Chapter 1 The Thumb Ring

Chapter 1: The Archer's Ring

At the hour of Zi, when night was deepest.

Yin Rou still knelt in the Chen family’s Buddhist shrine, her thin summer gown soaked with sweat, clinging to her slender yet curvaceous figure, accentuating her narrow waist and full bosom. Yet, at this moment, her body swayed precariously, on the verge of collapse.

Her face, illuminated by candlelight, was deathly pale, her exquisite features drawn and haggard from exhaustion.

Beside her, on a round stool, sat a sharp-faced, acerbic old woman—Nanny Lu, the First Madam’s personal attendant—who was supervising the punishment on her mistress’s behalf.

The shadow of the rattan whip flickered menacingly over Yin Rou’s body, a constant threat. Should she dare to relax, the whip would fall.

Yin Rou’s knees were numb with agonizing pain from kneeling, and her head spun dizzily. To keep from collapsing, she bit down hard on her lips, leaving deep and shallow indentations on their tender flesh, some even showing traces of blood.

Her fragile appearance, however, only drew Nanny Lu’s scorn. "The Madam is merciful, merely punishing you to kneel in the Buddhist shrine. Otherwise, for seducing the Master and causing his old illness to flare up, you should be severely beaten and drowned in the pond!"

The candlelight cast Nanny Lu’s shadow behind her, its claw-like form seeming to tear at Yin Rou.

"I didn’t..." Yin Rou whispered, but the next instant, Nanny Lu’s whip lashed across her arm.

Her sleeve tore instantly, revealing a vivid red welt where the whip had struck. The searing pain brought tears to her eyes.

Yin Rou dared not make a sound, only bit harder on her trembling lips.

More cold sweat beaded on her forehead, and her head spun with increasing intensity.

Her lips moved unconsciously, murmuring silently: *Father... Mother... Elder Brother...*

She had been born into a minor official’s family; though not wealthy, they never lacked for food or comfort. Yet, fate was unpredictable. Her father had been implicated in a corruption case involving disaster relief funds. As an official, her father had always been cautious and upright; how could he have dared to do such a thing? He was merely taking the blame for someone else.

Her father and elder brother were sentenced to death, her mother died of grief, and she herself was destined for servitude. But Master Chen took a liking to her beauty, and the prefect, seizing the opportunity to curry favor, gifted her to him.

Tears streamed from Yin Rou’s eyes. She missed her parents, missed her brother. She had not seduced the Master; it was her resistance that had enraged him, causing his fury to trigger his old illness...

Yin Rou was filled with immense grievance and helplessness, yet she could only endure in silence, knowing any protest would only invite harsher punishment. Her eyelids fluttered, and she blinked hard to clear her tears.

Seeing her compliance, Nanny Lu nodded in satisfaction, then paced beside her, lecturing her self-righteously.

Yin Rou’s thoughts grew heavier, her entire body ached, and her body temperature seemed to be slowly draining away. *So cold.*

"Who told you to move?" Nanny Lu snapped, frowning as Yin Rou sagged, her eyes filled with even deeper disdain. "Is this how you hussies usually flaunt yourselves? Do you think this will make you a concubine? Bah!"

With that, she brought the whip down again with force. Yin Rou could no longer hold on. Like a fallen butterfly, she crumpled to the ground, losing consciousness.

***

Xiyu Pass was a crucial frontier fortress of the Great Yu Dynasty. Beyond it lay the Kingdom of Wulan, and trade between the two nations was frequent. The Chen family of Xiyu Pass traced its ancestry to one of the Three Dukes. After their ancestor, Chen Gaozu, resigned from office, the family relocated here. Over the years, the Chen family gained control of the tea-horse trade along this route, gradually becoming immensely wealthy merchants with countless businesses and properties.

Currently, the family’s business was managed by the eldest Master Chen, while the second Master Chen served as an official in the imperial court. Furthermore, the Chen family matriarch was the sister of the Xiyu Pass’s garrison commander. With such combined influence, the Chen family held immense prestige among both officials and merchants in the region.

The Chen estate itself occupied half of South Street. Within its walls, gardens, pavilions, and winding corridors formed a labyrinthine complex, exuding a profound and oppressive grandeur, its depths unfathomable, a testament to the passage of time.

At dawn, Nanny Lu attended Madam Wu as she rose and dressed. Though meticulously maintained, the passage of time had left its mark on her. Her sapphire blue brocade robe emphasized her dignified status rather than her fading beauty.

As usual, Nanny Lu first handed her three sticks of incense. Madam Wu offered them at the Buddhist shrine before proceeding to the main hall for breakfast.

"How is Song Yinrou?" Madam Wu asked idly.

"Frail thing. She collapsed before dawn."

"If she’s so weak, let’s hope she doesn’t perish," Madam Wu remarked meaningfully, casting a glance at Nanny Lu.

Nanny Lu understood. "She won’t last the day."

"Then keep an eye on her. See she doesn’t trouble the Master when he wakes."

Nanny Lu nodded and escorted Madam Wu to the hall.

***

When the servants burst into the room, Yu He was wringing out a damp cloth to cool Yin Rou’s feverish forehead. The door crashed open, startling her, and the cloth slipped from her trembling hand.

Alarmed by their aggressive entrance, Yu He demanded, "What are you doing?"

"The First Madam says she’s contracted a pestilence. To prevent contagion, she must be moved to the rear annex to recuperate."

The steward waved his hand, and the servants surged forward to carry Yin Rou away.

Yu He’s heart raced. The young lady had clearly been beaten on the First Madam’s orders—how could they claim it was illness? And with her high fever, the abandoned, airless rear annex was no place for recovery.

This was clearly a death sentence!

In desperation, Yu He rushed forward, only to be shoved to the ground. She could only watch helplessly as they roughly dragged Yin Rou away.

As the blanket slipped to the floor, Yin Rou’s slender, willow-like frame was exposed, her small, pale face still hauntingly lovely despite her exhaustion.

The men’s eyes glinted with a momentary spark of desire, their gazes growing bold—until the steward barked at them, and they hastily carried her off to the rear annex.

Yin Rou frowned in pain, her body aching everywhere, but she couldn’t open her eyes. An endless chill gnawed at her. *So cold... so painful...*

Yu He chased after them to the annex, only to find Yin Rou carelessly dumped on a bare, icy pallet.

Her arm hung limply over the edge, her skirt spilled like dying petals on the floor, a fleeting burst of beauty in this lifeless, stifling space.

Yu He’s heart clenched. She rushed to adjust Yin Rou, murmuring, "Young lady, you must fight. Once the Master wakes, he’ll surely demand justice. You must endure!"

Yin Rou seemed to hear her mother’s dying words, gripping her fingers tightly: *"My dear child, you must live. You must survive."*

She wanted to live, to open her eyes—but the weight was crushing. The pain, the suffering, it was all too much.

In her delirium, funeral drums seemed to thrum.

***

Yin Rou felt herself grow weightless, like a tendril of mist drifting into the sky. She floated through the Chen estate, the dirge growing louder as she followed it to a hall swathed in funeral white. A black-lacquered, gold-trimmed coffin stood at the center, surrounded by mourners in white—and she was among them.

Dread coiled in her—*had she not died? Then who had?*

The name on the coffin plaque became clear: *Master Chen!*

Before she could process this, the vision shattered. Now she and the other concubines knelt before the First Madam.

The First Madam was selling them off one by one. The others were dragged away weeping, and soon it was her turn.

She watched as she was sold to a pleasure house. She tried to escape, only to be caught, beaten—until her last gasp ended nothing.

But even death brought no peace. Her corpse was tossed into a paupers’ pit, left to rot, forsaken by gods and men. Bitterness turned to hatred, then numbness.

Perhaps her life had only been proof the heavens were merciless. Her consciousness frayed—her soul, at last, was fading. In the darkness, she glimpsed figures approaching the mass grave. No living soul ventured here—who were they?

Yin Rou strained to see clearly, but the man seemed shrouded in mist, only his tall, imposing figure vaguely discernible. His robes fluttered as he walked, his regal presence jarringly out of place in this decaying world.

After watching for a while, Yin Rou turned away indifferently—whoever he was, he was no concern of hers.

"Young master, don't do it!"

At the startled cry of his attendant, Yin Rou looked back.

To her astonishment, the man had descended into the pile of corpses and was rifling through them barehanded. His fine robes were now smeared and rumpled. What was he searching for?

His followers also stepped into the heap, joining the grim task.

It hit Yin Rou, her breath catching in her throat. The man suddenly froze—before him lay her own corpse, dragged from the muck.

Her ghostly corpse had already begun to decay. Yin Rou couldn’t bear to look, turning away with eyes burning.

Yet she needed to know who this man was and why he had sought out her remains. Gritting her teeth, she forced her gaze back.

The man stood silently before her, as if gazing at her for what felt like ages. Then he knelt, pulling out a handkerchief to gently wipe the grime from her face.

Yin Rou was stunned—how wasn’t he disgusted?

"Young master, we should give her a proper burial," a servant urged, stepping forward to move her.

"Don’t touch her." The man finally spoke, scooping her limp form into his arms. "I came too late... I came too late."

Was it the mass grave’s biting wind? His voice trembled, raw with grief that seemed to saturate the desolate air.

Something in his wind-worn voice pierced Yin Rou’s numbness, unearthing a sorrow so sharp she longed to weep. But when she touched her eyes, they were dry—she was already dead.

Who was he?

Desperate to see him clearly, Yin Rou strained, but her vision only blurred further. Even the sounds around her grew indistinct.

The man cradled her corpse, tending to her burial himself.

Flames to ash, ash to earth.

Yin Rou’s consciousness unraveling like smoke. She knew she was slipping from the world forever. With her last strength, she turned her gaze once more to the man standing before her grave.

Even knowing she couldn’t see him clearly, she refused to look away, fighting to memorize the one who had granted her peace at the end.

The man raised his hand, pressing it lightly against her memorial tablet. His fingers traced her name, trembling, then slowly lowered.

For a fleeting moment, Yin Rou saw his hand clearly—and with it, the jade thumb ring he wore.

Translucent white jade, flawless, resting on long, elegant fingers—exuding quiet refinement.

She recognized that ring. But how could it be him?

In stunned denial, Yin Rou tried to confirm what she’d seen, but her spirit was torn away, everything dissolving into obscurity...