Chapter 3 The House of Silence and Red Silk🥀

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The rain followed them through the mountain roads like a forgotten ghost.

Yue Lin sat in the carriage, wrapped in a thin fur-lined cloak far too fine for a prisoner. Her bare feet rested on plush carpets, soaked and cold. The scent of aged cedar and sandalwood filled the air. Outside the curtained windows, soldiers rode in silence, surrounding the Duke's personal black-lacquered carriage like a wall of steel.

No one spoke.

Not the coachman. Not the guards. Not even her.

But her mind was far from still.

> Why did he save me?

Why claim me as his wife?

What does he want?

Every breath reminded her that her body was not her own. The ribs ached with each inhale. Her wrists were raw, and her skin stung where the cane had torn it open. But the assassin in her stirred now with every bump in the road-cataloguing routes, escape possibilities, which guards held their swords too loosely.

And then there was him.

Li Zeyan.

The man who had walked into her execution and claimed her like a possession-no, like something long lost and rediscovered.

He hadn't looked at her with desire. Nor pity.

He had looked at her like a puzzle he already knew the answer to.

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The journey through the capital felt endless. But as dusk descended, the carriage rolled to a halt.

When the door opened, the smell of pine and blood greeted her.

Hei'an Manor wasn't a home. It was a fortress.

Built into the mountain's shoulder, it rose like a dark palace from the mist-jagged rooftops, black-tiled walls, towering archways lined with red lanterns that swayed like floating embers. Guards stood along the stairs, their faces hidden, their blades exposed. Silent.

Always silent.

Yue Lin stepped down from the carriage, legs weak but pride intact. Her cloak dragged behind her, damp with blood and rain.

Servants bowed low, none daring to look her in the eye.

"She will sleep in the Red Pavilion," Li Zeyan said without glancing her way. "Have the physician brought. No visitors without my approval."

He walked ahead, robes trailing behind him like the tail of a storm.

No one questioned him.

> Not even her.

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The Red Pavilion

A maid-young, silent, and clearly terrified-led Yue Lin through the inner courtyard. The manor was vast and empty, designed to muffle sound and swallow warmth. Every hall bore paintings of war: broken swords, fields of fire, faces turned toward screaming skies.

Her room was... unsettling.

The Red Pavilion lived up to its name. Crimson silk draped every surface-walls, bedding, lanterns, even the candles burned red wax. The windows were latticed like cages, the floor polished to a blood-dark shine.

This wasn't a bridal suite.

It was a cage gilded in silk.

The maid quickly bowed and disappeared, leaving Yue Lin standing alone.

She didn't sit.

She didn't rest.

She began to search.

Drawers. Floorboards. Under the bed. Behind the scrolls on the wall. Hidden compartments. Every movement calculated, quiet. She searched for poison, traps, surveillance.

Instead, she found a letter.

Sealed. Black wax. No signature.

She opened it with a hairpin.

> "Your life now belongs to Hei'an. If you run, you will be dragged back. If you betray, you will die slower than your past self ever imagined. Eat. Rest. Heal. The game has only just begun."

There was no name.

But the penmanship was elegant.

Precise.

Like the Duke's voice.

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A physician arrived soon after, escorted by two guards. He was elderly, professional, and didn't dare speak more than a few words. He cleaned her wounds, applied salves, and bowed three times before fleeing like a shadow at dawn.

Yue Lin sat on the edge of the bed, legs dangling. Her body wanted to collapse.

But her mind sharpened like a dagger being turned.

> What is this place?

Why does it feel like a trap designed for someone like me?

And then, just as the candlelight began to die...

The doors creaked open.

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The Duke Appears

He entered with no announcement. No guards.

Li Zeyan, robes unbelted now, hair slightly loose. But his expression was carved in granite.

She stood, automatically. Her fingers curled around the edge of the table.

"Sit," he said calmly, not unkindly.

She didn't.

They stared at each other-two creatures born of violence, pretending to play husband and wife.

He took in her bandaged wrists, the stiffness in her posture.

"You recover fast," he noted. "Most wouldn't be walking."

"I'm not most," she replied quietly.

A smile ghosted his lips. Not pleasure. Not amusement. Recognition.

"Who are you, really?"

She said nothing.

"Your eyes," he said, stepping closer, "don't match this body. They're older. Too still."

She tilted her chin. "Why did you save me?"

"You looked like someone I knew," he said, pausing just a step away. "Once. A long time ago."

She arched an eyebrow. "A lover?"

"A ghost."

Their silence thickened. Lanterns flickered.

He turned to leave, but paused at the doorway.

"You may sleep in peace tonight," he said. "But know this, Lady Li... if you try to run, I won't chase you."

She blinked.

He met her eyes, voice low and cold:

> "I'll let you run. And then I'll burn down everything you think is safe, until you have nowhere left but my side."

The door shut behind him.

And Yue Lin, assassin of a dead era, sat alone in a crimson cage-wondering if she had just traded one execution for a slower, deeper kind of death.

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