Days passed.
The estate's rhythm resumed, but the pulse beneath it had changed. Tension hummed through the halls. Guards doubled their patrols. Servants kept their heads lower. And Lady Zhao Min, though unharmed, now moved with a quiet caution in her step.
They still hadn't uncovered the truth. The assassin's body was discovered, yes—but no one knew who had stopped him. Or why.
And Shen Lan?
He returned to silence.
There was no reward for his act, no praise, no whispers of gratitude. Just how he liked it.
He spent his days cleaning, fetching, listening. Always listening. Not for gossip, but for weakness. For patterns. For truths hidden in casual words.
And one truth, in particular, began to rise: the Zhao family was not united.
Within the noble blood ran cracks.
Zhao Wu, the family's acting head, was a man of fading strength and cautious smiles. The illness eating away at him had softened his voice but sharpened his suspicions. He had no children of his own, and no love for his niece, Zhao Min.
She was a burden. A reminder of her father's stronger bloodline. The old man hadn't attempted to kill her himself—but if someone else did, he wouldn't weep.
And if he did? It would be for show.
Shen Lan saw it in the way he looked at her—like weighing a stone, not embracing family.
That night, while the estate slept, Shen Lan sat alone again. Same spot. Same fog.
But this time, a presence stirred nearby.
"You always sit here."
The voice was soft. Young. Curious.
Shen Lan didn't look up. "And you always watch."
A girl stepped into view. Slim, dark-eyed, hair tied back in a loose knot. She wore plain gray, the mark of a servant girl. Her gaze was neither shy nor bold—simply… aware.
"You're the stable boy," she said. "But you don't smell like horses."
Shen Lan finally turned his head, just enough to see her. "And you're the quiet maid. But you don't walk like one."
A pause. Then a faint smile.
"My name is Lin Xue."
"Shen Lan."
She sat beside him. Said nothing more. Just stared into the fog.
They shared a long silence, broken only by the distant chirp of a night insect.
Then, softly:
"They think you're no one," she said.
"That's their first mistake," he replied.
From that night on, Shen Lan was no longer a shadow in the corner.
He was two shadows.