After that night, Meng Yiran’s gaze toward Jenny became somewhat evasive. But Jenny and the other maids treated her just as they always did, apparently oblivious to any clues from all the cat hair scattered around the room.
Meng Yiran secretly breathed a sigh of relief. She walked with her head held high once more, reclaiming her former elegance.
The day of the coming-of-age banquet finally arrived.
Just past midnight, Tong Yuwu officially came of age. Meng Yiran held a carefully selected pink rose in her mouth and clumsily pinned it into her hair. Tong Yuwu smiled and scratched her chin, but Meng Yiran couldn’t muster any joy. Instead, she restlessly licked the tip of Tong Yuwu’s finger.
When she woke from a nap and even choked on her own saliva while yawning, her sense of foreboding reached its peak.
Overnight, the rose in Tong Yuwu’s hair had begun to wilt. She reached out to stroke Little White Cat’s back, but Meng Yiran inexplicably shivered. With a whoosh, she leaped onto the bedside table, arching her back and hissing.
Tong Yuwu, left behind on the bed, looked up at her, her expression flickering with uncertainty.
Later, the steward burst into the bedroom in a panic. He announced that the Family Honor Medal needed for the coming-of-age banquet had gone missing.
This Family Honor Medal was a treasure bestowed by the Royal Family in recognition of the Tong Family during its most prosperous era. About the size of a fist, it was engraved with the roses and double-tassel swords symbolizing the Tong Family and the Royal Family. The evening banquet featured an important ritual: the family elders—or a respected outsider if the family line was thin—would pin the honor medal on the new head of the family before all the guests, signifying the transfer of power.
This duty undoubtedly fell to Tong Rencheng.
At that moment, Tong Yuwu was still in her bedroom, surrounded by two maids who were braiding her hair.
Upon hearing the steward’s report, her expression didn’t change in the slightest. She simply remarked, as if reciting a formality, “That’s really unfortunate.”
The steward’s face drained of color. He apologized profusely while outlining contingency plans. Meng Yiran grew irritated listening to him. Glancing up, she spotted the two personal bodyguards standing like immovable mountains at the door. With that, she cast aside her last lingering hesitation. She rose from the vanity and silently padded out of the room.
Before leaving, she glanced back. Tong Yuwu was looking up and speaking with Jenny, who seemed to sense her gaze and glanced toward the door. Meng Yiran wagged her tail to reassure her there was no need to worry, then turned and left without a backward glance.
Her target was crystal clear.
Even pondering with her paws, she knew exactly who was behind the missing medal.
Tong Yuwu and the steward might hesitate to openly search Tong Rencheng’s room because of his status—but she, Meng Yiran, could!
In just a few minutes, she evaded everyone and sneaked into Tong Rencheng’s Room. The door was tightly shut, so Meng Yiran circled to the adjacent window with practiced ease. Leveraging her liquid-flexible cat body, she slipped through a gap less than four inches wide.
Tong Rencheng’s quarters were the grandest guest room in the Castle, only slightly smaller than Tong Yuwu’s Bedroom, with nearly identical furnishings. Regular maid service kept it tidy, though a foul tobacco stench hung in the air. Meng Yiran pushed down her discomfort and, drawing on experience gained from previously tearing apart Tong Yuwu’s Bedroom, began searching every corner.
Minutes ticked by. Footsteps echoed outside the room, but she still hadn’t found the missing medal. Meng Yiran retreated to the window she’d entered through and peeked out. To her surprise, the intruder shared her goal. After shutting the door, they too began furtively rummaging around. She figured this must be someone dispatched by the steward. Young as he was, at least he wasn’t a complete fool.
With someone else handling the search, Meng Yiran prepared to leave.
A lone cat had limited reach; she couldn’t match their efficiency. If the medal was truly in the room and they failed to find it, a little kitten like her would be utterly helpless.
She started back the way she’d come, sneaking along quietly. Halfway down the hall, however, Meng Yiran suddenly spotted a strange male servant. He was hunched over, moving with extreme stealth—glancing back warily after every step or two.
Her instincts screamed that something was off. She darted into the shadow of a window and watched as the male servant drew a small object wrapped in black cloth from his bosom. With utmost care, he tucked it into a golden vase at the corridor’s bend.
Once finished, he let out a relieved breath and strode away as if nothing had happened.
From her hiding spot in the shadows, Meng Yiran’s gaze locked onto that golden vase. Her heart pounded wildly.
After all her searching, it had fallen right into her lap!
Could heaven finally be taking pity on a weak and helpless noble miss and her loyal little kitten?
Meng Yiran waited a little longer to make sure the male servant wouldn’t come back. Only then did she emerge from her hiding spot and cautiously leap to the side of the vase. It was a sizable vase. She sprang up on her hind legs, hooked her front paws over the rim, and craned her neck to peer inside. The interior was pitch black, but she could still vaguely make out a swath of black velvet cloth lining the bottom.
Reaching in to fish it out was impossible, so Meng Yiran dropped back to the base of the vase. She reared up on her hind legs, planted her front paws against the vase’s body, and gritted her teeth as she pushed with all her might. The vase tilted slightly under her efforts, filling her with a glimmer of hope. She redoubled her focus, determined to topple it to the ground and shatter it in one decisive shove.
But in that instant, without any warning, a hand shot out from behind her and seized the scruff of her neck.
Meng Yiran’s entire body went rigid. Before she could even chide herself for her carelessness, a voice sounded from behind her.
“Heh, got you at last.”
~~~
Meanwhile, in the Castle Master Bedroom.
Tong Yuwu’s long black hair had been neatly pinned up, topped with an exquisite silver crown that lent her the noble air of a fairy-tale princess. The maids helped her into the elaborate gown and jewelry, unable to resist stealing glances at her from the corners of their eyes whenever their hands paused.
Suddenly, two muffled thuds echoed from the door. The two maids exchanged a glance. The older one set aside her work for the moment and headed toward the door, calling out, “What was that?”
She hadn’t taken more than a few steps before the bedroom door cracked open just a sliver. A puff of smoke billowed into the room. The maid’s body went limp in an instant, and as she collapsed, her last recollection was the strange, medicinal scent that filled her nostrils.
Roughly a minute later, three masked men slipped into the room.
The one in the lead approached the fallen maid and prodded her with his boot. Seeing no response, he remarked approvingly, “This devil potion works like a charm. She’s out cold like a dead pig—saves us a ton of hassle.”
“Cut the chatter and get to work,” one of his companions snapped, brushing past him and deeper into the room. He dragged the other maid, slumped against the bed, out of the way and pointed at the unconscious Tong Yuwu lying atop it. “This the noble miss?”
The other two crowded in for a look at Tong Yuwu’s face. One man’s eyes lit up. “By the gods, this woman’s gorgeous!” He swallowed hard. “You sure we have to do her in right here? What a damn waste!”
The leader of the masked men sneered. “Save your pity for her after we’ve collected our pay.”
The man clicked his tongue, his lecherous gleam undimmed. “How about you two hold off? At least let me have a go first.”
The other man lost his patience and lashed out with a kick. “Old Mac and the rest are waiting outside to cover our exit. Don’t waste my time.”
The man shot him a vicious glare but held back from retaliating, mindful of the mission.
The leader ignored their squabble and drew a dagger from his belt, tracing it idly over Tong Yuwu’s body.
Even a self-proclaimed cold-blooded killer like him had to admit that the noble miss before him was the most exquisite mark he’d ever been tasked to eliminate.
She hadn’t yet donned the full coming-of-age gown and wore only a simple white chemise, which did nothing to conceal her radiant allure. The man’s gaze roved upward from her chest—taking in the perfectly curved bosom, the delicate line of her collarbone and neck, and her fair, flawless cheeks. Every feature was perfection. But what truly captivated him were those purple irises, as stunning as the rarest gem trotted out at the climax of a black-market auction, enough to drive anyone to madness at first sight…
Wait—irises?!
The man’s eyes flew wide. He stared at Tong Yuwu in disbelief.
The two maids still lay sprawled on the floor, mute testament to the drug’s potency. Yet the noble miss on the bed had opened her eyes at some unknown moment. Those violet depths turned slowly, taking in the silhouettes of all three intruders.
After a split second of shock, the man’s peripheral vision fell on the dagger in his grip. Its honed edge caught the light with a chilling gleam. He curled his lips into a wicked grin and raised his arm high.
“Call it luck or misfortune—you get to watch your own death unfold, fully awake to savor every second.” He intoned a mocking eulogy for Tong Yuwu. “But don’t be too frightened. My blade’s swift; you won’t suffer long.”
Tong Yuwu said nothing. She remained lying on the bed, tilting her head to appraise the three men with an eerie composure.
The man shut his eyes for a final beat, then brought his arm slashing down without further delay.
