She had always known men sought entertainment wherever they went, and it wasn’t unusual for them to behave this way.
But Yang Zhen’s status was not ordinary—he was a married man with concubines, and yet he clearly believed she was not a respectable woman.
That was why he didn’t bother to stop his men’s crude remarks.
Instead, he simply gave a cold glance and ordered,
“Enough. Go clean up.”
The men quickly scattered, not daring to linger.
Yang Zhen snorted.
“Someone must have committed a murder here years ago and used ghost stories as a cover-up. Nothing but superstitious nonsense!”
Then, sweeping a sharp gaze over his men, he sneered.
“And yet a few words were enough to scare you all? Useless cowards.”
Was he implying that she had deliberately tried to frighten them?
Hong Ning laughed coldly.
A few extra bait pieces were always useful—if he was so eager to walk into danger, why should she stop him?
* * *
Night fell.
There was no moon, but the wind was strong, rustling the trees outside the walls.
Inside the room, candlelight flickered, casting shifting shadows across the walls.
Outside, however, the courtyard was alive with noise.
The group had built a fire and were roasting freshly hunted game, drinking, laughing, and chatting boisterously.
With so many people present, whatever was lurking in this place was unlikely to show itself tonight.
Disappointed, Hong Ning turned away.
She reached into her bag, pulled out Wen Xin’s manuscript, and began reading—not the sections on cultivation, but the new spells and talismans recorded in its pages.
Then—
The door suddenly swung open.
Hong Ning immediately looked up, wary.
Standing in the doorway was none other than Zhao Xing, the green-robed guard from earlier.
With a smarmy smile, he stepped forward and bowed.
“I am Zhao Xing, from the capital,” he introduced himself smoothly.
“It’s so lively outside, yet here you are—alone in your room. Why not join us?”
Hong Ning had already guessed his intentions.
She stared at him coldly, saying nothing.
Seeing that she did not immediately scold or reject him, Zhao Xing grew bolder.
He took a leisurely look around the room before sighing dramatically.
“A young lady traveling alone… truly, it must be difficult.”
Then, with a warm, gentlemanly smile, he added,
“If you ever need help with anything, just say the word. As long as it’s within my power, I’ll do whatever I can for you.”
Hong Ning nodded.
“Thank you.”
Even the fiercest and most sharp-tongued women could appear soft and delicate in candlelight.
And Hong Ning was already stunning.
Now, with the glow of the flickering flames, her beauty seemed even more radiant than in daylight.
Zhao Xing swallowed hard, his courage swelling along with his lust.
He stepped forward, reaching out to grab her hand.
“If the lady is willing…”
The stench of alcohol hit her nose.
Without a flicker of expression, Hong Ning took a step back, dodging his touch.
Realizing he had acted too hastily, Zhao Xing quickly withdrew his hand and put on a serious expression.
“I may not be the most accomplished man,” he said, “but my family is well-off enough. I serve under the young master and have some influence in the capital. If you have nowhere to go, why not—”
Hong Ning smiled and cut him off.
“You want me to go back with you?”
Hearing her say it so directly, Zhao Xing’s eyes lit up—this kind of woman was easy to handle.
“I just think it’s pitiful for a young lady to be all alone. Why not find yourself a stable home sooner rather than later? My wife is kind and understanding—if you agree, I promise you’ll never have to worry about food or clothing again. Gold, silks, whatever you want—it’s yours.”
Hong Ning pretended to consider his words for a moment, then slowly stepped closer, tilting her face up to him.
“Oh? In that case, I’ll go with you.”
Things had gone so smoothly that Zhao Xing was delighted.
With a grin, he reached out to pull her into his arms.
“Well, since you’ve agreed, why don’t we—”
But before he could finish, his smile froze.
His face drained of color.
His eyes widened—wider and wider—filling with pure terror.
His outstretched hands hung suspended in the air, unable to move.
Hong Ning raised an eyebrow.
For a long moment, Zhao Xing’s throat moved as if he were struggling to speak.
Then, with immense effort, he finally forced out a hoarse, trembling whisper.
“G-ghost… there’s a ghost! Someone help!”
He stumbled back, tripping over himself, and scrambled out of the room in utter panic.
Hong Ning, completely unbothered, simply sat back down at the table and continued reading her book.
* * *
Moments later, a crowd had gathered outside the door.
At least ten men armed with swords and knives stood tensely, peering into the room—only to find Hong Ning calmly seated inside, flipping through a book, completely unperturbed.
She didn’t seem to have any reaction at all to the commotion outside.
The men exchanged confused glances.
Seeing nothing unusual, two of them grabbed Zhao Xing by the arms and dragged him forward.
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