The tension was high—but that, of course, was part of Yanwei's plan.
He never intended to throw money around like some spoiled heir. No, the illusion of wealth, of influence, of a powerful father pulling strings behind the scenes… that was enough. He didn't need to be untouchable. He just needed people to believe he was.
To Mistress Lan, he presented the image of a man with deep pockets and deeper backing. But the truth was simpler—and far more dangerous: Yanwei didn't act rich because he was, but because it kept people guessing. No one trifled with the unknown.
Yanwei smiled, easy and unhurried. He leaned back slightly, letting the flickering lantern light catch the glint in his eye.
"Of course I can," he said, voice calm yet firm. "You might not be aware yet, but I've been in life-and-death battles far more than you'd think."
He paused, fingers tapping once against the wood.
"Spending money?" he continued, letting out a soft chuckle. "That's not a mental burden anymore—not when you've stared down the kind of choices that leave scars under your skin."
Mistress Lan's gaze sharpened, her teasing smile flickering—just for a moment. Perhaps she saw something more behind that smile. Something harder. Older.
Mistress Lan didn't flinch. Her composure held like lacquered silk—smooth, polished, untouchable. She merely chuckled, the sound soft but edged with interest.
"It seems like you're quite deep," she said, her voice low, almost amused.
Yanwei's smile widened, his tone dipping into something deliberately flirtatious.
"Of course," he said smoothly, eyes gleaming with mischief. "I can even delve deep into you as well… if you'll let me."
The air seemed to shift—warmer, heavier. Rose's cheeks puffed in outrage, but she bit her tongue, arms crossed tighter than before. Mistress Lan, on the other hand, raised a single brow, unfazed. A slow, knowing smirk curved her lips.
"Oh?" she murmured. "Then I suggest you bring more than just silver and smooth words. Depth alone doesn't impress me."
Suddenly, the sharp crack of a palm slamming against wood shattered the moment.
Rose had shot up, eyes blazing as she smacked the table in front of them, the porcelain teacups rattling at the impact. Her small frame trembled—not with fear, but with fury barely contained.
"Don't you dare touch Miss Lan!" she snapped, her voice cutting through the haze like a blade. "She's respected here! Not even the young master of a Rank 5 sect managed to lay a finger on her!"
She jabbed a finger toward Yanwei, her glare unwavering.
"So you better know what you're trying to get yourself into!"
The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint hiss of incense burning down to ash. Mistress Lan didn't speak. She simply watched—calm, unreadable.
Yanwei blinked once, then let out a low chuckle. Not mocking. Not angry. Just… amused.
Mistress Lan turned her head slightly, casting Rose a single warning look—sharp, silent, and enough to still the girl where she stood. Rose bit her lip and slowly sat back down, though her fists remained clenched on her lap.
Yanwei, unbothered as ever, raised both hands slightly in mock surrender. His smile remained, though it had softened just a touch.
"Don't worry," he said casually, eyes flicking to Rose. "I'm not here to lay hands on your Miss."
He leaned back again, crossing one leg over the other with easy confidence.
"I was just joking. No need to take it so seriously."
His voice held no apology—but it wasn't threatening either. Just smooth, light, the kind of tone that made it impossible to tell where the line between truth and play ended.
She exhaled lightly and reached for her teacup once more, swirling the contents with an absent grace.
…
Mistress Lan set her teacup down with a soft click and finally spoke, her voice smooth as ever.
"The information… well, the part I can share," she began, "is this: there's an auction happening. Soon. A few days at best, two weeks at most."
She looked him dead in the eyes.
"The list of items is still under wraps. But the one hosting it is a merchant tied to a major sect from the Skyheart Enclave."
Yanwei's brows lifted, just slightly—but enough for her to notice.
Skyheart Enclave? His thoughts moved quickly. That's supposed to be neutral ground… no major power dares make a mess there. The strongest sect in that region is Rank 7, but they haven't been seen in decades. Something about secrets…
North Continent, if I remember right. So why the hell would they come all the way to this backwater territory?
He didn't let the surprise linger too long on his face. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, feigning calm curiosity.
"Miss," he asked, "do you happen to know what their agenda is over here?"
Mistress Lan smiled.
Not her usual teasing smirk—no, this one was different. Slow. Quiet. Laced with quiet triumph.
"Checkmate," she said softly. "It seems you really are that simple."
She leaned forward just a fraction, the lanternlight catching the faint shimmer in her eyes.
"You even know that territory? How interesting…"
Yanwei's smile froze—not entirely, but just for a flicker of a second.
She caught it.
That was all she needed.
The pause that followed wasn't long, but it felt like something had shifted—just slightly. Enough to remind him that this room, despite its worn elegance and dreamy haze, was her stage. And she was no amateur.
Then, he laughed—quiet and measured, like a man who knew he'd been outplayed but didn't mind the sting.
"Well," Yanwei said, adjusting his sleeve, "I suppose I walked into that one."
He drummed his fingers once on the table, slower now, his gaze sharpening under the lazy curve of his smile.
"But to be fair," he added, his voice calm and edged with mischief, "I never claimed to be a chess player."
He met her gaze fully, letting the words hang before leaning in ever so slightly.
"I'm more the type to flip the board when I get bored."
Mistress Lan laughed, soft and elegant, but with a hum beneath it—like she was already thinking two steps ahead.
"And here I thought you were finally showing a bit of humility," she said, shaking her head.
Yanwei gave a small shrug, the expression still casual, but there was a distinct glint behind his eyes now. The kind that didn't fade with conversation.
"Still," he said, quieter, "you gave that information rather freely. Makes me wonder if someone wants me to show up."
Mistress Lan's expression didn't change. She didn't blink. Didn't flinch.