Three years ago, the entire Shen family was executed.
Shen Yuan's right hand was crushed, and she was thrown into a mass grave.
Three years later, she crawled out of her coffin, maggots crawling all over her.
She held a dagger in her left hand. Her ruined right hand hung limp at her side, and tucked against her chest was a bloodstained ledger.
The ledger held all the evidence of Prince Jiang's buying and selling of official posts.
It also held her father's blood, her younger brother's brains, and the laughing face of the man on the execution platform.
The man she wanted to kill was named Zhou Shi'an.
He had chosen her card and booked the private room.
The bloodstain on the bed curtain belonged to the girl before her. She had hanged herself from the rafters.
Shen Yuan had cut her down herself.
But she was not alone.
Pei Yanzhi, the man who broke three ribs saving her, had his tendons severed, and carved “Stay alive” into the wall with his left hand, had sent her a letter.
The wax seal bore four apricot blossoms. She did not open it.
Pei Yanzhen, the man with three scars at the corner of his eye, who tapped his sword hilt and said, “I can't die while Big Brother is still alive,” walked with her into the alley.
Liu Ruyan, the woman who swallowed thirteen secret letters, endured thirteen cuts, and wore a veil to hide her disfigured face, helped her sharpen her blade.
Chuncao, the maid who had lost three fingers and said, “Next time, I'll block it with my arm,” poured her scalding tea.
Three hundred elite soldiers were hidden in the alley.
She was waiting for midnight.
Waiting for the sound of a blade sinking into flesh.
She opened the ledger. She had scratched through the three characters “Zhou Shi'an” with her fingernail.
She licked the rust from her blade.
“Tonight, your throat will drink it dry.”
The apricot blossoms had not bloomed.
But tonight, someone was going to die.
Good writing, looking forward to it