Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Ah Ying was five years old when she was picked up from a pile of corpses.

It was winter, and the snow fell deep. Dark red scabs of blood clung to the edge of the Mass Grave. She huddled beside the body of a woman, her body already numb from the cold. All she could remember was the hunger, the freezing chill, and the moon in the sky, as white and sharp as a blade.

A troop of black-clad riders passed along the mountain path. Hooves crushed the thin ice, coming to a halt before her.

A youth draped in a black fox-fur cloak looked down at her. His features were cold and clear, and with snow clinging to his boots, he looked like someone who had stepped right out of the moon.

“Still alive?” he asked.

A subordinate beside him replied, “Your Highness, I fear she won’t last long.”

The youth didn’t spare her a second glance, merely saying indifferently, “Take her.”

That year, the late Emperor was gravely ill, and the struggle for the throne had already turned bloody. The youth was the Seventh Prince, Gu Yanzhi. His mother’s clan was prominent, and his methods were even more ruthless. Others only knew that he had left the capital on imperial orders to investigate a case and had happened to pick up a half-dead orphan girl on his way.

No one knew that it was the first time Ah Ying had ever seen him.

When she woke up, she was lying in the corner of a heated pavilion, drinking a bowl of medicine so bitter it made her tongue go numb. An old nanny wiped her face clean and said, “You have a stubborn life. Since you survived, you shall live for His Highness from now on.”

“What is my name?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

The old nanny paused. “You do not need a name.”

Later, Gu Yanzhi happened to pass by the corridor and overheard this. He remarked casually, “Since she was picked up from the shadows, call her Ah Ying.”

He left as soon as he finished speaking, his pace never even faltering.

But Ah Ying remembered those two syllables for the rest of her life.

She originally had no past, no parents, and no place of origin. From that day on, she had a name, and a reason to live.

Gu Yanzhi was her moon.

And she was merely a shadow beneath his feet.

Ah Ying began learning how to hold a blade at seven, how to move stealthily at eight, how to identify poisons at nine, and how to serve as a body double at ten.

Those who taught her never treated her like a child.

She once broke her arm, only to continue training the day after it was set. On winter nights, she would soak in icy water until her lips turned purple, just to learn how to remain conscious under the effects of cold-based toxins. When she was besieged by a dozen death-row prisoners, her body was left bloodied and mangled, yet the instructor only watched coldly from a distance, waiting for her to crawl back up on her own.

“You are not a person,” the instructor said. “You are the Prince’s shield, the Prince’s blade, and a spare life kept in the darkness for the Prince.”

Ah Ying nodded every time.

She never cried.

She knew that being able to survive was already a stolen blessing.

Gu Yanzhi would occasionally come to watch her practice. He always stood far away, dressed in black robes with a jade belt, his expression as faint as a thin layer of frost. Sometimes, when she stood steadily on plum blossom poles for two full hours, he would give a slight nod. Sometimes, when she delivered a lethal strike with a blade that didn’t deviate by a hair’s breadth, he would only say, “Passable.”

Those two words alone were enough to keep Ah Ying happy for a long time.

She didn’t know what love was.

She only knew that as long as Gu Yanzhi was there, she wanted to stand a little straighter and hold her blade a little firmer. Even if her hands were shaking and her knees were covered in wounds, she refused to show even a hint of pathetic weakness before him.

When she was twelve, she blocked an arrow for Gu Yanzhi for the first time.

At a palace banquet that day, assassins planted by the Third Prince had hidden among the musicians. A crossbow bolt shot out from behind the curtains. Gu Yanzhi was speaking with the ministers, his eyelashes not even flickering. Ah Ying leapt down from the rafters, throwing herself forward almost instinctively, taking the arrow squarely in her shoulder.

Blood instantly soaked through half of her clothes.

She knelt on the ground, her vision going dark. All she could hear around her was the sound of blades being drawn and the eruption of screams.

Gu Yanzhi looked down at her, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Not dead?” he asked.

Ah Ying endured the pain and answered in a low voice, “This subordinate is still alive.”

He remained silent for a moment, then reached out and snapped off the protruding end of the arrow. His movements were as efficient as if he were handling a handy weapon.

“If you’re alive, then continue.”

That night, she suffered from a persistent high fever. Before losing consciousness, her only thought was that the Prince had touched her.

Even if it was only to break the arrow for her.