The Li estate was quiet by midnight.
Servants had retired. The Iron General remained in the inner hall, reviewing battle reports even though the war was over. Grandfather had returned to his private study, likely drinking plum wine and pretending not to worry.
And Li Yun?
Li Yun was in the kitchen, stealing a steamed bun.
He chewed in silence, eyes thoughtful as moonlight spilled through the high windows.
"Too much ginger," he muttered. "They're trying to kill me."
He tossed the half-eaten bun aside and slipped out the side door. Moments later, he stood on the shadowed rooftop of the eastern wing, gazing out at the noble district below.
Beneath the quiet, the city simmered.
Rumors, secrets, ambitions — all flowing like wine at a noble banquet. No wars remained, but a hundred knives were being sharpened in their place.
Li Yun took out a folded silk note from inside his sleeve.
It contained names.
Five of them.
Each carefully chosen — young nobles with quiet discontent, overlooked by their own families, mocked or underestimated, just like him. But not for long.
He didn't need to control the capital.
He just needed a few broken pieces no one wanted — to build something no one expected.
A new hand of cards.
He stared at the names. Then he reached into a crack in the rooftop tile and withdrew a small sealed box, hidden earlier that week. He slipped the names inside and resealed it.
Let the others play court games.
He played assassin's chess.
The next morning, the Li family received a formal invitation.
From the Jin family — one of the capital's wealthiest houses and longtime rivals.
A surprise banquet to celebrate the Iron General's return.
No one declined an invitation from the Jin. Especially not after war.
"I'll go," General Li Zheng said.
"Of course," said Grandfather, sipping tea. "And you'll bring your son."
Everyone turned to Li Yun, who was lounging upside down on a couch.
"Wait, what?" he said.
"You are the heir," Grandfather said flatly. "Time you act like one. Wear something that doesn't look like it lost a fight with a scarecrow."
"I liked that scarecrow," Li Yun mumbled.
That evening, the carriage rolled through the gilded gates of the Jin estate. Lanterns floated in the air. Perfumed petals rained from silk banners. Flutes played the kind of music that made people feel important for just standing still.
Inside, the hall was a storm of laughter, gossip, and scheming smiles.
Li Yun followed two steps behind his father — a perfect picture of the lazy heir tagging along. Half-bored, half-drunk.
He wasn't.
He was watching.
Every eye that lingered too long. Every whisper that stopped mid-sentence. Every noble who smiled without showing teeth.
They feared his father.
They ignored him.
Good.
At the far end of the banquet, a familiar voice rang out.
"Well if it isn't Young Master Li. I heard you were alive. I assumed the reports were exaggerated."
Zhao Feilong.
Of course.
Li Yun turned with a grin. "Feilong! Still walking upright? I figured your pride would've crushed your spine by now."
Gasps. Laughter. A few spilled wine cups.
Zhao turned red.
"Careful, Li Yun. Some people here matter."
Li Yun sipped his drink. "Then let's hope you brought one with you."
He wandered away before Feilong could recover.
As he passed a side table, a servant girl leaned forward and whispered, "Master Li, the west courtyard. Alone. Now."
He blinked.
Interesting.