Huimura was visibly startled. The bodyguard beside him looked at Shi Ting with clear displeasure. “Director Shi, what is the meaning of this? Mr. Huimura needs to take his medicine.”

The Marshal, seeing this, quickly said: “He is simply performing a routine check to ensure Mr. Huimura’s safety.”

After his initial surprise, Huimura gave a small laugh. “Director Shi, surely you don’t suspect there’s something wrong with my medicine? I take this every day—I carry it with me at all times. There can’t be anything wrong with it.”

“Is Mr. Huimura certain? This is the medicine you regularly take?”

Huimura paused, then nodded with confidence. “This is what I always take. Is Director Shi perhaps being overly cautious?”

Shi Ting took the bottle from him, held it up to his nose, and inhaled. “Mr. Huimura, you cannot take this medicine.”

Up in the second-floor changing room, the bleeding from Qin Peipei’s arm had stopped. Yan Qing had wrapped it in a few simple turns of gauze.

A short while later, an officer rushed in the door and said to Bai Jin: “Team Leader Bai, something’s happened. Mr. Huimura has suddenly collapsed—his condition is critical.”

“What?” Bai Jin jumped to his feet. “How is this possible?”

Qin Peipei’s expression flickered with urgency upon hearing this. “Is Mr. Huimura poisoned?”

Bai Jin looked at her. “How does Miss Qin know Mr. Huimura was poisoned?”

“I—I was only guessing.” Qin Peipei paused for a moment and quickly explained: “Security here is so strict—it’s not as though Mr. Huimura could have been physically attacked, could he?”

“But if security is this strict, poisoning would hardly be possible either, would it?”

“Team Leader Bai, what are you implying?” Qin Peipei was somewhat indignant. “I was only making a casual guess. From the tone of your voice, it sounds as though you’re actually suspecting me. Don’t forget—from the moment I left Mr. Huimura, you’ve been at my side the entire time.”

Bai Jin smiled. “Miss Qin need not be so upset. We in the military police division simply like to get to the bottom of things—we ask questions as soon as we think of them. I have no intention of suspecting you, Miss Qin. After all, I am precisely your alibi.”

Qin Peipei gave a huff. “As long as you understand that.”

At that moment, another officer shoved the door open, his expression urgent. “Team Leader Bai, something’s wrong.”

“Now what?” Bai Jin had just been about to light a cigarette, and the sudden interruption made him drop it right to the floor.

“Mr. Huimura is dead!”

Bai Jin and Qin Peipei both froze.

Bai Jin immediately moved toward the door. “Where?”

“Downstairs. Director Shi has already ordered the area sealed off. Not a single person in this dance hall is to leave.”

“Come on, let’s all go have a look.” Bai Jin gave no further thought to Qin Peipei and left the dressing room at a brisk pace with the messenger.

Once the dressing room had fallen quiet, Qin Peipei walked to the window, opened it, and gave a sharp whistle. Within moments, a grey-and-white eagle came soaring in. Its talons gripped powerfully and landed steadily on her arm.

She secured a small rolled-up note to the eagle’s leg, then with a gentle raise of her arm, sent it back out into the air. It disappeared swiftly into the darkness.

A secretive, knowing smile passed across Qin Peipei’s lips—but it vanished quickly, her expression settling back into calm. She glanced at her arm, then pushed open the door and walked out.

The officer outside saw her emerge and immediately said: “Miss Qin, Team Leader Bai gave instructions—you are not to leave this room.”

“Mr. Huimura has been involved in an incident. I must go down.” Qin Peipei ignored the junior officer’s attempts to stop her and walked briskly toward the stairs.

The officer had no choice but to follow closely behind her.

When Qin Peipei reached the first floor, she had expected chaos. To her surprise, the scene was nothing like what she had imagined—the Marshal and the others sat composed in their chairs, as though nothing of any consequence had occurred.

She could not help but curve her lips ever so slightly. It appeared the Marshal intended to conceal Huimura’s death entirely—because once the news got out, it would inevitably cause a massive uproar.

Too bad—it was already too late.

Qin Peipei walked over, and sure enough, Huimura was nowhere to be seen.

“Marshal, where is Mr. Huimura?” she asked. “Just now I heard that he…”

“Mr. Huimura stepped out to use the restroom.” The Marshal gave her a nod, then glanced at her bandaged wrist. “What happened to your hand?”

“It’s nothing. Someone tried to harm me in the room—they were frightened off by the military police division.” Qin Peipei sat down and cast an inconspicuous look around her. The dance floor still played graceful music as several couples glided across it. Glasses clinked, shadows of hair ornaments and the rustle of fine clothing filled the air—all gaiety and celebration.

Qin Peipei waited patiently for half an hour. Still Huimura had not returned. She suppressed the cold amusement rising within her and asked once more with an air of concern: “Marshal, surely Mr. Huimura is all right?”

“Shi Ting is with him. He’ll be fine.” The Marshal replied casually.

“That’s a relief.”

Qin Peipei glanced at the time. She thought the message must have already been delivered by now—this surface of perfect peace would soon be shattered.

She had only to sit and wait for the show to begin.

Ten minutes later, the great doors of the dance hall were suddenly pushed open. Qin Peipei assumed this was the moment she had been waiting for—but instead she saw a familiar face.

Huimura walked in at the front, his complexion ruddy, laughing and chatting without the slightest sign of illness—let alone of lying dead on the floor.

“How is this possible?” Qin Peipei let out an involuntary murmur.

Her voice was quiet, but the Marshal caught it nonetheless. “What did you say?” he asked curiously.

“Nothing—nothing. I was only thinking that Mr. Huimura was gone quite a long time just to freshen up.” As she said this, her eyes did not leave Huimura for a moment, her gaze filled with disbelief.

Huimura was not dead. Then why had that reporting officer said he had collapsed and was critically injured—and then that he had died suddenly?

Could it be—

Before Qin Peipei could finish the thought, a cold sweat broke out along her spine. When her eyes met Shi Ting’s gaze, the sweat came even faster.

“Marshal, my wound is a little painful. I’ll go rest for a bit.” Sensing something strange in the atmosphere around her, Qin Peipei rose and made to leave.

“Miss Qin, please stay.” It was Shi Ting who spoke.

Qin Peipei turned to find Shi Ting blocking her path. His tall, imposing frame was like a solid wall without a single gap. She immediately felt a wave of low, oppressive pressure bearing down on her, making it almost impossible to breathe.

“Is there something you need, Director Shi?” Qin Peipei asked with composure.

“How is Miss Qin’s injury?”

“I’m fine.” Qin Peipei said. “It’s just a little painful. I’d like to go back and rest.”

“Doesn’t Miss Qin want to offer an explanation?” Shi Ting’s gaze was sharp and penetrating, filled with scrutiny.

Qin Peipei gave a cold laugh. “Director Shi, I have no idea what you’re talking about. What do I need to explain?”

“There is quite a lot Miss Qin needs to explain—such as, for instance, your background.”

At that moment, the music in the dance hall ceased abruptly. And in an instant, as though by some invisible force, every gaze in the room turned toward Qin Peipei. Shi Ting’s voice had not been loud—it was impossible that so many people could have heard. Yet the noise around them simply stopped, and the world fell into complete silence.

The unease in Qin Peipei’s heart grew sharper still. She moved backward almost instinctively.

“Mr. Huimura.” Qin Peipei turned toward Huimura, forcing a smile. “I’ve been waiting for you a long while.”

She told herself that at this moment, her only hope lay with Huimura. He was fond of her. As long as he spoke up, Shi Ting would not continue to press her.

But as she drew near, Huimura took a step back. The bodyguard at his side immediately moved to shield him, fixing her with a cold and forbidding stare.

“What do you mean by this?” Qin Peipei grew anxious.

The bodyguard said: “I’d like to ask Miss Qin the very same thing.”

“I only wanted to say a few words to Mr. Huimura. Just now the military police division sent a false report claiming Mr. Huimura was in danger.”

“So now that Mr. Huimura is alive and well, is Miss Qin not quite so pleased?” the bodyguard said.

“Why would I be displeased? I only want Mr. Huimura to be safe and sound.”

“Then how does Miss Qin explain this?” Bai Jin walked over carrying something in his hand. Several of the people nearby caught a glimpse of it and immediately recoiled in alarm—it was an eagle.

“If we hadn’t fed Miss Qin false information, why would she have sent word outside reporting that Mr. Huimura was dead?”

Bai Jin tossed the eagle at Qin Peipei’s feet. It was not yet dead, struggling weakly on the floor. Its wings had been shot through—a mess of blood and torn flesh.

“This is what I found on the eagle’s leg.” Bai Jin held up a small slip of paper for everyone to see. Written on it were the words: *Huimura is dead. Proceed with the plan.*

Qin Peipei’s face went ashen at the sight of the eagle. She involuntarily took two steps back.

“I believe Miss Qin intended to send word outside reporting Mr. Huimura’s death, so that the Dik Kingdom Commerce Association could be notified. Once the Association learned that Mr. Huimura met with disaster at the Marshal’s ball, they would certainly come demanding an accounting. To offend the Association would mean losing Dik Kingdom support. With every warlord presently vying to court the Dik Kingdom, this would effectively disqualify the Marshal from the game entirely. That was Miss Qin’s calculation, wasn’t it?” Bai Jin smiled at her. “We have already compared the handwriting on the note—it is a match for Miss Qin’s. The evidence is overwhelming. Does Miss Qin have anything further to deny?”

Qin Peipei stared at Bai Jin in apparent astonishment, then shifted her gaze to Shi Ting. If by this point she still couldn’t see that this was a trap the military police division had crafted specifically for her, she truly deserved to be called a fool.

“Xingzhi, there’s no need to keep up the riddles—tell us what this is all about.” The Marshal had been playing along with the act, but in truth he had not yet grasped the full picture.

Qin Peipei was nothing but a dance girl. How had she become entangled with Huimura? Moreover, the military police division’s implication was that Qin Peipei had deliberately stirred up trouble with the aim of causing the Marshal’s administration to fall out with the Dik Kingdom’s Commerce Association.

So who was Qin Peipei working for? What was her allegiance? And how had she put all of this together?

—