Xu Zhuohua thought for a long time. Her dowry was prepared by the First Madam, so it was impossible for her to have such valuable jewelry. "I don't know, but it's probably not. It might be a betrothal gift from Cheng Muyun."

Xu Zhuohua didn't know what the betrothal gifts Cheng Muyun gave were, but everything in this room belonged to her and she could do with it as she pleased. If the necklace had any special meaning, Cheng Muyun would definitely tell her.

However, as far as I can remember, Cheng Muyun didn't seem to care much about these women's things.

"Just accept it, it suits you perfectly."

Hu Moli turned halfway around in front of the dressing mirror, the emerald around her neck shimmering with light as she moved, perfectly complementing the simple white cheongsam she was wearing and adding a touch of liveliness to it.

She raised her hand to touch the gemstone, her delight evident in her eyes. Just as she was about to say something polite, a burst of noisy voices suddenly came from outside the window, mixed with sporadic shouts and the crisp sounds of objects colliding.

The two exchanged a glance, then stood up and walked towards the window.

Xu Zhuohua suddenly felt tense, and her throat tightened.

Looking down from the wooden window of the second-floor balcony, I saw that a large number of people had gathered in the open space in front of the mansion, a dark mass swaying in the twilight.

Even more striking were the torches, their orange-red flames leaping high in the night wind, casting a scorching light on everyone's faces. They were shouting something, and the clamor seemed to surge up the building like a tide.

Xu Zhuohua frowned slightly, looking at the crowd of people below, her fingertips unconsciously tightening around the balcony railing.

It's finally here.

——————In the military camp——————

Twilight, like a piece of velvet soaked in ink, is slowly spreading across the horizon, blurring the clear outlines of the daytime.

Cheng Muyun and Zhang Qi stood side by side on the edge of the rooftop of the main building of the military camp. The evening breeze swept by, carrying the lingering heat of the day, causing the hem of their clothes to flutter slightly, but it could not dispel the heavy atmosphere between their brows.

The streetlights in the distance lit up one by one, casting a dim yellow glow in the deepening twilight, which made the rooftop appear even more solemn.

Zhang Qi lowered his head and spoke in a low voice, as if afraid of disturbing the momentary silence: "At three o'clock in the afternoon, Deputy Director Chen personally escorted Madam back to the Cheng Mansion. People were arranged to guard her both inside and outside, so it should be safe. As for the Governor's wife... she went out to a banquet with Uncle Li and hasn't returned yet."

Cheng Muyun didn't turn around; his gaze remained fixed on the entrance to the military camp downstairs—where a large group of reporters were crammed together, their camera flashes going off in the dim light, like a swarm of fireflies waiting for their chance, flickering with curiosity and unease.

His brows furrowed slightly, his eyes as deep and unfathomable as a cold pool. His voice betrayed little emotion, yet carried an undeniable resolve: "Things have been turbulent lately, with too many variables. Send two more teams to guard the perimeter of the Cheng residence, making sure Madam is safe."

After a brief pause, he looked away from the group of reporters and gazed towards the west of the city. "Also, go to the pear orchard now."

He added, "Mei Heming has a grand finale performance tonight. After the show, I'll personally invite him to the military camp. I'll tell him I have something important to discuss with him in person."

Zhang Qi responded with "Yes," and didn't ask any further questions.

The current situation is delicate, and every step must be taken with caution.

As he turned around, he deliberately kept a low profile, moved quickly along the shadows at the edge of the rooftop to avoid being seen by reporters downstairs, and went downstairs through the side emergency exit.

By the time he reached the back gate of the military camp, the last vestiges of orange-red sunset were reluctantly sinking into the distant horizon, casting a long shadow of his figure before it was quickly swallowed by the approaching night.

Zhang Qi's figure completely disappeared into the thick, inky darkness, leaving Cheng Muyun alone on the rooftop, facing the deepening twilight.

The evening breeze, carrying a hint of early autumn coolness, swept across the rooftop, ruffling the stray hairs on Cheng Muyun's forehead, but that slight coolness did nothing to dispel the stuffiness in his chest.

It felt like a damp wad of cotton was stuck in his throat, making his breathing heavier. An inexplicable unease grew wildly in his heart like vines, making his fingertips feel cold.

The commotion at the entrance of the military camp downstairs suddenly changed.

The reporters, who had been huddled together in twos and threes, whispering to each other, seemed to have been stung by something. Several newspaper staff members who had run ahead were now tiptoeing to squeeze next to their companions, whispering urgently and pointing incessantly toward the main road outside the military camp.

In a short while, the reporters, who had been sitting or squatting, all stood up at the same time, cameras and pens in hand, necks stretched out, all eyes drawn to the main road leading to the city outside the camp gate as if by a magnet, and a restless anxiety rose in the air.

Cheng Muyun's heart sank suddenly, and he subconsciously took half a step forward, his hand gripping the edge of the rooftop tightening abruptly.

He gazed into the distance, following the reporters' line of sight—the shadows of the trees at the end of the road swayed in the twilight, their lush canopies like clumps of ink, completely obscuring the distant view.

But through the gaps in the swaying branches and leaves, he clearly glimpsed a few streaks of leaping red light, which flashed by and quickly disappeared into the deeper shadows.

Is that firelight?

The red was so faint, fragmented by the dense foliage, that its source was impossible to discern.

But Cheng Muyun's back instantly broke out in a cold sweat. The premonition he had just felt was magnified infinitely at this moment, weighing heavily on him and making it almost impossible for him to breathe.

The hurried footsteps pounded against the rooftop steps. Zhang Qi practically tumbled and crawled up, his military boots making a frantic sound on the concrete. Sweat soaked his forehead and clung to his pale face, completely erasing his usual composed demeanor.

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