The night in the Capital was thick as ink, the damp air heavy with the pungent, fishy scent peculiar to the plum rain season. Shen Mingyue, wrapped in a dark cloak, wove through the narrow lanes. The dark patterned tassels hanging from the edge of her lowered veil brushed lightly against her cold cheeks with every step. The Jade Pendant against her heart felt scalding—it was something her mother had pressed into her hands on her deathbed, but at this moment, it felt like an ominous portent, casting a ghostly gleam in the dark.
Gu Jinghong followed close behind. Over his worn, short tunic, he wore a cloak washed to a faded white, the frayed fabric revealing fine chainmail beneath. The copper fitting of the dagger at his waist had long since been worn smooth, indistinguishable from the belongings of any common drunkard. Only his eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, tightened whenever he passed through shadows, betraying his true identity.
"The guards at this black market are thirty percent thicker than usual," Gu Jinghong whispered suddenly, leaning close to her ear. His warm breath brushed her flushed earlobe, carrying a faint tang of blood—residue from dealing with an assassin earlier that morning. Shen Mingyue glanced calmly at the burly men standing with arms crossed at the alley entrance; their waistlines were bulky, the outlines of knife hilts vaguely visible beneath their leather gear. "It seems the Crown Prince’s men are watching this place, too." Her voice was soft as a mosquito…
Chapter 32