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The mystery of the Royal Bloodline echoed in her heart like a thunderclap, lingering long after the thought had crossed her mind. If this were true, the truth behind the massacre of the Nangong Family might be far more complex than she had imagined. And the appointment with Xiao Zhongyan at Mei Garden in three days only added to her indecision.
"Should I go or not?" Nangong Shuang murmured to herself, her fingers gently tracing the Plum Blossom Birthmark on her wrist. The mark flickered in the candlelight, resembling a silent enigma.
Qiao Er entered with a cup of hot tea and noticed Nangong Shuang's serious expression. She softly asked, "Miss, are you worried about the matter in three days?"
Nangong Shuang nodded. "Xiao Zhongyan has saved me multiple times; logically, I shouldn't doubt him. But the grievances between the Xiao Family and the Nangong Family..."
Qiao Er set down the tea cup and replied quietly, "Your concerns are not unfounded. Although Young Master Xiao is different from his father, he is still from the Xiao Family. Moreover, that Old Daoist mentioned that there would be dangers at the Meiyuan Gathering."
Nangong Shuang pondered for a moment. "If I don't go, I may never learn what Xiao Zhongyan refers to as 'important matters'; but if I do go, I fear falling into a trap. It's truly a dilemma."
"Perhaps you should prepare more," Qiao Er suggested. "I've already instructed people from the Azure Dragon Gang to secretly investigate the situation around Mei Garden to ensure everything is safe."
Nangong Shuang forced a smile. "You're right. Instead of overthinking here, it's better to be fully prepared. Go fetch that book 'Bencao Gangmu'; I need to brew some antidotes just in case."
Qiao Er complied and left, while Nangong Shuang moved to the window, staring blankly at the moonlight. For some reason, every time she thought of Xiao Zhongyan, a complex emotion surged within her—both vigilance and an indescribable flutter.
"This won't do," Nangong Shuang gently slapped her cheeks. "Now is not the time for romantic thoughts; I must focus on solving this case."
As she was deep in thought, a sudden light sound came from outside, as if something had struck against the window frame. Nangong Shuang instinctively grasped the short dagger at her waist and cautiously approached the window.
Outside was eerily quiet, with only a few locust trees swaying gently in the wind. Nangong Shuang carefully pushed open the window; a gust of night air rushed in, bringing with it a chill.
Just as she was about to close the window, her gaze was drawn to a small object on the ground. It was an exquisite bamboo tube, about the length of her index finger, seemingly used for carrying letters.
Nangong Shuang quickly picked up the bamboo tube and retreated indoors, closing the window securely behind her. She cautiously examined its exterior for any traps before carefully twisting off the lid.
Inside was indeed a rolled-up piece of paper. As Nangong Shuang unfolded it, she couldn't help but gasp—a blood letter!
The writing was dark red, clearly penned in blood; it was neat yet bore signs of haste: "Nangong Shuang, do you know? The massacre of the Nangong Family also implicated the Xiao Family as victims. The true culprit lies elsewhere; this has been ten years in planning, aimed at seizing imperial power. The plum mark on your wrist is a legacy of Feng Yu. Do not trust appearances; investigate 'Feng Yu Pavilion' for past events. In three days' time, proceed with caution. I will protect you from the shadows and reveal myself when the time is right.—Feng Yu"
Nangong Shuang's heart raced as she read this. What did it mean? The Xiao Family was also a victim? Who was Feng Yu? She examined the paper closely; it had a faint blue hue and felt cool to touch—distinctly different from ordinary paper.
This type of paper... Nangong Shuang's mind raced; this was precisely what her father used for transmitting secret messages—Han Quan Paper! This special paper originated from the Western Regions and was said to be made by soaking it in a thousand-year-old cold spring; it was fireproof and waterproof, making it an excellent choice for conveying secrets. After the massacre of the Nangong Family, this type of paper had become extinct; how could it appear again today?
"Could this blood letter have been left by an old friend of my father?" Nangong Shuang murmured to herself. She recalled her father's friends but couldn't remember anyone who went by Feng Yu.
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