“If he is my subordinate, then it is my duty to find out the truth.”
His tone was unwavering.
“I won’t allow my people to be played for fools—and you are the only outsider here.”
Hong Ning set her book aside.
“Are you interrogating me, Young Master Yang?”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
Yang Zhen showed no trace of guilt.
“Perhaps this is all a misunderstanding. But if someone else is pretending to be a ghost, then exposing the truth would benefit you as well.”
Hong Ning met his gaze coldly.
“There are more of you than there are of me. If you’ve already decided to protect your own, then it doesn’t matter what I say.”
Her voice was steady, but there was a clear bite to her words.
“If Young Master Yang truly understands the meaning of justice, then let me remind you—your man forced his way into my room, called me a ghost, and tarnished my reputation.”
She let the words settle before continuing.
“Surely, Young Master Yang is here to apologize?”
Yang Zhen’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes darkening.
A flicker of anger surfaced beneath his calm exterior.
Hong Ning said coldly, “A man forced his way into my room in the middle of the night and even tried to take me away with him. Where did he get such audacity? I never imagined that merchants would behave like entitled bullies.”
At this, Yang Zhen’s gaze immediately flickered toward Zhao Xing.
Zhao Xing lowered his head, too afraid to speak.
Yang Zhen quickly regained his composure. With a calm expression, he clasped his hands and said,
“It was my failure to discipline him properly. I apologize on his behalf.”
But before Hong Ning could respond, he let out a soft scoff, his tone carrying an unmistakable note of disdain.
“However, as the saying goes, ‘where there’s no wind, waves do not rise.’ Flies only gather around an egg with cracks. A person who keeps themselves pure will naturally be free of trouble. I trust you understand this principle.”
His meaning was clear—he was implying that she lacked self-respect, which was why she had invited trouble upon herself.
Hong Ning let out a cold laugh.
“That is nothing more than the opinion of flies. You must think eggs are truly pathetic—just sitting there helplessly, waiting for flies to decide whether or not to land on them.”
Yang Zhen stiffened.
Hong Ning continued without looking at him, flipping through her book as she calmly organized the pages.
“I fail to understand Young Master Yang’s logic. If a man lets his dog run loose and bite someone, does he blame the person for not keeping their distance?”
She paused briefly, then straightened up and looked at him.
“Whether an egg has cracks or not is irrelevant—flies have no right to land on it in the first place. And for those arrogant flies who believe they can go wherever they please… well, sometimes the egg teaches a lesson of its own.”
She set her book down and met his gaze directly.
“There is right and wrong everywhere in the world—why should I be the one to hide?”
Her voice was calm but unwavering, carrying an undeniable sharpness.
After a moment, she said dismissively,
“I’m going to rest now. If you have no further business, Young Master Yang, you should return to your room as well.”
No woman had ever dared to contradict him so openly—let alone drive him away like this.
Yang Zhen’s face darkened.
After a long, tense silence, he forced out a stiff “Forgive the intrusion.”
Then, with a sharp flick of his sleeve, he stormed away.
The courtyard fell into an uneasy silence.
The rest of the men stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do.
Hong Ning, as if suddenly remembering something, turned to them and said,
“This place is dangerous. You’d all do well to be cautious tonight. Whatever you do, do not wander off alone.”
The night was pitch black, the wind rustling through the trees with a low, eerie whisper.
With her calm voice and the unsettling atmosphere, her words sounded less like a casual warning and more like a prophecy—or a foreboding omen.
Despite knowing she was just a young girl, none of them could bring themselves to laugh it off.
Even though they had been the ones in the wrong, she hadn’t held a grudge or retaliated.
Instead, she had warned them.
For a brief moment, there was an odd sense of guilt among them.
Someone hesitated, then muttered a quiet “thank you”.
With that, the group finally dispersed, returning to their rooms.
* * *
Deep into the night.
A faint rustling sound broke the stillness.
The campfire in the courtyard had almost burned out, wisps of thin smoke curling into the night air.
The ground, damp with moisture, shimmered faintly in the dying glow of the embers—it had begun to drizzle.
The door of one of the rooms creaked open, and a figure stumbled out, grumbling curses under his breath.
Fumbling in the dim light, he made his way toward the latrine.
The cold night wind swept through the courtyard.
He shivered but kept walking.
When he was ten paces away from the outhouse, he suddenly stopped.
A strange feeling crept up his spine.
Something wasn’t right.
The latrine stood against a tall wall, meaning the wind shouldn’t be able to reach him from this direction.
Yet, here it was—a sudden, chilling gust, whispering past his ears.
His mind flashed back to the stories he had heard earlier that day.
His feet froze in place.
He stood there, staring at the gaping darkness of the latrine door, hesitating.
Then—
Just as he was deciding whether to move forward or turn back—
A pair of pale hands silently, soundlessly, slid over his shoulders from behind—
And wrapped gently around his neck.
The hands were long, slender, and unnaturally smooth, almost luminescent in the darkness.
Their delicate fingers traced softly along his skin, cold and eerily flawless.
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