"We're even." She threw the medicine on the bed and pushed open the door without looking back.

It was noon when Xiao Xun returned to the villa.

On the couch lay a neatly folded, blood-stained handkerchief, the cloud pattern at the corner of which had been cracked with charcoal ash. He stroked the copper key that Xin Jiuwei had dropped, and suddenly felt a tiny bump on the handle—upon looking at it in the sunlight, he saw the two small characters "Yaotai".

"I see..."

The bamboo forest outside the window rustled, like the embers of the great fire twenty years ago. He remembered Xin Jiuwei's unconscious cry of "Mother" last night in the heat of passion, her strikingly different features from Xin Xiyao's, and the late Crown Princess's beloved...

"Report—!" The martial monk rushed in, "Qi Huaiyu's body is missing!"

Xiao Xun gripped the key tightly, the gilded sachet at his waist making a soft tinkling sound. He knew that this game had only just begun.

When Xin Jiuwei returned to her boudoir, her fingertips were still trembling slightly.

She locked the door and took out a sandalwood box that had been sealed away for many years from the bottom of her dressing case. The box was carved with intricate lotus scroll patterns, and a thin layer of dust had accumulated around the keyhole—this was an item her mother had never allowed her to touch.

The moment the copper key was inserted into the lock, the mechanism made a soft "click." Inside the box lay a yellowed letter and half a broken jade pendant. The pendant was engraved with half a flying dragon, with a speck of cinnabar embedded in the dragon's eye, which was as dazzling as blood in the candlelight.

The letter was written in my mother's beautiful handwriting:

"Wei'er, if you see this, it means the past of Yaotai can no longer be concealed. You and Xiyao are not related by blood; she is the last surviving daughter of the former Crown Prince. The great fire of that year..."

The latter half of the letter was burned black, with only the two characters "Yaotai" at the end of the signature still faintly discernible.

Xin Jiuwei clutched the jade pendant tightly, memories of her past life flooding back—on the day the Xin family was destroyed, the soldiers took only her eldest sister with them, and Qi Huaiyu had once said meaningfully, "Do you really think Xin Xiyao is your sister?"

A soft "tap" sound suddenly came from outside the window.