Chapter Forty-Six: Like a Flower Spirit

When she awoke once more, she could no longer distinguish between time and place; her neck felt somewhat sore, and the air around her was filled with an unfamiliar scent.

Outside the room, there was the faint sound of women weeping—not just one, but perhaps a dozen.

What was happening?

Blood Snow lay quietly on the bed, calmly sorting through her thoughts. She had been kidnapped, likely just as those women outside had been.

“These ones aren’t needed anymore. The master told us to deal with them,” a man’s voice sounded from outside, and the crying diminished, as if the women were frightened.

“What? But the master hasn’t seen them yet.”

“Do you think the master will find the person he’s looking for among these blind women?”

…

After about a quarter of an hour, the crying ceased. The women had been taken away, “dealt with” as they said. But what did “dealt with” mean?

From their conversation, it seemed their master was searching for a blind woman. Was their master Ji Wuqing? Blood Snow’s heart skipped a beat, but she immediately dismissed the thought. It couldn’t be Ji Wuqing—never.

By the small lake in the courtyard, a slender figure stood gracefully. A long, jade-like hand scattered fish feed onto the icy waters, though the cold weather meant only a few fish ventured out. The figure was not frustrated, patiently tossing the feed piece by piece.

“Master, the blind girl has likely awakened. Would you like to see her?” A guard knelt respectfully behind him. Capturing this blind girl had taken considerable effort.

The man ceased feeding the fish, turned, and tossed the box of fish feed into the lake. The fish had exhausted his last ounce of patience.

Besides, he had found something far more interesting to occupy his time.

Inside the room, Blood Snow sat up slightly, reaching upward. As expected, her hand found a fragrant sachet; the scent in the air came from this pouch.

Suddenly, a sound came from the door. Without betraying her alertness, she lay back down and closed her eyes, listening intently.

The door was pushed open, letting in a chill that dispersed some of the warmth.

The first to enter was the slender man, whose eyes were long and slanted, fox-like in their cunning and allure. He looked like a flower spirit—his features both captivating and seductive, exquisitely beautiful.

His steps were measured and light, his black hair flowing down to his thighs, swaying in the air. For a man of seven feet, his hair was at least four feet long, tied back with a white jade hairpiece adorned with golden dragons, falling like a long ribbon.

Approaching the bed, he saw the girl’s breathing was shallow, as if she truly slept.

He gazed at her peaceful face—fair and immaculate, a natural purity that calmed the soul. His slender fingers lightly brushed Blood Snow’s cheek.

Feeling the cold touch of his fingers, Blood Snow could not bear it and opened her eyes, quickly moving away.

“Who are you?” Her voice trembled, as if frightened by him.

“Weren’t you just pretending to sleep? Why stop now?” His tone was gentle, but laced with a sinister softness, like a hunter watching a prey’s futile struggle.

As he spoke, his long fingers gripped her chin tightly, making it pale with pressure.

“What are you saying? Who are you, and why have you taken me? My family will report this…” Blood Snow continued feigning ignorance, cursing her reckless decision to walk into the trap.

One misstep and she could lose everything.

“You should know whose handkerchief this is. Don’t play dumb before me—it isn’t wise.” He held a handkerchief before her, its crisp fragrance unmistakably hers.

“How? What have you done to my mother and the others?” The handkerchief was her clue for her family—how had it ended up in his hands?

“Outsmarting yourself, it seems. Did you think leaving this handkerchief would go unnoticed, letting your plan succeed?” He laughed softly, releasing her chin, leaving a red mark. “Look at this, such a vivid color…”

He reached out to touch her chin again, but with a sharp slap, she knocked his hand away.

“Show some respect!” She sat up, her voice icy and commanding.

She hadn’t expected her ruse to be so easily pierced, and the handkerchief she left for her mother had been taken from her—her family must be in chaos now.

Both the man and the servant outside were stunned. “Insolence!” the servant, Cloud Mist, shouted, surprised that a blind girl could show such spirit.

“Cloud Mist, stand down,” the man said with a faint smile, stopping his attendant.

“You’re quite bold!” He raised her chin, looking into her empty eyes with an enticing voice. “Tell me your name. If you don’t, I’ll be angry.”

“That’s not quite right, sir. A name is just a symbol; besides, if I tell you a false one, how would you ever know?” she replied directly.

“Sharp-tongued. I’ll find out who you are.” He curled his lips, his face as radiant as a flower, his thin lips soft as petals. “But who you are doesn’t matter—what matters is you.”

“You seem to be searching for blind women. What’s so special about me?” She was just a blind girl—why go to such lengths?

“Be careful. If you have nothing special, or fail to show it, your fate will be like the others.” His tone was dangerously gentle. “But for now, you can rest easy—your sharp tongue is already unique.”

What kind of people were these…

“Seems I should feel fortunate, shouldn’t I?” Her expression didn’t change, but her tone was cool, like winter water.

These people were not saints, nor were they monstrous villains, but undoubtedly killers who thought nothing of human life.

If her guess was correct, these people were from a foreign land.

Well then, as the saying goes, “Since you’re here, accept it.” Since she was swept along, she must face it calmly.

She did not go out to investigate, instead enduring solitude with remarkable patience.

The maid assigned to her was deaf; each time Blood Snow needed something, she had to write it down.

“You’ve stayed in this room for days, miss. Perhaps you should get some fresh air,” the little maid encouraged her. “I know you must miss your family, but the young master is kind and won’t mistreat you. Once he learns about your family, he’ll reward you generously.”

Blood Snow knew the maid was ignorant of the truth, thinking the man was the master of the estate and herself fortunate to serve him.

“I know. You needn’t say more,” she wrote on the paper.

These days, she had lived as both blind and mute. The maid couldn’t hear, so Blood Snow could only speak with her pen.

She was restless, worrying about her mother and the others. Would these people trouble them?

In a courtyard full of dazzling flowers, the man stood tall, holding a blooming blossom in his hand. Yet he was more beautiful than any flower.

Not far away, a young maid clung to the wall, gazing at his back with infatuation. She didn’t notice the cold, wicked smile that crept across his lips.

He twirled the red flower in his hand, its stem becoming sharper and more lethal with each spin.

“Who’s there?” Suddenly, he turned, looking toward the maid’s hiding place with a questioning gaze.

“It’s… it’s me, sir… Forgive me, I disturbed you,” the maid stepped out, head bowed, her face flushed with shy longing as she stole glances at him.

Truth be told, she was quite pretty, and her bashful blush stirred the heart.

“You did disturb me, but never mind,” he smiled, his exquisite features making her unable to meet his eyes.

“If you’re annoyed, I’ll leave,” she said coquettishly, her manner somewhat exaggerated.

“No, come closer.” The flower spirit’s voice was gentle, like petals falling softly, drawing her nearer.

The maid approached, unaware of the malice and murderous intent lurking in his eyes, which held only disgust for her infatuation.

Meanwhile, Blood Snow left her room, dismissing her own maid. She seemed to want a walk—or perhaps not.

She couldn’t stay confined any longer; it was pointless.

There were no guards in the courtyard, likely because she was blind and posed no threat.

She wandered, uncertain of her location, let alone what this place was. Yet she sensed the surroundings were beautiful, the owner a lover of luxury, with the air filled with floral fragrance.

Suddenly, she heard voices nearby, as if people were talking. Following the sound, she found the flower spirit standing there. At his feet lay a maid, lifeless.

A breeze stirred, scattering petals from the red flower in the maid’s hair, which fell onto the blood-stained ground, blending floral scent with the tang of blood in the air.

He wore a smile, turning to look at Blood Snow, his expression deepening.

Blood Snow seemed oblivious to the scene. She leaned forward and called, “Is that you over there?” She still didn’t know how to address him.

“Come here. I’m right here.”