The night air was faintly cool. Deep within Shuyu Pavilion, outside the “Juyue Courtyard,” a plain white paper lantern hung quietly above the round moon gate.
“His Highness really does have incredible means! I heard Young General Li paid out a fortune and made the reservation more than half a month in advance just for tonight. Yet the moment His Highness made a move, he didn’t even dare say a word before giving up the spot.”
“Exactly. I heard Young General Li suddenly started vomiting and having diarrhea yesterday and couldn’t even get out of bed.”
“How come I heard it was because his father discovered he’d spent military pay on male courtesans, so he hung him in the ancestral hall and beat one of his legs half to death? Hahaha!”
Among the young scions who had been invited tonight, some had come because they wanted to meet the legendary male courtesan, Lord Yuexi, and see his famed beauty for themselves.
Others had come to curry favor with Prince Yi, because becoming one of Prince Yi’s companions meant being invited to places they normally would never have access to.
But some were already regular patrons here. They had not come merely to see a top-tier male courtesan. Prince Yi’s breathtaking appearance was equally alluring to them.
Amid the flattering laughter of several young dandies from the capital, Xiao Ying casually crossed through the moon gate bearing the characters “Juyue,” lightly waving an exquisitely carved ivory folding fan in his hand.
A carefree, roguish smile curved his lips, and he accepted all the praise directed at him without reservation.
This was exactly what he wanted.
By tomorrow morning, the absurd story of the dignified Prince of Da Sheng throwing his weight around and snatching a reservation for the sake of a male courtesan would be spreading throughout every street and alley of the capital.
The more outrageous it sounded, the less anyone would bother investigating what thoughts were actually hidden beneath this handsome exterior.
Even any unusual actions he took in the future would simply be regarded as the antics of a reckless playboy, entirely reasonable under the circumstances.
After passing through a corridor paved with white pebbles and moss, the low bamboo on either side completely cut off the noise from outside.
The group was led by attendants to the Moon-Viewing Terrace.
It was a space designed with an extreme emphasis on “distance.”
The terrace was furnished with low black lacquer couches inlaid with mother-of-pearl and small armrests, while the lighting was dim.
Directly before them, separated by an artificial stream roughly four feet wide, its surface glittering with ripples, and an artificial pond, stood the “Falling Moon Stage,” seemingly floating above the water.
The stage was paved with polished black stone slabs, like the night sky.
Bright lights surrounded it, illuminating the stage over the water as brightly as daylight.
The pond was filled with purple water lilies.
One side dark, the other bright, separated by only a strip of water—the arrangement made an unmistakable distinction between the “spectators” and the “spectacle.”
Shuyu Pavilion never stopped its guests from throwing money around. It simply restricted what “silver” could buy firmly to this side of the stream.
Everyone took their seats, and fine wine flowed like water.
Xiao Ying reclined against the couch, gently waving his folding fan while raising his wine cup to his lips with his other hand.
“Clang—”
A crisp, cold note from a guqin suddenly rang out from the half-hidden pavilion behind the stage, cutting through the murmuring conversations below.
Everyone immediately fell silent and held their breath, gazing forward.
Through the half-raised curtains, a figure could vaguely be seen sitting before a zither stand.
The man’s head was slightly lowered. A silver cluster hairpin shaped like bellflowers swayed gently at the left side of his hairline, allowing a strand of silver hair to slip loose and rest quietly against his pale ear.
He did not raise a hand to brush it away. He simply remained focused on tuning the strings.
Then the musicians hidden in the shadows began to play, and the leisurely sounds of strings and wind instruments filled the air.
The pearl curtain surrounding the Falling Moon Stage was lifted from both sides by the attendants, and a slender figure slowly stepped into the light.
Everyone held their breath.
The man wore neither shoes nor socks, his bare feet stepping onto the polished black stone.
A fine chain of pure silver was wrapped around his fair left ankle, a small silver bell attached to it. With every unhurried step, it produced a soft, crystalline chime.
The sound of the bell was faint and intermittent, delicate and fragmented, as though the slightest carelessness would allow it to dissolve into the night breeze.
This was Lord Yuexi.
He wore an exquisitely tailored outfit.
A close-fitting layer of plain moon-white satin was covered by a light gauze robe in wisteria purple with subtle dark patterns. Over that was a translucent white gauze outer garment, its front slightly open, exposing a section of his luminous neck.
Only after he stepped into the light did the bellflower patterns secretly embroidered in silver thread across the white gauze emerge faintly, like ripples across water.
A broad wisteria-purple sash accentuated his slender, elongated figure. He wore no jade pendant, no scented sachet, and no other unnecessary ornaments.
Clean and otherworldly.
The hem gradually faded from moon-white into pale purple. Its open-front design revealed his cool-white calves as he moved, while the trailing back hem swept along the floor like drifting clouds dragging the moon behind them.
His skin was whiter than snow, as though he had never known sunlight.
His features were exquisite, with vermilion lips and pearly teeth, yet there was an aloof coldness about him that seemed almost inhuman. There was not the slightest trace of the ingratiating smile or flattery expected in a pleasure house.
Most captivating of all were those eyes, cold as frost.
He calmly looked at the patrons across the stream, as though he were not an object purchased for their viewing pleasure, but an immortal banished from the moon, looking down upon the mortal world.
It was said that Lord Yuexi never easily smiled at anyone, as cold and pristine as jade.
Even when faced with people willing to spend fortunes on him, he would merely offer an occasional polite, indifferent smile.
Yet the more he behaved this way, the more those lofty and powerful men wanted to force him to submit.
What was especially breathtaking was his thick, unbound hair, dark as the night, falling all the way to his calves.
Whenever he turned in his dance, his hair reflected a faint layer of silver light, like strands of silk spun from moonlight.
As the music quickened, Lord Yuexi slipped a folding fan from his sleeve.
Its ribs were made of extremely thin silver, while the fan itself was crafted from moon-white cicada-wing gauze. There were no words or paintings upon it. Only when the stage lights passed through the gauze did an extremely faint pattern appear.
He used the fan as brush and sword, dancing gracefully across the Falling Moon Stage.
The fan seemed like a second body in his hands, conveying his cool and distant emotions to perfection.
His movements were restrained and subtle. His long hair spread behind him like ink splashed across paper, then gathered like a galaxy whenever he stood still.
His sleeves fluttered as he danced, graceful as a startled swan. His reflection shimmered on the water, beautiful like a dream that might awaken at any moment.
The silver bellflower hairpins on either side of his head trembled delicately, their soft movements intertwining with the silver bells around his ankle to form a wordless, cold-toned melody.
Everyone stared without blinking, captivated by a beauty that seemed not to belong to the mortal world.
Yet during the turns and rotations of his dance, Lord Yuexi’s calm eyes were secretly studying the people across the water.
He had heard of Prince Yi Xiao Ying’s notorious reputation as a wastrel. He had assumed the man would be like the other powerful nobles, practically glueing greedy eyes to his body.
Unexpectedly, however, the prince seated directly in the center, dressed in an extravagant purple robe, barely looked at him.
Xiao Ying merely lounged there lazily, occasionally glancing toward the stage. Most of the time, he was peeling grapes, drinking wine, joking with those around him, or playing with the ornate ivory fan in his hand.
It was as though the peerless dance before him, something money could barely buy, was less interesting than the wine in his cup.
He appeared careless, even somewhat absurd.
Yet for some inexplicable reason, Lord Yuexi felt that this man was not actually failing to watch.
He simply was not allowing anyone to notice that he was watching.
Lord Yuexi lowered his lashes, a trace of coldness passing through his heart.
He had not the slightest favorable impression of these lofty and powerful nobles.
If anything… he hated them.
But he did not care who this particular man was. Anyone with enough ability to reach him was someone he did not mind putting through a “trial.”
For the sake of his goal, he could conceal everything.
“Clack!”
As the musicians played their final note, Lord Yuexi’s slender fingers closed the fan.
The crisp, decisive snap of the fan severed all remaining echoes of the music.
He stood quietly on the stage, breathing slightly faster, his expression still as cold as frost.
The dance ended, and attendants carried a guqin onto the stage.
Lord Yuexi quietly sat down and began playing, leaving the guests time to socialize and show off for the evening.
Xiao Ying reclined lazily on the couch, gently waving his ivory fan and drinking several more cups.
A faint flush had risen across his originally pale face. His peach-blossom eyes were slightly narrowed, carrying the alluring haze of mild drunkenness.
Most of those invited tonight were sons of powerful nobles and wealthy merchants from the capital. After several cups of wine, the conversation gradually loosened, and someone naturally brought up the matter of Prince Su recovering lost territory yet refusing to advance.
Xiao Ying smiled lightly and swirled the wine in his cup.
“Everyone outside thinks Seventh Brother will proceed step by step and crush straight through from the front.”
He deliberately lowered his voice as he smiled at the young dandies beside him.
“But that man of his… when has he ever truly followed the path other people expect?”
Several of them froze before hurriedly leaning closer.
“What do you mean by that, Your Highness?”
Xiao Ying seemed to have let something slip while drunk. His fingertips lightly tapped the rim of his cup.
“I went to the palace a few days ago. I happened to hear that… Baishui Pass has been a little unsettled lately.”
The young men around him sucked in their breaths, exchanging glances.
“Baishui Pass? Could Prince Su be planning to… strike directly at the heart of the enemy?”
“Shh.”
Xiao Ying raised a finger to his lips and laughed drunkenly.
“I didn’t say anything.”
The corner of his eye swept across their various expressions.
He wanted to know who would pass this “secret” along this time—and who would be unable to restrain themselves.
Amid the exchanging of cups and toasts, three musical pieces had ended.
Everyone was still savoring Lord Yuexi’s extraordinary musicianship.
At this moment, an attendant approached carrying the Four Treasures of the Study.
According to Juyue Courtyard’s rules, the final stage was “composing poetry.”
To see Lord Yuexi, one had to listen to three pieces.
To cross the water bridge, one had to answer a poem.
Only after composing a verse that satisfied him could one step onto the Falling Moon Stage and meet him at close range.
Over the past year, countless high officials and nobles had failed before the stream, yet this only made challengers even more eager to try.
Lord Yuexi picked up a fine brush and wrote a couplet on white silk with flowing strokes.
The attendant placed the silk on a tray, crossed the floating bridge beside the water, and respectfully presented it to Xiao Ying.
Everyone crowded forward to take a look, and their expressions immediately changed.
Written boldly across the silk were:
“The silk fan turns idly, veiling drunken eyes;
Feiying, however fair, still falls into the dust.”
The wording was elegant, but anyone familiar with poetry could immediately see that it was an unmistakable mockery.
“Ying” referred to rain and snow falling together—the exact character in Xiao Ying’s name.
On the surface, the poem described a scene, but beneath it was a pointed insult: Prince Yi was nothing more than an empty façade, a speck of vulgar dust fallen into the mire.
“What audacity! How dare a mere male courtesan disrespect His Highness!”
One of the young men immediately slammed his hand onto the table and stood.
“Stand down.”
Xiao Ying did not become angry. Instead, he let out a low laugh.
He had originally thought “Lord Yuexi” was merely an expensive product packaged by Shuyu Pavilion through layer upon layer of rules.
But now…
This was somewhat interesting.
This was not merely provocation.
It was a form of probing, like searching for a needle in the vast Eastern Sea.
He casually placed his ivory folding fan on the small table and accepted the writing brush handed to him by the attendant.
Without thinking much, without even bothering to straighten his posture, he swept his brush wildly across the lower half of the silk in cursive strokes.
When he finished, he tossed down the brush and gestured for the attendant to return it.
Lord Yuexi stood on the Falling Moon Stage and watched as the attendant carried the silk back.
He had expected furious insults, or perhaps some sour poem written merely to show off literary refinement.
But when he saw the forceful, almost arrogant strokes of the writing, the fingers hidden within his wide sleeve clenched instantly.
Xiao Ying had written:
“Even dust can bear the jade dew;
When the clouds of Wu break, old scars appear.”
Wu Mountain.
Old scars.
Those few short words struck Lord Yuexi’s mind like a bolt of thunder.
Others would merely think it was a parallel couplet describing scenery.
To him, however, they were like a knife peeling flesh from bone.
“Wu”…
That was the surname he had lost three years ago, before he was sold into Shuyu Pavilion.
“Old scars”…
It seemed to be hinting at something from the past.
Was this merely a coincidence?
Or did this man really know something?
Or perhaps…
Was it a trap?
Lord Yuexi slowly raised his head.
Across the stream and the dim lights, he looked directly at Xiao Ying for the first time.
Xiao Ying remained in his lazy seated posture, a half-smiling curve at his lips, looking back at him from across the water.
Beneath those seemingly intoxicated peach-blossom eyes lay an unfathomably deep cold pool.
If this man really was nothing more than the wastrel described in the rumors, then so be it.
But if he wasn’t…
If he wanted to find out, there was only one way.
He had to take the first step himself.
Lord Yuexi’s heart pounded in his chest.
He drew a deep breath, suppressed every emotion in his eyes, and made his decision.
A moment later, under the astonished gazes of everyone present, he slowly raised a hand and gestured to the guards and attendants on either side.
“Open the water bridge.”
Lord Yuexi’s voice was cold, yet unmistakably clear.
“Your Highness, please come onto the stage.”
The entire courtyard fell silent for a moment.
The young noblemen from the capital stared wide-eyed, unable to believe that the rule no one had managed to break in an entire year had been shattered by two casually scribbled lines of poetry from Xiao Ying.
Xiao Ying gave a low laugh and stood.
He picked up his luxurious ivory fan and, amid the envious gazes of everyone present, stepped onto the floating bridge.
One step.
Two steps.
At last, he stepped onto the Falling Moon Stage, the place that symbolized something that could be seen but never reached.
The two stood facing each other, their reflections mirrored in the water like an illusory moon beneath the surface.
Lord Yuexi remained where he was, looking slightly upward at the prince, who was half a head taller than him.
Even though turbulent waves were already crashing through his heart, his expression remained cold and proud, neither servile nor overbearing.
Xiao Ying walked up to him without the slightest gentleness toward beauty.
He raised the cold ivory folding fan in his hand and pressed it against Lord Yuexi’s exquisite chin. With an unmistakably commanding force, he tilted it slightly upward.
Their faces were only inches apart.
Xiao Ying looked down at that flawless face, his gaze assessing it as though he were examining an expensive weapon or commodity.
He saw no fear whatsoever in Lord Yuexi’s eyes. Instead, the man met his scrutinizing gaze head-on.
Their eyes collided silently in the air.
One breath.
Two.
Three.
Neither looked away first.
After a moment, the smile at the corner of Xiao Ying’s lips deepened.
His tone was flirtatious.
“Very good. Cold and aloof as an exiled immortal. You don’t disgrace the reputation attached to your name.”
He paused, his peach-blossom eyes curving slightly as he uttered the merciless and arrogant second half:
“Unfortunately, compared with this prince, you’re still a little lacking.”
Lord Yuexi remained silent.
But he heard Xiao Ying close his folding fan and tap it lightly against his palm.
The sound was not loud, yet it was like the striking of a gavel sealing some kind of contract, echoing throughout Juyue Courtyard.
“You. This prince is buying you.”
Everyone below heard those words and was utterly stunned.
Prince Yi had never before purchased the freedom of anyone from a pleasure house.
Yet on his first visit to Shuyu Pavilion, he had actually made such a shocking move.
Lord Yuexi’s expression did not change. Maintaining his cool voice, he asked in a volume only the two of them could hear:
“May I ask what Your Highness is buying—Yuexi’s body, heart, or…”
His gaze sharpened slightly.
“…life?”
Xiao Ying gently opened his folding fan, concealing his lips, and likewise lowered his voice.
“None of the above. If I wanted your life, I wouldn’t need to spend money.”
“As for your heart…”
His gaze shifted slightly.
“I haven’t figured out how much that thing is worth yet.”
Every word was clear.
“What this prince is buying is your ‘usefulness.’ I’m buying the rule that, for the next year, Shuyu Pavilion is not allowed to let you receive any more guests.”
Lord Yuexi’s heart tightened.
He had been sold to Shuyu Pavilion three years ago…
He had waited three whole years.
He had finally endured until he was put up for regular booking, but what kind of “good people” would come to a place like this?
Even Xiao Ying might not necessarily be a good person.
But…
What he wanted had never been to be a good person.
What mattered was being someone who had “use.”
Young General Li had not come tonight.
Even though that man had fallen in love with him at first sight and was willing to do anything for him without regard for the consequences…
Yet—
What he wanted had never been empty sweet words.
Whether Li was truly sick or had been stopped by someone along the way…
At least one thing was now very clear.
The Prince Yi before him could do things Young General Li could not.
Not only did he have money and power, he also seemed to know something about Yuexi’s past, and he appeared to harbor some hidden intention.
If he did not seize an opportunity like this with both hands, there might never be another.
The guardedness in Lord Yuexi’s eyes slowly receded.
Then the corner of his lips suddenly curved into a faint smile.
The smile was like a stone dropped into spring water, breaking through the bone-deep cold surrounding him and suddenly adding a breathtaking liveliness to his beauty.
“Your Highness should think carefully.”
His voice was soft, like a feather brushing across the heart.
“Yuexi is very expensive.”
Xiao Ying watched that fleeting smile, and a trace of appreciation passed through his eyes.
The cold moon reflected in the water before him had finally created vivid ripples.
He had always loved extraordinary beauty in this world. His mood was excellent now, and the smile at his lips became a little more genuine.
“The one thing this prince has never lacked is silver.”
Xiao Ying leisurely closed the ivory fan.
“What I care about is whether the money is worth spending.”
“Then let time prove it.”
Lord Yuexi raised his chin slightly, sharpness and pride shining in his eyes.
“Yuexi is by no means merely a pretty face. The ‘usefulness’ I can offer Your Highness will certainly exceed your expectations.”
“Well said—‘exceed my expectations.’”
Hearing the complete lack of hesitation in his confidence, Xiao Ying’s gaze grew deeper. He smiled with satisfaction.
“Then this prince will wait and see.”
He had originally come to Shuyu Pavilion tonight merely intending to cast out some bait and, while using the ridiculous reputation of fighting over a famous courtesan to expand his social circle, meet more sons of powerful officials.
As for the legendary Lord Yuexi, he had originally thought that at most, he would be nothing more than an exquisite plaything used to conceal his true intentions while also being pleasing to the eye.
He had never expected that, deep within these dark waters filled with hidden currents, he would actually net a rare piece of uncut jade.
The next morning, at daybreak, the news that Prince Yi Xiao Ying had spent a fortune to reserve Shuyu Pavilion’s peerless male courtesan, Lord Yuexi, swept through every street and alley of the capital like a violent wind.
In teahouses and wine shops, people eagerly spread the story of the pleasure-seeking prince fighting over the man Young General Li had set his heart on, painting a vivid picture of Prince Yi’s descent into the world of sensual pleasures.
As for the “secret intelligence about Baishui Pass” hidden within his drunken slip of the tongue, it quietly seeped into every restless corner of the capital alongside the tantalizing gossip about the pleasure district.
◇◆◇◆◇
The first light of morning was just beginning to appear when Xiao Yuan, as usual, arrived at the main room of the West Courtyard, preparing to take Su Muchen with him to the council hall for the morning court meeting.
He pushed open the door.
Su Muchen was already dressed and ready, quietly standing beside the desk with his signature white gauze veil hat on his head.
Hearing footsteps, he turned around and called out calmly:
“Jingyuan, you’re here.”
Xiao Yuan’s footsteps paused almost imperceptibly.
For an instant, he felt that something was wrong.
But when he tried to identify exactly what it was, he couldn’t put his finger on it.
He studied the person before him. Whether it was the voice, tone, or the shape and posture of his body while standing, everything appeared identical to Su Muchen as usual.
Xiao Yuan remained composed and approached without revealing anything.
“Mm. Let’s go.”
Yet just as he passed by the man, Xiao Yuan suddenly raised his hand and decisively swept the white gauze veil aside.
Underneath the veil was unmistakably Mu Li’s face.
In the past, for the sake of caution, Su Muchen would often disguise himself as Mu Li.
But today…
It was genuinely Mu Li.
“Your Highness, please forgive me.”
Having been exposed, Mu Li immediately dropped to one knee and apologized.
At that moment, a soft laugh came from behind the screen in the inner room.
Now that the secret had been exposed, the real Su Muchen leisurely emerged from his hiding place.
“Don’t blame him. I was the one who asked him to test whether he could fool you.”
There was curiosity and confusion in Su Muchen’s eyes.
“He still got caught. I thought he did a pretty good imitation. How did you recognize him?”
“When he called me by my courtesy name, it was different from usual.”
Xiao Yuan turned toward him, his tone calm and certain.
“Other than that, there wasn’t much of a flaw.”
Su Muchen frowned slightly, still somewhat puzzled.
Over the past few days, he had personally trained Mu Li in his pronunciation and enunciation. He was convinced there was no difference at all and genuinely couldn’t hear what had been different about that one “Jingyuan.”
But if Xiao Yuan said there was a difference, then there was.
“In that case, Mu Li, you’ll have to work harder,” Su Muchen said.
Mu Li immediately replied, “This subordinate will certainly not disappoint Military Adviser Su.”
But inwardly, Mu Li thought:
Fooling Prince Su really is too difficult…
Xiao Yuan offered no further explanation. Instead, he carefully examined the Su Muchen standing before him.
Today, Su Muchen no longer needed to disguise himself as Mu Li.
He had changed into a gray-blue medical orderly’s uniform and was also wearing a specially made wig, completely altering his original hairstyle and appearance.
Su Muchen now looked almost indistinguishable from a native of Da Sheng, except that his bearing still carried an unmistakable difference, and when he opened his mouth, he was prone to accidentally blurting out words that did not exist here.
Chi Banyue and Xia Lanshi had repeatedly warned Su Muchen that unless absolutely necessary, he should simply not speak.
Xiao Yuan felt that compared with the simple clothing of the modern world, Su Muchen looked more fitting in Da Sheng clothing, with long hair.
Even when disguised as a medical orderly.
But the thought that starting today Su Muchen would appear in this form before more and more people made him uneasy.
Especially in a military camp full of men.
Noticing Xiao Yuan’s scrutinizing gaze, Su Muchen deliberately spun around once where he stood and asked teasingly:
“Well? Starting today, I’m ‘Shen An,’ the little sidekick who follows Military Adviser Su around.”
He had spent half the morning struggling to put the wig on properly. Then he discovered that with longer hair, not only was it more troublesome to comb, it was also harder to tie up.
In the end, Mu Li had been the one to tie it for him.
Xiao Yuan pondered for a moment before his gaze finally settled on Su Muchen’s overly clean and delicate face.
“Your face is too clean.”
That was Xiao Yuan’s assessment.
He immediately turned to Mu Li and instructed, “Put something on his face.”
Mu Li acknowledged the order and stood up, taking out a specially made pigment.
He dipped a fine brush into a little of it and skillfully dotted a scattering of freckles across the bridge of Su Muchen’s nose and both cheeks.
“One application of this pigment lasts about five days.”
Mu Li put away the brush as he explained.
“After five days, the color will gradually fade. It will need to be reapplied then.”
Su Muchen turned to look at the bronze mirror.
With the freckles masking his features, the focus of his original facial structure was slightly blurred. He really did look more and more like an ordinary, unremarkable medical orderly who spent his days rushing around a military camp.
“Your voice needs to change too.”
Xiao Yuan watched from the side and reminded him.
“That was prepared in advance.”
Su Muchen took a small wooden box from his sleeve and gently opened it. Inside were neatly arranged rows of small black pills.
“Banyue gave me a box of ‘Voice-Sinking Pills.’ She said they’ll make my voice lower and slightly hoarser, so it’ll sound different from my natural voice. I can only take one a day, and each dose lasts about four shichen.”
Out of curiosity, Su Muchen had once pressed Chi Banyue about what medicinal ingredients were used to make them.
But the commander of the Secret Guard Battalion had merely smiled sweetly and casually said, “A secret formula of the Secret Guard Battalion,” before refusing to reveal another word.
Xiao Yuan glanced at the wooden box and nodded.
“Take one if you need it.”
The time for the morning council was approaching.
Today was Mu Li’s first official day attending the council hall as “Military Adviser Su.” Su Muchen could not personally accompany him to confirm that everything went smoothly, but the night before, he had meticulously handed Mu Li all the military matters that needed to be reported, along with every detail of how they should be handled.
After watching Xiao Yuan leave the West Courtyard alongside the fake Su Muchen wearing the white gauze veil hat, Su Muchen leisurely walked out of the courtyard himself.
He intended to head to the study in the Main Courtyard and begin his behind-the-scenes work for the day.
The moment he stepped across the courtyard threshold, Quanyi Yi, the personal guard commandant who had been waiting outside, silently followed him.
He stayed at Su Muchen’s side without taking a single step away.
Although the rear compound of this administrative residence was already an extremely safe place compared with the outside, in the Northern Border, where every step had to be taken with caution, even the slightest negligence could become a fatal flaw.
As the guard responsible for Military Adviser Su’s safety, he did not dare slacken for even a moment.