Footsteps at her ear made her jump.
Wan Ruo wiped at the tears clinging to her lashes and pushed herself upright. “Who’s there? Who’s out there?”
“Instead of useless crying, you’d do better to think about saving yourself,” a voice taunted.
In the thin wash of moonlight she made out the speaker—Red Fox Yun Yi. He stepped from behind the tree and came closer, smiling as if he’d just delivered delightful news. “See? Wasn’t I right? So, are you going to rethink my offer? What I said before still stands.”
“I…I still need to think,” Wan Ruo stammered, then tried to move away.
She knew all too well that if Bai Chen was dangerous, Yun Yi was hardly any kinder.
When she refused to cooperate, Yun Yi’s smile sharpened. He reached out, clamping his fingers around her throat and pinning her against the rough bark. His grin turned predatory as he leaned in toward her mouth.
He intended to take the inner core from her by force—draw out her life-spark.
There was no contest in strength; Wan Ruo was like a lamb frozen at the slaughter. She had no way to fight back.
At that critical moment, a force slammed Yun Yi back, sending him skidding several meters through the underbrush.
“Bai Chen?” Wan Ruo whispered, looking toward the moonlit figure.
He stood there, half-illuminated, a white tail flicking behind him and a pair of furry ears atop his head. In his palm hovered a small, cold-blue flame—the foxfire. He looked down at Yun Yi with pure contempt.
Yun Yi clawed himself back up, spitting blood at the corner of his mouth, then sneered, “What, you mad already?”
“Yun Yi,” Bai Chen said flatly, “no matter what you’ve done in the past, I would have let it go. But you do not lay hands on her.”
Those words set Yun Yi off. He transformed in a rush, a half-fox, half-human visage revealing his tail and ears, preparing to settle the score with Bai Chen.
“Oh? Really? Let’s find out,” Yun Yi snarled and launched himself at Bai Chen.
This time Bai Chen did not hold back. Where Yun Yi had been cocky and reckless, Bai Chen was calm and precise. They clashed beneath the night sky—if anything, Yun Yi did most of the colliding. He found no opening to reach Bai Chen; he only took blows.
After only a few exchanges, Bai Chen kicked him hard, sending him sprawling to the ground. Yun Yi lay there, blood slick at his lips.
Yun Jiu rushed up, horror draining him pale when he saw his brother battered on the earth. He crouched and helped him to his feet. “Brother, are you alright? What happened? Why did you two fight?”
Yun Jiu had always known that Bai Chen rarely raised a hand, no matter how reckless Yun Yi had been. Seeing him beaten half to death shook something inside the younger brother.
Bai Chen’s voice was cool as he answered, “You know it wasn’t my intention. But you shouldn’t have done that.”
Yun Yi spat and laughed bitterly. “Oh, spare me your sanctimonious act. I can’t stand it when you act all high and mighty like you’re better than everyone.”
“Sanctimonious?” Bai Chen frowned—so deep was the misunderstanding.
“If that’s what you think, no matter what I do, you won’t believe me. Do as you please,” Bai Chen said. “But know this: she is my bottom line. One more step and it won’t be so easy next time.”
Wan Ruo stood stunned at the edge of the scene. She hadn’t even caught her breath when Bai Chen scooped her up in his arms and left without another word.
Yun Jiu watched Bai Chen’s retreating figure with a heavy, conflicted look. Helping Yun Yi, he asked with tearful concern and reproach, “What did you do? Does it hurt?”
Although injured and bleeding, a strange relief softened Yun Yi’s face; he even managed a small smile. Perhaps for the first time he felt some of the weight lift—the need to prove himself before Bai Chen, the stubborn pride that had driven him too far.
Yun Jiu helped his brother away to tend his wounds.
Bai Chen carried Wan Ruo back to her lodgings and laid her on the bed. She pretended to be asleep—she wasn’t ready to face him and couldn’t yet manage a conversation.
He must have known she was feigning; he covered her with a blanket without calling her out. Perhaps that was the least awkward path.
Standing by the bed, his hand trembled slightly as he wrapped his palm around her cold fingers. He spoke softly, voice warm and firm both. “I know you’re not ready. I’ll give you time. Rest.”
When Bai Chen left, Wan Ruo waited until she was sure he was gone before opening her eyes. She let out a quiet breath.
The next morning a distant clamor dragged her awake.
“Miss Wan Ruo, someone’s here to see you! Miss Wan Ruo, are you up?”
“Coming—hold on!” Wan Ruo called back, scrambling for her robe only to remember her clothes had been left in Bai Chen’s room the night before. She had nothing decent to put on.
Reluctantly she slipped into one of Bai Chen’s shirts and opened the door.
Several maids stood in the entry, each carrying a tray piled with garments—delicate fabrics, silks and embroidered hems. Wan Ruo blinked in surprise. “What is all this?”
“One of our masters said you were to be ready,” a servant explained. “Miss Wan Ruo, Prince Pingnan has come to escort you to the Grand Dowager’s banquet. Master Bai ordered these clothes prepared for you. Please dress quickly—the prince is waiting.”
It turned out that when Bai Chen had noticed Wan Ruo’s shabby, masculine clothes by the hearth the night before, he’d had measurements taken and new garments ordered overnight. The thoughtfulness made something warm and grateful bloom in her chest.
“And Master Bai?” she asked. “Did the prince invite him too?”
“Of course,” the servant answered, “but Master Bai had other matters and could not attend, so he sent his apologies.”
Couldn’t attend—or perhaps he was avoiding an awkward encounter. Either way, Wan Ruo felt a small, hidden relief.
“Alright, you may wait outside. I’ll be out soon,” she told the maids.
In the private chamber across the way, Si Hongxi had been pacing since dawn. He’d been told Bai Chen would not be coming and inwardly rejoiced. He felt almost giddy as he waited, shifting from foot to foot like a person at a wedding anticipation.
When Wan Ruo emerged, transformed and radiantly dressed, Si Hongxi’s face lit up. To him she was perfect—his every compliment sounding like an ardent vow.
“Miss Ruo Ruo,” he said, a touch breathless, “you look extraordinary today. I am utterly captivated.”