The Duke

On the third day, I woke with unease knotting my stomach. Memories of the relentless training under Ruan Yanjun's unyielding gaze made me brace for another punishing session. Yet, to my surprise, a servant arrived instead, bowing low to inform me that I was to prepare myself to accompany Lord Ruan elsewhere.

The carriage ride was silent save for the rhythmic creak of the wheels. My attempts to decipher Ruan Yanjun's intentions were met with his usual calm indifference. We arrived at the duke's mansion, an imposing structure with ornate designs that spoke of wealth and influence.

Inside, the duke greeted us with a polite yet lingering gaze directed at me. His scrutiny sent a ripple of discomfort through me. My vision wasn't sharp enough to discern whether his expression held disdain or admiration, but either possibility was unsettling.

Ruan Yanjun must have noticed. He shifted his chair closer to mine, the subtle scrape of wood on marble drawing the duke's attention. A pointed clearing of his throat followed, a sound that carried the weight of a warning. The duke's gaze quickly averted, and he began conversing with Ruan Yanjun about matters of politics.

Their discussion wove a narrative of intrigue and power struggles. The emperor of Kan had begun losing the loyalty of his court following rumors implicating him in the assassination of his predecessor. The crown prince, suspected of spreading these rumors, was gaining traction among the noble houses.

As I listened, a strange excitement stirred within me. At the temple where I was raised, such worldly matters were deemed unworthy of our focus, yet here they unfolded with a complexity that fascinated me. I began to see the secular world as a battlefield where wealth, connections, and power determined survival. The poor were mere pawns, collateral damage in the ambitions of the elite.

A sudden knock interrupted the conversation. A guard informed Ruan Yanjun that a letter had arrived, its courier insisting it be delivered directly to him. Ruan Yanjun's brow furrowed. "No one should know I am here," he muttered before excusing himself.

As soon as he left, the duke leaned closer, his demeanor shifting. "You are quite remarkable," he said, offering me a glass of wine. His voice carried a smooth, almost honeyed quality.

"Thank you," I replied cautiously, accepting the wine but not drinking.

The duke's gaze softened, his tone growing conspiratorial. "Lord Ruan is a fearsome man, is he not? His influence extends across empires, his name whispered in fear. Did you know he holds the South and Central Emperors as little more than his puppets?"

I stiffened. These were not details Ruan Yanjun had ever shared with me, but hearing them painted a clearer picture of his near-untouchable status.

The duke's voice dipped lower. "I've also heard whispers about how he treats you. If it's true, you have my deepest sympathy."

His words set my thoughts spinning. Was this sympathy genuine, or a ploy to drive a wedge between Ruan Yanjun and me?

"Forgive my boldness," the duke continued, "but I cannot bear to see someone as beautiful and pure as you wasted in his hands. Stay here, and I promise to treat you with the dignity and care you deserve. Whatever you desire, I will provide it."

I arched a brow, keeping my voice steady. "Are you not afraid of what he might do if he learns of this offer?"

"He will not take you by force if you choose to stay willingly," the duke replied with a knowing smile. "His pride would never allow him to admit he cares enough to fight for you. He'd feign disinterest and move on, as though you were merely a passing fancy."

Could that be true? Could Ruan Yanjun discard me so easily?

"I only wish to save you from him," the duke pressed. "His treatment of you has been... damaging. He flaunts you, tarnishing your reputation. Surely you deserve better."

I set the untouched glass down and met his gaze. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't need rescuing. Whatever misunderstandings surround my relationship with Lord Ruan, I know the truth, and that's enough for me."

His expression faltered, but he reached out, his hand brushing mine—just as the door opened.

Ruan Yanjun strode in, his presence dominating the room. His eyes flicked between us, sharp and unyielding. "So this is why you lured me away," he said coolly, taking his seat beside me. "To steal what belongs to me."

The duke recoiled, shaking his head. "No, my lord. That was not my intention. I admit I am drawn to the gentleman's beauty, but my offer was one of genuine care. He seemed pale and weary, and I merely wished to provide him with a place to rest."

Ruan Yanjun's lips curved into a smirk that did not reach his eyes. "And you think I cannot provide that for him?"

"Of course you can," the duke said hastily. "There is nothing Lord Ruan cannot provide."

Ruan Yanjun leaned back, his smirk hardening into something sharper. "I don't consider you an enemy, Yuheng, but if you try to take what is mine, I assure you, this mansion you cherish so dearly will be reduced to ash."

The duke paled, stammering his apologies.

Without another word, Ruan Yanjun seized my hand, pulling me to my feet. "We're leaving."

I cast one last glance at the duke, whose expression teetered between regret and fear, before following Ruan Yanjun out.

The ride back to the sect was suffocating, not from the cramped space or the chill of the evening air, but from the weight of Ruan Yanjun's presence beside me. He sat with an air of displeasure, his usual calm shadowed by something darker.

I stared out of the carriage window, the passing scenery a blur as I replayed the events at the duke's mansion.

"What are you thinking?" His voice broke the silence, low and probing.

I hesitated, not wanting to entertain his question.

"Are you considering his proposal?" he pressed, his tone sharper this time.

I sighed but kept my eyes fixed on the horizon, unwilling to engage.

He didn't take kindly to my silence. "What do you think of him?" he asked, his words laced with a mockery that only Ruan Yanjun could wield so effortlessly. "Do you believe he'd make a better host than I am?"

Host. The word grated against my nerves. I finally turned to him, my voice calm yet pointed. "Lord Ruan, I think you're both disgusting. Fighting over nonsense. And over a man, no less."

His smirk returned, wolfish and amused. "A-Fan, you're the only one to blame for that. If you weren't so beautiful, no one would be fighting over you."

I clenched my fists in my lap, forcing myself to remain composed. "Lord Ruan, I am a man with dignity. I am not some toy for men like you to pass around as you please."

His gaze flickered, amusement giving way to something colder, more calculating. "A toy? No, A-Fan. That's not the word I would use to describe you." He leaned closer, the carriage jolting slightly as his weight shifted. "I prefer to call you an asset."

His words stung, not because they were unexpected, but because they carried a kernel of truth I'd rather not confront.

I let out a weary sigh, turning away from him. "Lord Ruan, I don't want to argue. I'm sure I would lose anyway."

Silence settled between us once more, but his gaze lingered, heavy and unreadable.

It was only later that I began to piece together his motives. The pattern had been there all along, if only I had chosen to see it. Ruan Yanjun's calculated introductions to figures of power, the discussions he ensured I overheard, the way he encouraged me to grasp the nuances of political maneuvering—it wasn't random.

Every encounter, every conversation I was drawn into, had been part of a larger scheme. He wasn't just flaunting me or using me as a pawn. He was grooming me.

For what?

The answer loomed before me, both exhilarating and terrifying. He was preparing me to ascend to power, to become an emperor in my own right.

I cast a glance his way, his profile stark against the moonlight filtering through the carriage window. The enigmatic curve of his lips suggested he already knew the questions swirling in my mind.