Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Fire Breaks Out

Time slipped by gently, and before long, dusk had fallen, framing a stalemate in the waning light. The assassin, wounded and trapped within the heavily guarded palace, could not escape. He was forced to hide in Consort Wan’s chambers, clinging to life for the moment.

“You really are something,” Consort Wan complained with a look of deep distaste, watching the assassin, bare-chested, tending to his wounds. “Not only did you fail in your task, but you’ve also managed to bring trouble to my door. If anyone discovers you here, how am I supposed to explain myself?”

Her mood soured as she observed him. She’d wanted an efficient killer to end a life, but instead, she’d brought in a useless burden—one that now threatened to drag her down as well.

The assassin, utterly unfazed by her disdain, lounged with an air of nonchalance. “Your Ladyship, I think you’re being unfair. After all, I risked my life for you. Is it too much to ask for a few days’ shelter?”

“You keep calling me ‘Your Ladyship’—do you truly understand what that means? Do you have any idea what will happen to me if you’re found here?”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. If I’m caught, I’ll name names—you included.”

He said it with such confidence that Consort Wan felt a knot of anxiety twist inside her. She glared at him, her expression murderous. “This useless wretch! If he stays here any longer, he’ll implicate me for certain. I must find a solution!”

Swallowing her anger, she let him remain for now, even going so far as to send him a thoughtful meal that evening—her hospitality almost excessive.

“My, my, such a lavish spread tonight. Aren’t you afraid someone might grow suspicious about an extra pair of chopsticks in your quarters?” The assassin scoffed, eyeing the dishes with open derision.

He casually picked up a piece of seaweed, his gaze lingering on Consort Wan as if trying to divine her sudden generosity.

Her hands crossed defensively over her chest, she forced herself to sound stern. “I won’t be eating tonight. This is for you—eat well, heal quickly, then leave. After that, I want nothing more to do with you. I won’t let you drag me down.”

The assassin, undeterred, grinned. “How rare, Your Ladyship, to see you so attentive. I won’t let your kindness go to waste. I’ll focus on healing and be out of your hair soon!”

Consort Wan could only wonder at his shamelessness. Utterly exasperated, she huffed and swept out of the room, closing the door behind her with a measured calm she did not feel.

Once outside, she muttered under her breath, “Ha! Taking my money, eating my food, and thinking to implicate me? You can rot for all I care!”

No sooner had she finished her muttering than a series of sharp noises erupted from within.

A maid, drawn by the commotion, hurried over, her voice tinged with concern. “Your Ladyship, is everything all right inside?”

Consort Wan’s reply was cool. “What could possibly be wrong? The weather is dry, but do you expect a fire to break out from nowhere?”

She sent the maid away with a sneer, then slipped a fire-starter from her sleeve. With a practiced flick, she coaxed a flame to life and, seizing her chance, tossed it onto an oil-soaked patch nearby.

In an instant, fire roared to life, smoke billowing upward as flames devoured the abandoned woodshed.

Consort Wan, composed as ever, folded her arms and drifted away from the burning outbuilding, her pace unhurried.

The commotion quickly drew others, and a chorus of frantic cries pierced the evening: “Fire! Fire! Someone help, there’s a fire!”

Meanwhile, the disturbance reached Huarong’s quarters. “What did you say? There’s a fire at Consort Wan’s place?”

“Yes, Your Ladyship. What good fortune! That woman always oppressed you, flaunting herself despite her humble origins, acting as she pleased because she’s been here longer. She deserved this! Now, look—everyone’s scrambling to put it out, but no one seems too eager. Heaven does have eyes!”

Suxin, arms folded, was positively gleeful.

Huarong, however, looked uncomfortable. “Someone’s quarters are burning—why take pleasure in that? What if someone loses their life? We should go see what’s happened.”

Suxin pouted. “Why bother? Have you forgotten how she treated you?”

Huarong smiled. “I’m not going to offer comfort. Remember to bring Cuiyu along.”

Her tone was meaningful. Though Suxin harbored doubts, she obediently brought Cuiyu as instructed.

From a distance, thick smoke was already rolling across the sky, the flames casting a terrifying spectacle.

“Your Ladyship, that looks dangerous. Perhaps we shouldn’t get too close?” Suxin fretted. Even without approaching the blaze, the smoke alone threatened to blacken their faces.

Huarong, delicate-skinned herself, had no business suffering such torment.

Her reasoning was sound, and Huarong nodded thoughtfully before suddenly turning her gaze to Cuiyu. “Cuiyu, why don’t you go offer Consort Wan our regards? Find out what’s happened. This fire is alarming, and it would be inconvenient for me to go myself.”

“Me?” Cuiyu hesitated, the pain from her own injuries making her reluctant. Why was Huarong, usually so considerate, sending her alone?

“Oh, that was my oversight. Why don’t you and Suxin go together?”

Was that the answer she wanted? Cuiyu pursed her lips but ultimately shook her head. “I’ll go alone. It’s not a big deal.”

Without giving them a chance to object, she hurried off toward Consort Wan’s chambers.

Watching Cuiyu’s retreating figure, Suxin asked, “Your Ladyship, are you testing her, or do you suspect Consort Wan as well?”

“You’re quite astute,” Huarong replied. “Last time, I noticed something odd in the rumors. Everything fits together too neatly. We need to test this.”

Propping her chin on her hand, Huarong added, “Go notify the palace guards. Have them keep watch at the common graveyard. There may be unexpected discoveries—this fire is far too suspicious.”

Consort Wan’s quarters lay to the southeast, with a sturdy pond behind them—not the sort of place a fire would spread easily.

This disaster was surely more complex than it appeared.

Enduring the dull ache from her wounds, Cuiyu, with the aid of a palace maid, soon arrived before Consort Wan.

Consort Wan, seeing her approach so openly, was visibly displeased. She pulled Cuiyu into a corner and scolded in a low voice, “We’re in the midst of a crisis. As someone from Huarong’s quarters, aren’t you afraid that coming here so brazenly will arouse suspicion?”