LIU ANMEI

Liu Anmei stared at the sky. It was happening again. Always. She was bored.

She hated being bored.

She’d climbed half a mountain. Scaled a pine tree. Stolen two dumplings. Set a merchant’s robe on fire by accident—allegedly—and somehow still hadn’t found anything worth doing.

She thought about going down to the local gambling hall and putting herself up for duel auction. If someone could subdue her, she would be their lover for a day.

Unfortunately, she had done that five times already, and no one had been able to subdue her. She was trying to act inappropriately, live her life with some scandal and passion, with blatant disregard for rules—and no one was strong enough to tame her.

What a commentary on how pathetic the men around her were.

She was just about to go home when she saw Vivian Li, stalking back through the path from Lotus Peak like frost incarnate.

She was clearly leaving. Leaving the sword seclusion early. That was not something Vivian would do—not lightly.

Anmei hid behind a tree. Vivian was muttering to herself about scrolls, secrets, and “annoying little husband-coveting foxes who didn’t know their place,” and a machine?

A machine, Anmei thought. How delightfully vague and dangerous.

Naturally, she followed her. Not even carefully.

Vivian hadn’t noticed. Probably because she was too busy smoldering and gritting her teeth and talking like no one was listening.

“I cannot believe she is here; this is completely idiotic. He has needs? Hello, he could have just asked me. I could have helped. But noooo—he’s off designing the next age of martial warfare while I’m slicing spirit targets in the snow like an idiot. Everyone is up in our affairs. We are supposed to be a team. Well, sort of. Damn it. I should have just stayed. That’s it. I am going home after all this to demand an explanation. Naked."

She stopped then and her face went crimson like a cherry tomato. She looked horrified by her own words.

It was so delightful Anmei almost lost it right there.

Vivian looked down at her hands and narrowed her eyes. She took a deep breath and kept walking still muttering. "Yes. Naked. Just you wait Ethan. I will undress; let’s see you ignore me then, you bastard. I am going to make your eyes pop out of your skull so help me.”

Anmei trailed her like a whisper, eating her second dumpling, head tilted.

Vivian continued her rant, but it was becoming clipped—mostly swearing and growling. Someone needed Vivian’s help? There was definitely talk of Divine Moonsteel

, and it was all dangerous??

Divine Moonsteel? Why would she need that? A very powerful, very ceremonial alloy. It wasn’t used much anymore because it was so difficult to create and most people didn’t have access to divine power.

Anmei grinned. That alone was enough to sell her on following Vivian.

Vivian made her way through the market of Yenlun like a woman possessed. She then suddenly entered a rather plain inn. It surprised Anmei, who waited outside the inn, lounging across a bench like she lived there.

It didn’t take long before something happened—the doors to the inn opened.

Three girls stepped out first.

None of them were familiar. But Anmei watched them closely. They weren’t locals. That much was obvious. The first two moved like trained martial aristocracy—refined, symmetrical, in sync. Sisters, obviously. Twin sisters. They were cultivated and delicate. Cute, too. One had an edge in her step like she was always two thoughts ahead; the other carried tension in her shoulders like she was used to being the buffer between brilliance and breakdown.

The third girl was different. A little diva, if she had ever seen one. Shorter, with prominent hips and bust—not unlike herself, though Anmei was quite a bit taller. She was pretty. Maybe as pretty as Anmei herself.

Nah. That was crazy—who could be as pretty as her?

Still, this was the kind of girl who wanted to run the room and get complimented for not trying. A noble’s daughter, clearly—but a mid- to low-tier one, as Anmei didn’t recognize her. The girl was too practiced to be self-conscious. Too calm to be faking it. She wore a simple, unadorned robe, but the cut and drape of the fabric hinted at a master tailor. Her eyes, though, were a soft brown, and there was something about her posture—the effortless stillness—that snagged Anmei’s attention.

Then—

Vivian reappeared.

Same wrapped sword. Same shoulders. Same energy that said I didn’t come here to be admired, but I’ll tolerate it.

And right behind her—another woman. A new one. She was pretty, but plain in a down-to-earth sort of way. Anmei felt the prickle of recognition. That calm, that poise, that effortless way of moving as if the air itself bent to her will. This wasn’t just a noble’s daughter.

Her presence?

That was familiar.

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Anmei focused on the way she walked—she didn’t move like a bodyguard or a servant. She walked like gravity bent for her. Her shoulders were back with perfect posture. Anmei didn’t see a crest. It was strange; the others seemed to defer to her without being told. Even Vivian’s jaw ticked slightly, like her control had teeth marks in it.

Anmei squinted, suddenly more interested. A flicker of insight, as sharp as a newly forged blade, pierced through Anmei’s mind. The unassuming robes, the carefully dulled eyes, the almost-too-perfect composure. A disguise—a powerful one layered with several forms of magic, with several effects.

And who are you, mystery woman? Anmei thought. Why did her face feel vaguely familiar? Anmei was great with faces, terrible with names.

She wasn’t even sure if she knew this name. The last to roundo out the group was a tall gal with blue blonde hair and a plain face. Another one that looked familiar, but unremarkable.

Vivian and the others didn’t speak much as they stepped into the street—just nods, murmurs, like they were about to vanish again.

The initial silence didn’t last long once Vivian’s simmering indignation bubbled to the surface. She stopped abruptly in the middle of the crowded street, forcing the others to halt around her.

“Alright, Princess,” Vivian snapped, her voice low but laced with ice, making the title sound like an insult. “I’ve agreed to your little plan. You’ve clearly made your intentions known. How do I know this isn’t something elaborate to mess with my husband? If Ethan needed something, he’d simply come to me. Why does the Imperial Princess have to get involved in my husband’s affairs? I think I need a better explanation.”

The tall woman—who Anmei now stared at in utter, disbelieving awe—tilted her head. The calm authority in her posture, the subtle way her companions stiffened, confirmed the impossible. The Princess—the Princess—as in Princess Sophie Virelyn, the enigmatic scholar of the Imperial Court, whose face had not been seen in public for years. And now, Anmei realized, she was witnessing the Princess openly snarking in the middle of the marketplace. Anmei knew of Sophie’s wit—it was legendary among those in the know—but she had never even heard of the Princess wielding it with such casual, devastating manner, let alone seen it herself. A slow, knowing smile, sharp enough to cut, bloomed beneath her now-revealed features.

“My dear Lady Li,” Sophie purred, her voice dripping with mock sweetness that barely masked the steel beneath. “Perhaps if you weren’t up here swinging a sword with your thumb up your… well, let’s just say indisposed—leaving your utterly brilliant husband entirely on his own—then perhaps I wouldn’t have to step in to take care of things for you, would I?”

Vivian’s face flushed. “My cultivation is my own affair! And my husband’s needs are my responsibility!”

“Are they?” Sophie challenged, her eyes gleaming. “Your husband needs Divine Moonsteel, and you’re busy being stoic on a mountain. While he’s rebuilding the foundation of our entire magical world, you’re… perfecting your scowl.”

Anmei grinned. There it was again. Divine Moonsteel. They were really looking for it. What’s this ‘rebuilding the foundation of magic’? Ethan was rebuilding the foundation of magic? What did that even mean? This was far more interesting than she’d imagined. She looked between the two women, sparks practically flying between them. Vivian, the Ice Queen, usually so composed, was visibly seething. Sophie, the Golden Mirror of the Imperial House (as she was called by a Path Icon), was usually an enigma, but here she was, openly bickering with Vivian. Anmei had seen nobles fight, had seen duels of wit, but this raw, personal animosity, mixed with genuine strategic stakes, was a rare, delightful spectacle. This was the kind of realness she craved.

The argument escalated—a rapid-fire volley of veiled insults and thinly disguised accusations. Vivian raged about boundaries and propriety. Sophie countered with efficiency and foresight, accusing Vivian of negligence and misplaced priorities. Anmei just listened, utterly enthralled.

It was amazing, really, that they hadn’t noticed her shadowing them. Time to fix that.

Anmei gathered mana into her limbs, vaulted off the alley wall, and landed in front of the group with a flourish.

They stopped abruptly. Vivian’s hand went straight to her sword, the blade half drawn before recognition slowed her. The others stared in wide-eyed silence.

Anmei bowed extravagantly, orange eyes gleaming. “Name’s Liu Anmei. Flame of Emberflower. Duelist. Interloper. Sexy independant woman. And newly self-appointed member of whatever secret mission you’re obviously failing to keep secret. Hello, Princess. Consider yourself politely greeted.”

No one answered right away.

The Princess arched a brow, unimpressed. “Wonderful. Another of the Four Beauties. How many of you intend to appear out of nowhere? Shall I expect the complete set?”

“Only two out of four,” Anmei said cheerfully. “The Peacock is at home missing out, and the Spirit Poet remains on the Peak communing with woodspits or something; she is going to be so lonely without us.”

Vivian’s sword hissed back into its sheath, though her eyes never left Anmei. “You’re not coming.”

“Oh, I am.”

“No.” Vivian’s voice was cold, absolute. “This isn’t a duel or a tea garden prank. It’s dangerous and you're reckless. You’ll compromise everything.”

Anmei’s grin widened. “Compromise everything? Vivian, you’re sneaking off like some scandalous maiden, trying to keep secrets but arguing with the Imperial Princess, at the top of your lungs.

You didn’t even notice I was following you. Your secret mission to retrieve Divine Moon Steel for your sexy husband is not so secret. Besides, if this is as dangerous as the princess claims you will need me, and even if you don’t, I have a very big mouth. Maybe I should trot off to your husband instead—keep him company, tell him all about this little midnight errand.”

Vivian’s eyes flashed like drawn steel. The air between them tightened, sharp enough to cut.

Sophie made a soft sound, half amusement, half warning. “She isn't wrong Vivian. We were being pretty loud. Now, are you two going to claw each other here, or can we keep walking?”

Marissa groaned and rubbed her forehead.

"I know the princess was smart." Anmei laughed and fell into step beside them as if nothing had happened. She didn’t need permission—or really a reason—to join. Needling Vivian had been worth it on its own.

Wherever they were going, there would be drama, danger, and scandal.

Her three favorite things.

Just as they were about to get moving some soft, pretty boy appeared.

“Vivian.”

Anmei adjusted her posture.

Vivian froze mid-step. The temperature in the alley dropped. She looked at the guy, nervous—surprisingly; then she looked at the twins.

Anmei wondered what that was about.

He started talking—too soft, too hopeful. Something about just wanting to check in and how much he missed her and how they were destined by the stars or some garbage.

Anmei raised an eyebrow. What a little bitch.

Vivian didn’t speak. But her face said plenty.

Before Anmei could enjoy the awkwardness in full, Vivian moved to him. She cut him off, her voice flat and cold.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Her voice was low. Even. No fire. Just judgment sharpened to a knife point.

Jun tried to recover—blathering something about concern, timing, being there for Vivian. Honestly, he sounded so pathetic she stopped listening halfway through.

And then Sophie cut in with something sharp.

Anmei didn’t catch the exact words, but she caught the weight.

Lines were being drawn.

Vivian said something that ended it. Cold. Clean.

The guy backed off.

He didn’t look angry. Just… tired.

And that was when Anmei stood up and stretched.

“Well,” she said brightly, tossing her now-empty skewer. She smiled, fully intending to get a rise out of her companions, “this is easily the most deliciously tense scene I’ve witnessed all month.”

Five heads turned. Fivepairs of eyes narrowed.

She bowed slightly.