3. Northern Di Prime Minister’s Mansion: Hidden Blade of Lady Yan

Winter in the northern lands was long and desolate, winds and snow blanketing the world in an endless expanse of pale gray.

Deep within the Northern Di Prime Minister's mansion lay a quiet, elegant courtyard, disturbed only by gusts of wind whispering through corridors, rustling crimson curtains. In the pavilion stood an exquisite qin table, where a slender figure sat gracefully, her delicate, pale fingers gently pressing the strings. With a soft pluck, music flowed forth, clear as a murmuring stream, ethereal and distant.

Yan Changxin, the esteemed daughter of Northern Di's Prime Minister, was widely renowned for her unparalleled talents. Skilled in poetry, painting, calligraphy, and music, her very presence added a touch of softness and warmth to the bitter northern winter. Yet those truly acquainted with her noted her unusual quietness—not the playful charm expected of a noble lady, but an indescribable depth and restraint.

Today, the mansion hosted an elaborate banquet. Yan Boyu had invited notable Northern Di nobles, where conversations revolved around border tensions and developments in Great Yan and Southern Man. Yan Changxin, called upon to entertain the guests, began playing "Crossing the Vast Winds". At first, the melody swept lightly like wind over grasslands, cold and melancholic, before turning stark and majestic like lonely smoke rising from distant deserts. Initially dismissed as a noblewoman's idle pastime, several battle-hardened generals gradually frowned, hearing in her notes the echoes of clashing blades and the raw chaos of war.

Abruptly, the music ceased, leaving a resonant silence.

Finally, a noble sighed deeply, "Miss Yan's skill is truly extraordinary. It's almost unbelievable that such iron-blooded spirit can emanate from a lady's fingertips."

Yan Changxin lowered her gaze, faintly smiling. "Music knows no boundaries; the heart shapes the melody."

Guests murmured praise or fell into contemplation, unaware of the deeper meaning hidden within her song.

Her music had never been merely entertainment.

It expressed emotions she could not speak aloud, revealing the concealed sharpness beneath her tranquil exterior.

Throughout the banquet, Yan Boyu appeared highly satisfied. Several noblewomen praised her talent generously, and some even playfully inquired about marriage prospects: "Miss Yan is gifted in both beauty and talent. Now that she's come of age, when might she find her ideal match?"

The guests eagerly awaited an answer, but Yan Boyu merely raised his cup and smiled faintly without replying.

Yan Changxin gently smiled, her voice polite yet distant, "My father has not arranged any marriage, and neither have I thought about it."

Her words carried neither shyness nor expectation, as though the topic held no relevance for her.

Guests speculated privately—some attributing it to her cool temperament, others suspecting she might already have someone in mind. Only Yan Boyu's eyes held a meaningful glint.

As the banquet ended, deep night settled over the mansion. The cold wind blew through, rustling scrolls on her desk. Yan Changxin quietly closed the qin, her fingers brushing the strings unconsciously, producing a lingering, melancholic note.

She closed her eyes briefly, gripping her left arm with her right hand, unconsciously tightening her hold.

In the deepening night, the flickering candlelight cast shadows across her solitary room. She took out an exquisite medicine pouch, lightly tasting a pinch of colorless, tasteless powder. The slight bitterness lingered faintly upon her tongue.

Gradually, her rapid heartbeat slowed, though remnants of anxiety lingered, softly gripping her heart.

Moonlight spread like frost across the endless snowy plains, dyeing the northern world in silver.

Distant pine forests whispered quietly in the wind, tree shadows shifting like silent witnesses. A bright moon hung high, casting ghostly silhouettes of towers and pavilions across the mansion walls, hazy and cold.

Occasional gusts lifted fine snow like silent sighs, drifting in the air.

Northern Di winter nights were so quiet one could hear ice slowly cracking, secrets easily concealed beneath the drifting snow.

Yan Changxin stood by the window, gazing at the vast, silent world outside, her fingers gently tracing the delicate skin of her wrist.

Her eyes were serene and unruffled. Only the silent night mirrored her isolated figure, quietly blending her into the deep tranquility of the winter landscape.

Within the Northern Di Prime Minister's mansion, everything remained unchanged—except for those deep, hidden eyes beneath the moonlight, quiet as a still pond, hiding a sharpened blade.