A few hours later, at midnight, Merin steps out.

He wears a plain robe he found in the room, one arm wrapped under Cai Wenji’s knees and back, carrying her with ease.

Outside the sliding door, Yueqing waits.

Her expression tightens with anticipation—then loosens in visible relief when she sees Wenji in his arms instead of a corpse or a disaster.

She tries to smile.

It is stiff.

Nervous.

Her gaze flickers over Wenji’s neck, shoulders, and collarbone—marks visible on skin.

Then her eyes shift to Merin, and she notices faint marks where Wenji’s teeth grazed his neck.

Her concern turns theatrical.

Her voice quivers, “Cousin… what did you do?”

Merin stares at her.

Deadpan.

(Didn’t you plan this?)

He chooses not to say it.

Instead, he answers flatly:

“Don’t question. Lead me to her room.”

Yueqing’s gaze wavers—part guilt, part satisfaction that her scheme reached its intended stage.

She nods quickly.

“Okay. Follow me.”

Merin adjusts his grip and walks behind her.

The Pearl House is still lively—even this late.

The scent of warm water and incense drifts through the air as he moves through the corridor.

Whispers rise.

People stare.

Women stop mid-step.

Servants freeze.

Bath patrons elbow each other and mutter.

That’s Lieutenant Duan Merin.

A woman? In his arms?

Is he finally…

Since his rise to fame, his distance from romance and unwillingness to entertain matchmaking rumours have led many to believe he is either impossibly selective or disinterested entirely.

Seeing him carrying a woman—rumpled, unconscious, marked—creates ripples of shock.

Curiosity sharpens; envy flares.

Some recognise the green-robed figure.

Others don’t.

But all whisper.

Merin ignores them.

At the stairs, he passes Shen Ling.

The two men exchange a nod—acknowledgement without warmth.

Shen Ling’s eyes narrow, lingering on the woman’s face.

A flicker of recognition crosses his gaze.

Brief.

Instinctive.

He cannot place it.

But something about her presence scratches at a buried memory.

He watches her until Merin disappears around the turn.

Merin follows Yueqing down the corridor and into a quiet room.

Yueqing opens the door.

Merin steps inside and gently lays Wenji on the bed, pulling the sheets to cover her.

He looks at Yueqing and speaks curtly:

“You can go.”

Yueqing hesitates, glancing at Wenji, then at Merin.

She softens her tone, playing her role, “Cousin… Wenji is tired.”

Merin exhales through his nose—controlled, patient.

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“Get out.”

A beat.

Then Yueqing nods and withdraws.

The door slides shut with a solid thud.

Silence returns.

Merin sits down beside the bed.

He studies Wenji—her face, her breathing, the faint rise and fall of her chest.

She seems peaceful now.

But intent—hers or Yueqing’s—lingers in the air.

And Merin watches, unmoving.

Waiting.

His gaze sharpens as he notices the minute inconsistencies in her facial structure—the way certain contours do not fully harmonise.

He knows this pattern.

Bone Transformation.

Not a crude disguise, not a temporary alteration.

This is the residue left by a technique cultivated to a masterful level.

Only when the technique is perfected do the changes remain even in sleep, when Qi circulation relaxes, and instinct takes over.

A lesser practitioner would revert unconsciously.

She does not.

Merin leans forward and lets two fingers rest lightly against her cheek.

The Virtual Engine stirs.

Silent.

Precise.

Patterns of bone density, muscle tension, skin elasticity, and residual Qi flow—data pours in.

In a fraction of a second, without consuming even a tenth of his Qi, the false structure peels away inside his mind.

A different face forms.

Familiar.

Recognizable.

“Interesting.”

The smirk appears only in his thoughts.

He had been undecided—whether to dismantle this scheme immediately or observe it to its end.

Now, seeing her true face, the decision settles.

He will play along.

Her plan is transparent now.

Marriage.

Pregnancy.

Leverage.

And if she succeeds, he gains as well.

Influence over Yulan City.

Control over Shen Family remnants.

Access to resources, networks, and political leverage far beyond what the Duan Family currently holds.

This is not a trap.

It is an opportunity.

Merin leans back and closes his eyes.

He turns inward.

The five organs pulse softly—heart, lungs, liver, spleen, kidneys—each resonating with its elemental nature.

Fire beats with the heart, fierce and rhythmic.

Metal breathes through the lungs, sharp and disciplined.

Wood coils within the liver, flexible, growing.

Earth anchors the spleen, stable and enduring.

Water flows through the kidneys, deep and silent.

He understands the five elements well—but always as forces outside the body.

Inside, they are subtler.

Not raw power, but balance.

Not dominance, but harmony.

He searches for the common thread.

Circulation.

Each element transforms into another through the body’s processes—fire feeds earth, earth bears metal, metal enriches water, water nourishes wood, wood fuels fire.

The cycle is not linear, but spiralling.

Slowly, he begins weaving them together—not forcefully, but by aligning their rhythms.

The organs respond.

Blood Qi thickens, steadies, then smooths.

As dawn approaches, pale sunlight slips through the window and falls across her face.

Her eyes snap open.

For a moment, there is only raw fear.

She looks around wildly—then her gaze locks onto Merin’s eyes.

Relief flashes first.

Then the calculation.

She jerks upright, pulling the cover to her chest, shrinking back as if startled, as if ashamed.

Merin stands.

“Don’t worry,” he says calmly.

“I will take responsibility for my actions.”

He turns, walks across the room, opens the door, and leaves without another word.

The door closes softly behind him.

He goes to his private room and changes into a set of clothes he kept.

He descends the stairs, exits the Pearl House, and walks toward his estate as the city wakes.

Back in the room, minutes later, Yueqing slips inside.

She finds Diexin sitting rigid on the bed, eyes unfocused, thoughts racing.

Frozen.

Yueqing walks over and sits at the foot of the bed, studying her face carefully.

“I thought you would be happy,” she says lightly, “the first phase of the plan is complete.”

Her voice pulls Diexin back.

“I am,” Diexin answers, a little too quickly.

Yueqing tilts her head. “What did my cousin say when he left?”

Diexin hesitates, then answers truthfully, still dazed.

“He said he would take responsibility.”

Yueqing’s eyes widen.

Then she cheers, jumping up and down without restraint.

“You’ll become my family!”

She stops when she notices Diexin’s expression hasn’t changed.

“What’s wrong?” Yueqing asks. “What’s worrying you?”

Diexin looks up at her.

“Your cousin wasn’t influenced by the aphrodisiac.”

Yueqing freezes.

Her eyes sharpen, and she lowers her voice.

“Then… did you do it or not?”

“We did,” Diexin says. “That’s what confuses me.”

Yueqing exhales slowly, thinking.

“My cousin is still a man. You’re beautiful. He was probably attracted to you and acted on it.”

Diexin nods faintly, then frowns again.

“But then why say he’ll take responsibility? He didn’t need to.”

Yueqing waves a hand dismissively.

“Why are you thinking so much? Isn’t it better this way? We didn’t even need to force him.”

Diexin nods, but unease remains.

“I still feel something is wrong.”

Yueqing sighs and straightens.

“Don’t worry. Maybe he fell in love with you at first sight.”

Diexin finally smiles.

“Be happy,” Yueqing says brightly. “Our plan worked. Now you and I will be family.”

They laugh softly and embrace.

—

Elsewhere, Merin steps into the main house.

Housekeeper Chen approaches him immediately, concern written all over his face.

“Lord, is the news true?”

Merin walks toward his room without slowing.

“What news?”

“That you carried a woman out of a private bathroom.”

Merin nods calmly.

“I was about to tell you. Go and discuss a marriage date with her.”

The housekeeper freezes.

“…What?”

Merin opens the door to his room.

“Why are you shocked? I’m getting married. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“But we know nothing about her,” the housekeeper blurts out.

“I am going to marry her,” Merin says evenly.

He steps inside and closes the door, ending the discussion.

Moments later, he emerges in his uniform.

Housekeeper Chen is no longer outside.

Merin leaves the house, enters the family carriage, and the horses pull forward toward the Divine Guard office.

—

Diexin sits at the table in her room, slowly eating, her movements mechanical rather than hungry.

Yueqing sits opposite her, watching closely, still half-excited, half-unsettled.

A knock sounds at the door.

Yueqing rises immediately.

“I’ll get it.”

She opens the door—

And freezes.

Her breath catches, eyes widening just enough to betray her shock.

From the table, Diexin looks up.

“Yueqing,” she asks casually, “who came?”

Housekeeper Chen’s gaze sharpens the moment he sees Yueqing standing there.

“Yueqing,” he says coolly, “what are you doing here?”

Yueqing swallows.

“I… I’m taking care of Di—Wenji.”

Diexin frowns slightly, playing her part.

“Yueqing, who is it?”

Yueqing steps aside, her voice tight.

“It’s Housekeeper Chen.”

Chen walks in, gently but firmly moving past Yueqing as if she were a curtain rather than a person.

“I am the housekeeper of the Duan Family,” he says, his eyes settling on Diexin.

“My lord sent me to discuss your marriage with him.”

Diexin freezes.

For a heartbeat, her mind goes blank.

Then everything rushes back at once.

It worked.

No resistance.

No delay.

No negotiation.

He did not even summon her—he sent his housekeeper.

Heaven itself seems to be clearing the path before her.

She feels dizzy, not with fear, but with the sheer speed at which she is approaching her goal.

Marriage into the Duan Family.

A child.

Leverage.

Power.

Revenge.

She rises slowly from her seat, forcing calm into her expression as her heart races beneath her ribs.

“Yes,” she says softly.

“Please… sit.”

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