But Bai Qingqing no longer felt any other kind of fear. The rain had made the stone-paved road slick, and she hadn’t noticed her skirt catch underfoot—she tripped and fell hard. Her palms were torn open by the sharp gravel, and pain shot from her knees like fire.

She struggled to get up, but a force grabbed her arm and hoisted her to her feet.

Raindrops beaded on her face, tracing cold lines down her cheeks. Tiny droplets clung to her lashes as she opened her eyes wide and saw who stood before her.

Without thinking, Bai Qingqing grabbed Ning Yan’s sleeve, her voice shaking with desperation and tears.

“Please—please save my father and my brother, Lord Ning, I beg you…”

Pride meant nothing now. She only wanted her father and Bai Rui to be safe.

Ning Yan looked down at her bloodstained hand, his sleeve now tinged with red. He took off the bamboo hat from his own head and placed it gently on hers. Then he whistled—a sharp, clear note—and a fine horse came galloping through the rain.

“Find Ning Zhao.”

He lifted a hand and brushed away the tears—or was it rain?—on Bai Qingqing’s face, then swung onto the horse and disappeared into the rain.

Only then did Bai Qingqing snap back to herself. She hadn’t told him where to go. Did he… already know?

But now wasn’t the time to think. She turned and rushed to the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s post, where she found Ning Zhao. When he learned she had been sent by Ning Yan, he wasted no time gathering his men and vanished into the downpour.

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Watching them leave, Bai Qingqing’s body gave out beneath her. She slid to the ground, spent. When Bai Yan found her, he was so startled he rushed over, wrapping her in his cloak and lifting her into his arms.

“Brother… Father and Ah Rui will be okay, won’t they?”

Bai Yan looked down at his fragile, helpless sister and swallowed hard.

“They will be. Everything will be okay.”

As the eldest son of the Bai family, he should have been the one shielding his sister—not the one making her worry. Back when Qingqing came to him with talk of that dream, he’d laughed it off as absurd. Now, the only one laughable was himself.

If he’d had even a bit more ability, no one would have dared target the Bai family. He needed to be stronger. He would be stronger.

Bai Yan tightened his arms around her.

“Big Brother swears… this won’t happen again. I promise you…”

…

The locust grove beyond the city walls was a favorite spring outing spot for Xuancheng’s people. Come April and May, the trees bloomed with strings of butterfly-shaped white flowers, delicate as jade, their soft fragrance wafting gently through the air.

Even after the blossoms had fallen, the thick shade made it a perfect retreat from the summer heat. But the elders of Xuancheng would often murmur that “locust” was written with “wood” and “ghost”—a tree heavy with yin energy. Even if one came here to play, they said, best to leave before sunset.

It was one of those things people would rather believe than dismiss. So by dusk, the grove always stood empty. No ordinary folk would venture there.

Bai Jinghuai dismounted at the edge of the grove, broadsword in hand, and stepped forward warily.

The only sounds were the chirr of insects and the calls of birds. He stopped in one spot and shouted Bai Rui’s name, only to send a few startled birds flapping into the dark canopy above.

The forest, heavy and shadowed, whispered as the wind passed through, like countless hidden feet shuffling through leaves. Bai Jinghuai’s grip on his sword tightened. He moved deeper, calling out as he went.

“I’m here already! Show yourselves!”

Suddenly, he heard a muffled “mm-mm” sound. Instinct kicked in—he dodged. A sharp gleam sliced past him and slammed into the ground.

He stepped back two paces—and there lay Bai Rui, gagged and bound, thrashing against his restraints. His muffled cries grew sharper, more frantic, as though urging him to leave now, before it was too late.