don’t run in a straight line — zigzag. And don’t look back. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Miss.” Even Jing Zhi’s voice was shaking.

Yan Qing knew their speed was no match for the cobra’s strike, but to stand still and wait was to have no chance at all.

“One.”

“Two.”

Before she could say three, something dark lunged from the side — hurling itself straight at the cobra.

The cobra recoiled with a sharp hiss, retreating several lengths.

“Roar.”

The shadow let out a cry — still young-sounding, still with an edge of youth not quite grown into — but it was enough to hold the venomous snake at bay.

“Second Egg!” Yan Qing cried out with a surge of relief.

Second Egg planted himself in front of Yan Qing, white teeth bared, a low and continuous growl rising from his throat as he held a ready, aggressive stance.

His frame wasn’t large yet, but he was a true tiger. The power in his bearing was not something that could be faked.

A tiger and a snake faced each other in silence. Neither made the first move.

The cobra seemed to be weighing the strength of its opponent, waiting.

Jing Zhi gripped Yan Qing’s arm without blinking, eyes locked on the standoff unfolding before them.

After an indeterminate span of time — just as cold sweat began sliding down Jing Zhi’s cheek — the cobra abruptly turned and shot into the underbrush at startling speed, vanishing in an instant.

“Second Egg, you’re incredible.” Jing Zhi finally breathed again, looking at him with all the adoration of a first love.

Second Egg turned around, padded happily over to Yan Qing, and wagged his tail as if awaiting praise.

Jing Zhi saw that endlessly wagging tail and had to press her lips together.

Second Egg — just a moment ago you were the fearsome king of the wilderness. Where did your dignity as lord of the forest go?

Yan Qing crouched down and gently stroked the top of his head. “Second Egg, thank you.”

“This creature — all he ever does normally is hang off people, acting soft. And then when it counts, he comes through as a true guardian.” Jing Zhi gave him a grin. “Tonight I’ll give you a piece of beef. No — you can have beef every night this week.”

Second Egg rubbed against Yan Qing’s leg and let out a happy, contented sound.

Yan Qing continued to stroke his fur, but her expression had grown quiet and thoughtful.

She did not believe this cobra had simply wandered here by chance. This was the path she always took when returning from Luo Huaimeng’s courtyard.