The silence of the Tang Estate was absolute, a stark contrast to the murderous plotting occurring across the city. The moon hung high, silvering the rooftops and casting long, skeletal shadows across the courtyard.
In the western guest suite, Meng Yan stood by the window, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm. She had tried to wait, to play the part of the dignified Matriarch, but her Nine-Yin Lunar Phoenix bloodline was reacting to the cold midnight air, her skin humming with a frigid, lunar energy that only Shen Yu's "Yang" fire could balance.
Exactly thirty minutes after the estate had fallen into slumber, the door to her suite creaked open. Meng Yan slipped out, her midnight black silks replaced by a sheer, violet-colored inner robe. Every step down the quiet corridor felt like a transgression, yet she was guided by the craving etched into her very marrow.
She reached the master suite and offered a soft, tentative knock.
