The first time Lin Wuyin saw Bai Yujin, the merchant heiress of the Eastern Silk Consortium, she didn't know she was seeing the woman who would one day hold her heart.
She only saw a problem.
The caravan crawled through the forest trail like an overfed centipede—wagons layered in silks, bells, spices, and guards in mismatched armor. Bright colors. Too loud. Too obvious.
And they were heading straight toward the outer edge of her forest.
From the trees above, Wuyin crouched, watching with narrow eyes. She had left the deep wilderness a few months ago and followed rumors, whispers among fearful hunters and stray travelers of a "shadow woman" in the woods. She needed coin. Food. Information. The wider world was foreign, but her instincts remained sharp.
The caravan didn't belong here.
Not just because it was noisy.
But because it was being followed.
---
Two ridges behind the caravan, a group of riders waited in silence. Ten, maybe twelve. No sect uniforms, but their movements were clean. Coordinated. Wuyin watched one of them dismount and touch the trail.
Bandits didn't act like that.
Too quiet. Too professional.
Not bandits. Not common killers.
Bounty hunters.
Or worse.
Her brows furrowed.
Something about the caravan was worth killing for.
She shifted her weight, about to leave—then paused.
She felt… a pull.
Not toward danger. Not toward greed.
But toward one of the wagons.
---
Inside the fourth wagon from the front, a young woman sat with her chin resting in her palm, half-bored, half-listening to her attendant prattle on.
Bai Yujin was dressed in traveling robes far too elegant for the muddy path she rode upon—white silks with lilac embroidery, her waist cinched with a green sash that matched the fan in her lap. Her hair was styled in the Eastern pavilion fashion, with a jade pin in the shape of a lotus.
She looked out through the curtain of the wagon, lashes lowered, and exhaled softly.
> "It's about time we're ambushed, don't you think?"
Her attendant froze. "L-Lady Bai?"
Yujin smiled.
> "Too quiet. Forest's too narrow. I paid for this route to be dangerous, remember?"
"…Paid for?"
"I'm bored. And if we survive, the local tribes will owe me. It's business."
She tilted her fan, letting the sunlight catch the silver edge of its ribs.
> "Though I suppose I wouldn't complain if a pretty swordswoman happened to save me today."
Her words meant nothing.
Just indulgence. A game. A tease.
She did not know—could not know—that the woman she had spoken into existence was already watching from above.
And listening.
---
The ambush began at dusk.
It always did.
Three arrows struck the lead wagon's oxen, followed by firecrackers to cause panic. Smoke bombs. Screaming guards. Horses spooked. The forest lit up in chaos.
Wuyin didn't move.
Not yet.
She watched the attackers slip in and out of the trees—fast, efficient, disabling guards without killing them unless necessary. Professionals, clearly not interested in the cargo. Their eyes sought one wagon.
The fourth.
Her gaze flicked back to the young woman inside it.
Still seated.
Still calm.
Fan open now, hiding her lips as she whispered instructions to her panicking guards.
Unbothered.
Wuyin's eyes narrowed.
Why wasn't she afraid?
---
The first assassin reached the wagon.
The fan flicked.
A flash of silver light arced from the window—and the man fell, clutching his face.
Wuyin blinked.
A hidden blade, embedded in the fan's tip. Thrown with precision.
Yujin, of course, had already turned her gaze elsewhere, frowning.
"…Tsk. I only brought the light ones."
---
Two more assassins approached from the side.
Then stopped.
Something moved in the trees.
Not a shadow. Not a breeze.
But something—someone—who made no sound at all.
Lin Wuyin dropped between them without warning.
Two quick movements.
Two bodies fell.
Silent.
She did not speak. She did not hesitate.
By the time the third assassin turned, his throat was already cut.
One of the guards saw her silhouette then—black cloak made from stitched beast hide, mask half-pulled over her jaw, hair wild, eyes sharp and cold.
"W-Who—?!"
She was gone.
---
Inside the wagon, Bai Yujin tilted her head.
She felt it, even if she didn't see it.
A pressure. A presence. Not of danger—but precision.
Like something honed.
Like a blade.
"…Interesting," she murmured. "Definitely not one of ours."
---
By the time the guards regrouped, the assassins had fled.
Not a single one had made it past the fourth wagon.
The forest returned to silence.
Yujin stepped out of the wagon, brushing imaginary dust from her shoulder, and glanced toward the treetops.
Nothing.
But the fan in her hand trembled, ever so slightly.
She whispered, "You saw me, didn't you?"
And from far above, hidden in the shadows of the highest branch, Lin Wuyin stood.
Watching.
Silent.
For the first time in ten years, her pulse had stirred.