Qin Manman nearly screamed; her heart slammed against her ribs as if it would leap free. A hand clamped over her mouth, and a familiar voice whispered in her ear, soft and urgent: “It’s me. Shh.”
She drew in a shaky breath and turned. It was Wei Qingshan.
“What are you doing here? You scared me to death!” Qin Manman hissed, managing to sound reproachful despite her racing pulse.
Wei Qingshan peered her up and down—Manman’s dark cloak and simple travel clothes gave away her intent—and folded her arms. “I should be asking you that. Where do you think you’re going?”
Wei Qingshan’s expression was plain: the chancellor’s adopted daughter had no ties of blood; if the household’s protector was falling, she would bolt. And if Manman ran and was discovered, it would bring trouble on them all. She couldn’t allow that.
“I’m going to find help—to save my foster father. He’s your father. This is the only thing left to try,” Manman said, brow knitted with urgency.
Wei Qingshan snorted. “Right. And who exactly do you plan to find, a noble to put a word in with the emperor? I doubt it. I’m not worried—my grandfather’s a general, influential at court. He will plead for my family. You’re a country girl with no rank—don’t tell me you think you have channels to pull him out of this. Are you trying to run for your life?”
“You—” Qin Manman felt fury and humiliation wash through her. “If I was running I’d at least have something to leave with. I didn’t take anything worth selling. I’m telling the truth. Trust me—just act like you didn’t see me. I’m coming back.”
A pair of patrolling soldiers passed by, and both girls froze, pressing themselves against the shadowed wall until the footsteps faded. Wei Qingshan gave in with a reluctant flick of her chin and let Manman slip away.
Qin Manman used the night and the patrols to slip out of the chancellor’s estate and headed straight for Shan’an Lane. The gate to Wan Ruo’s house was bolted. She pounded on it until her knuckles stung.
Inside the courtyard, Wan Ruo—who had been dozing—heard the knocking and blinked awake. “Maru, did you hear that?” she asked.
Maru, curled on the mat, perked up. “No. What sound?”
“Knocking,” Wan Ruo said, listening. And then she heard it again. She rose and went to the hall door.
The door opened just as Qin Manman, having given up on finding another way in, braced herself to leave. Wan Ruo stood in the doorway, surprised to see her.
“Manman? What are you doing here?” Wan Ruo asked.
“Get inside,” Manman urged, pushing her through without hesitation. She kept her voice low. “You shouldn’t be here, you should be at the chancellor’s. But listen—” She had to be quick. “I came to ask for your help.”
Wan Ruo’s face went blank. “My help? I’m a commoner. What can I possibly do? I can’t help you.” Before Manman could finish, she’d already refused.
Manman had expected resistance. She had one last card. “Don’t you want to know who your real father is?” she asked.
At that, Wan Ruo stopped. Her eyes narrowed, incredulous. “What are you talking about? You’re lying.”
“No,” Manman said. “My parents told me. Your biological father is Chancellor Wei Zhong.”
The name landed like a stone. Wan Ruo stared at her as if stunned into silence. “You’re saying the chancellor is my father?”
“Yes.”
“No. Impossible. You’re making this up,” Wan Ruo said bitterly. Still, the notion rattled her.
“It’s true. My parents swore by it—they wouldn’t be mistaken. That’s why I came here. You have to do something—save him.”
The silence that fell between them was heavy. Wan Ruo’s features hardened; disbelief curdled into anger. “Even if that were true, I can’t help you. Thanks for telling me the truth, but you’ve come to the wrong person.”
“You’d let him die?” Manman’s voice trembled, half-pleading, half-accusatory.
Wan Ruo laughed, sharp and cold. “Let him die? Do you think I’m that naïve? You actually expect me to fix what he broke? Do you know where he was when my mother bled to death giving birth to me? He was nowhere. Did he ever shoulder a husband’s duty? No. I survived because my grandmother raised me through hardship. He never acted like a father. Now he’s in danger and you come to me with a guilt trip—who gave you the right?”
The words struck like blows. Manman’s hope—fragile and desperate—crumbled.
She turned to go.
“Are you leaving?” Wan Ruo snapped, anger still hot in her voice.
Without warning, Manman spun back. Her hands flew up, and one closed around Wan Ruo’s throat with a force that snapped the air from the girl’s lungs. Wan Ruo clawed at the attacker’s arms, her face flushing crimson as panic flared.
“Let go of me!” she choked.
Maru sprang forward with a fierce bark, teeth bared. The small animal sank its teeth into Manman’s arm and bit as hard as it could. But Manman didn’t even flinch. With a single, brutal motion, she seized Maru and hurled the little creature across the room.
“Aaah—she—she can see me! Damn it!” Maru shrieked as it hit the floor, pain and disbelief ringing in its voice.
Maru tried to recover and lunged again. “Let go of Lady Wan Ruo!” it cried, ignoring its own wounds.
But the attack held. Whatever had taken hold of Qin Manman made her unnaturally strong and unnaturally cold. Wan Ruo’s struggles grew weaker; her vision dimmed at the edges. Panic stampeded through the room.
As Wan Ruo’s knees began to buckle, the air seemed to thicken. She was slipping—breathless, teetering on the edge—and in that instant, the night pressed close, waiting to see whether fate would tilt.