Beneath the Moonlight, Lies and Love

Under the silver moonlight, Du Xiaoyan stood quietly before the flower garden of the secluded courtyard. Blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, releasing a faint, sweet fragrance into the night.

Wind chimes at the window played a soft, crystalline melody, and the dancing candlelight behind the paper windows painted lively shadows across the walls. Behind the girl, the elegant courtyard pavilion shimmered with quiet charm, like something out of a dream.

She lifted her face toward the moon. Under its glow, her delicate figure seemed even more slender, casting a graceful silhouette on the ground. Her hands were clasped in front of her, long silk ribbons fluttering around her pale arms, and the soft blue hem of her dress rippled in the breeze.

Her hair flowed like a black waterfall; she was beauty incarnate, outshining even the blooming flowers.

A sigh slipped from her lips. Her bright eyes shimmered, clouded slightly with worry, and a faint crease appeared between her brows.

Her brows knitted in thought, her head bowed gently, casting her round chin into the shadows. Her lovely face, delicate as a painting, seemed veiled in mystery and melancholy.

"Why hasn't he come yet?" she murmured. "Doesn't he know how long I've been waiting?"

She thought of that young man's warm eyes—like sunshine after the spring rains. That lazy, roguish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The way he'd recite bizarre poems with exaggerated flourish—nonsense verses that somehow struck her heart more than any masterpiece.

Her lips curled into a smile, unable to stop it.

And yet, there was something in his eyes—an old sorrow, too deep for someone so young. That quiet grief pulled at her heartstrings. Why was he always carrying so much pain? Why wouldn't he speak of it? Didn't he know she wished to share his burdens?

"Ah, you silly rascal," she murmured softly. "What kind of man are you, really? Always keeping your secrets locked away... You're not the only one with problems in this world. And now look what you've done—your melancholy's rubbing off on me. I used to be so cheerful, but lately, all I do is sigh... Oh, my little nemesis, my fated enemy…"

Her mind drifted back to their first meeting.

That day, she had left the noisy bustle of Tianping Manor and come to her residence in Dingzhou City to escape the chaos. The manor had been overrun with martial artists gathering for the upcoming Wulin Assembly—freeloaders and scoundrels, all trying to mooch food, drink, and favors.

Though Xiaoyan was naturally lively and outgoing, she couldn't stand the lecherous stares of those so-called "heroes." To escape their wolfish eyes, she decided to leave.

Spring had painted the manor in its finest colors, and though she was reluctant to part with it, the thought of the man who forced her out—none other than the so-called "Number One Lecher Under Heaven," Qin Ren—made her grind her teeth.

How had a boy not even sixteen, barely two months into the jianghu world, shaken the entire martial realm of the Great Qin Empire? What strange skill had he used to seduce so many famed beauties and defeat renowned masters?

Xiaoyan's curiosity was piqued—but that was as far as it went. The rumors had painted a vivid picture of the infamous Qin Ren:

Short. Stocky. Arms and legs completely out of proportion. A bloated belly. A greasy, doughy face that constantly wore a vile grin. Eyes squinted into perverted slits, darting between every bust and backside. His mouth perpetually open, full of yellow teeth and leftover food.

Blegh. Just thinking about it made her gag.

Yes! That must be what that pervert looks like!

"May I never meet him in my life," she declared to herself, heart full of loathing.

Tianping Manor was only fifteen li from Dingzhou, but the roads were wild with unrest. So even for such a short journey, her father had arranged for eight elite guards to accompany her.

Not that she truly needed them. Xiaoyan was herself a formidable martial artist, a master of the whip—so precise she could snap the wing off a fly from ten paces.

But her father, Du Gongfu, was a cautious man. As he always said, "Fifteen li is more than enough for a hundred ambushes."

Five li from the city, the ambush came.

Fifty bandits attacked in broad daylight. The arrow volley came swift and merciless—her guards turned to porcupines in moments.

As the bandits encircled her, laughing with hungry eyes, their blades gleaming and arrows nocked, she prepared to fight to the death.

Then he appeared.

Like a falling star, he landed in front of her, back straight, folding fan dancing in the wind. Even as arrows rained down, he turned to flash her a radiant smile.

That smile—it struck her heart like thunder.

Suddenly she was blushing, heart pounding, forgetting the life-or-death danger they were in.

The arrows bounced off him as if his body were made of iron. The bandits' expressions twisted in disbelief.

Then he turned back to face them, his warmth vanishing, replaced by an icy sneer sharp enough to cut stone.

That perfect balance—gentle as spring, cold as steel.

He struck. One palm. A wave of power like a storm at sea sent the bandits flying, screaming, rolling through the dirt like broken dolls.

Fifty men, felled in a single move.

No one dared face him again. They fled in panic, chased by his calm gaze—he stood there, hands behind his back, the very image of a battle god.

In that moment, Xiaoyan fell.

She fell for his strength, his grace, his warmth, his mystery.

After that, everything happened naturally. They exchanged names. His was "Li Gang." Some polite words, some lingering glances... and Li Gang followed her back to Dingzhou.

They had tea. Talked. Grew close.

When she invited him to stay at the mansion, he declined, politely. Instead, he booked a room at an inn nearby, coming to visit her every night.

At first, she was disappointed. Then she grew to admire his restraint. Despite their closeness, he never crossed the line. Though he clearly admired her, he was always respectful.

His words, his knowledge, his martial prowess, the folding fan he twirled so masterfully—it all fascinated her.

What she didn't know... was that the man she adored was the very scoundrel she despised: Qin Ren.

And what she really didn't know... was that the bandits who "attacked" her that day later received 1,000 silver taels each. The man who paid them was named Qiao Wei—Qin Ren's most loyal servant.

In every age, heroes rescuing beauties has always been a surefire way to win their hearts—especially when the "hero" is handsome, rich, and charming to boot.

So what is "shameless"? What is "despicable"?

Qin Ren—San Shao—was the walking embodiment of both.

Now, under the moonlight, the young girl waited quietly, her thoughts drifting through memories sweet and false.

Until a tall figure stepped through the silver light.

Each elegant step shattered the moonbeams beneath his feet. His fan stirred the wind, lifting his hair in graceful waves.

Xiaoyan smiled. She stepped forward, then walked faster, then broke into a run—throwing herself into his arms.

His embrace closed around her like a perfect trap.

A picture of romantic perfection—if not for the web of lies behind it.