The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

The night at Lanting Villa is like a cup of weak, cold tea.

As Bei Chenji walked along the bluestone path toward Yun Boyan's residence, Zhuyouzhai, the copper bells on the eaves were making a few scattered, crisp sounds in the evening breeze.

The moonlight sparsely filtered through the bamboo leaves, casting fragmented spots of light on the hem of his crimson robe.

He walked with composure, but a subtle ripple stirred within his heart.

However, when they knocked lightly on the bamboo door, no one answered.

I pushed open the door and entered; the room was empty.

The sandalwood incense had cooled, and the string of prayer beads on the table was nowhere to be found. Only an unfinished copy of the Heart Sutra lay open under the lamp, the ink half-dry.

The last character was only half written, with a slight hesitation at the point where the brush was suspended.

"The Holy Son left half an hour ago."

The attendant on duty bowed his head and reported, his voice sounding exceptionally clear in the empty room.

Bei Chenji stood at the threshold, gazing at the tattered scroll of scripture, his eyes deepening.

Yun Boyan has been living in seclusion for a long time and rarely leaves his hermitage on his own initiative. Why is he suddenly leaving now? Who has disturbed him?

He was pondering when he heard hurried footsteps behind him.

"Master."

Qian Su's voice was very low, but it carried an undeniable tension.

He strode forward, stopping three steps away from Bei Chenji, kneeling on one knee, and as he lowered his head, fine beads of cold sweat appeared on the back of his neck.

"explain."

Bei Chenji did not turn around; his gaze remained fixed on the tattered scripture, and his tone was as indifferent as the thin mist drifting past the window.

Qian Su's Adam's apple bobbed, his voice dry and hoarse.

"That Yanxue Residence... was listed by Princess Jing in the Seventh Pavilion and will be auctioned off tonight at midnight."

The air suddenly froze.

Just then, a gust of wind struck the copper bell under the eaves, making it ring out with a "ding-a-ling".

Bei Chenji slowly turned around.

The moonlight slanted across half of his face, casting shadows on his brow bone that obscured the depth and unfathomable quality of his eyes.

Those eyes, which had always been as calm as an ancient pool, now seemed to have ice cracking silently, and deep within the cracks, a dark fire was faintly burning.

"besides……"

Qian Su's voice was even lower, almost inaudible.

He presented a thin roll of parchment with both hands, his fingertips trembling almost imperceptibly.

"This morning, a batch of clothing... leaked from the film market. The embroidery patterns, sizes, and even the incense... all match what the master uses daily. According to the investigation, the source is..."

He paused, almost holding his breath:

"It was Princess Mirror... who sold it privately."

A night breeze swept through the hall, lifting a corner of the scriptures on the table. The paper rustled softly, like a hasty sigh.

Hua Rongshi, who was leaning against a pillar and playing with a jade buckle, suddenly stopped upon hearing this.

He slowly straightened up, his peach blossom eyes widened, and the corners of his lips began to curl upwards uncontrollably.

"Oh……"

A very soft laugh escaped from his throat, and he quickly covered his lips with his folding fan, but his shoulders couldn't help but twitch slightly.

"It seems that the house that my cousin has carefully prepared for Shen Yan," his voice was filled with a sweet, gloating tone, "is not something Little Snowflake would be interested in, and she's even trying to sell it for money."

Bei Chenji ignored him.

He reached out and took the parchment that Qian Su had presented.

When unfolded, the fingertips moved so smoothly that there was not a single tremor.

The paper contained a list of goods circulating in the film market, the ink characters clear, with one line specially circled by cinnabar:

[Twelve sets of private sleeping robes belonging to the Prince of Beichen, embroidered with gold and clouds, made of brocade reminiscent of early snow, and scented with pine resin. Sold as a whole box; highest bidder wins.]

Every word felt like a red-hot needle piercing my eyes.

"Tang, Xi, Xue"

He whispered the name.

The three words, uttered between the lips, were more chilling than any rage.

It was an extreme coldness, as if even the sound was frozen into sharp edges.

Hua Rongshi finally couldn't help but burst out laughing.

He laughed and shook his head, tapping his folding fan lightly in his palm:

"I initially thought she stole your clothes because she had some kind of weird, perverted fetish..."

He laughed until tears welled up in his eyes.

"So, after all this time, our Little Snowflake is just a simple, unpretentious money-grubber!"

He laughed so hard he could barely stand up straight.

"She could have just robbed you, but she didn't! She chose to steal your underwear and sell it! This method... this method is refreshingly unconventional!"

"Shut up."

Bei Chenji finally spoke, and the temperature under the corridor plummeted.

He raised his eyes, his gaze like a blade of ice, and lightly swept over Hua Rong's face, which was flushed with laughter.

"Laugh again," he said calmly, "and on the night of the full moon this month, I will tie up Tang Xixue and throw her directly into your room."

Hua Rongshi's laughter abruptly stopped.

He blinked, his long eyelashes casting a fan-shaped shadow beneath his eyes.

After a two-second silence, the corners of his lips curled up again, but this time the smile carried a hint of ambiguous and inscrutable interest:

"Cousin's words..." he drawled, a playful glint in his peach blossom eyes, "are you punishing me, or...rewarding me?"

Bei Chenji stopped looking at him.

He casually tossed the parchment to the ground, and the paper fluttered down like a withered leaf.

"What about the clothes?" he asked Qian Su.

"I've already ordered my men to retrieve it at a high price immediately," Qian Su said hastily. "The entire box is unopened, and the seals are intact. However..."

"With so many people and eyes at the film market, it's probably impossible to keep the news a secret."

"Burn it."

Two words: resolute and decisive.

Without the slightest hesitation, it was as if what was being burned was not a priceless imperial brocade, but a pile of filthy dregs.

"Yes." Qian Su lowered her head. "Should we send someone to retrieve Yanxue Residence?"

This question was asked very cautiously.

Everyone knows how much face the Prince of Beichen has lost to Tang Xixue today.

The house that was just given to her was auctioned off casually. If she were to spend a lot of money to buy it back, it would be a huge joke if word got out.

Bei Chenji remained silent.

Moonlight streamed onto his tightly pursed lips, making his cold and hard expression even more pronounced.

After a long silence, he slowly uttered a single word:

"shoot."

His voice was devoid of emotion, only his clenched fist in his sleeve revealed his knuckles turning bluish-white.

Hua Rongshi desperately tried to suppress her laughter, pressing her folding fan tightly against her lips, her shoulders trembling like leaves in the autumn wind.

He could almost see how the Dark Realm of the Nine Provinces would be in an uproar, with the news of "the tyrant's personal clothing being sold" spreading throughout the land.

"Walk."

Bei Chenji turned around with a flick of his sleeve, his crimson cloak fluttering in the night.

"To the Seventh Pavilion." His steps didn't falter, his voice carried on the wind, sharp as a icy spark, "I want to see it with my own eyes—"

"Those things, burn them to ashes."

The tone was chilling, not like someone talking about burning clothes.

It's as if they're going to grind some audacious little bastard to dust as well.

Hua Rongshi folded her folding fan and quickly followed.

He gazed at his cousin's tall, yet subtly menacing back, and the smile on his lips deepened.

This scene is getting more and more interesting.

The lights of the Seventh Pavilion flickered at the end of the long street ahead.

"Why are you using a fan in this freezing weather? Are you crazy?"

"Cousin, you're so out of touch! That night, Number Nine was so cool, wielding that fan and dominating the battlefield! Now, the most popular item sold at Seven Generations Pavilion is that same fan."

"..."