135, black jade

In the dimly-lit room, Chen Ji slowly opened his eyes.

The room was dark with doors and windows tightly shut, allowing only the moonlight to filter through the paper windows, casting a hazy light and shadow.

He heard the soft footsteps outside gradually moving away, finally heading downstairs.

Chen Ji, lying flat on the common bed, slowly slipped the short knife back into his sleeve and breathed a sigh of relief: at least those guests with knives weren't there to assassinate them.

No wonder Prince Jing, an old hand in Jianghu, hadn't noticed anything amiss with this inn; no wonder Prince Jing, albeit sick, insisted on making a secret inspection. It turned out everything was for tonight's meeting.

But Chen Ji's heart suddenly tightened again: who was meeting with Prince Jing? What did they want to discuss?

Rebellion!