The day in Cháng'ān (长安) was mild under a partly cloudy sky, but the occasional fine droplets of rain hinted at an impending downpour. The city was a sea of commotion, its narrow thoroughfares teeming with crowds. Hēiláng (黑狼) and Hànyuè (汉月) stood beside a small stall. The vendor showed Hànyuè a delicate oil-paper umbrella (油纸伞) and said with a flattering smile:
"An umbrella such as this is worthy of the grace of a lady as beautiful as you."
Hànyuè gazed at the intricate patterns with delight.
"Did you paint this yourself?" The woman nodded in confirmation.
"It is truly exquisite; I love it," Hànyuè said admiringly.
Her eyes then caught the Douli hats (斗笠) [Conical Chinese Bamboo Hat], hanging from the stall's wooden frame. She took one and handed it to Hēiláng. "Put this on."
He placed the hat on his head and pulled the brim low, concealing part of his face in shadow. He then asked playfully, "Do I look like a farmer now?"
Hànyuè placed her hand under his chin, gently tilting his head up to look deep into his eyes. "No," she whispered, "you look like a Wandering Warrior."
At that moment, Mùyě (牧野) arrived, breathless.
"Your Highness, I have found the house of the merchant Zhāo (昭). We can move now." Hēiláng took another simple Douli hat, pressed it against Mùyě's chest, and said curtly:
"Settle the payment." He then took Hànyuè's hand and departed.
In a corner of the market, a suspicious young man watched them from behind the stalls. Suddenly, he moved with haste towards them, intentionally colliding with Hēiláng and falling to the ground. Hēiláng stared at him with a piercing gaze. The man muttered a brief apology, but in that same instant, he skilfully concealed a small, rolled-up piece of paper in his palm.
Hēiláng reached out to help him up. "No worries." he said gravely. In the brief contact of their hands, the paper was professionally exchanged without a soul noticing. The man bowed again after rising and vanished quickly into the crowd. Mùyě turned for a moment, watching him leave with suspicion.
"What a strange man!", he said.
Hēiláng, seemingly indifferent, quickly hid the paper within his robes.
The rain intensified. "Very well," Hēiláng said. "We must get there sooner."
When they reached the manor, Lady Sù (素), her belly prominently rounded with child, ran to the door. She embraced Hànyuè and welcomed them warmly, then cast a curious glance at Hēiláng and whispered to Hànyuè:
"Who is this handsome man you've brought with you?"
Hànyuè's cheeks flushed. "He is... Prince Hēiláng."
The merchant, standing near his wife, bowed deeply in terror upon hearing this. He was about to speak when Hēiláng whispered sharply:
"It is better that my identity remains hidden."
The merchant, stunned for a moment, replied, "As you wish, Your Highness," and invited them inside.
Night had fallen completely. In Hànyuè's room, Sù asked:
"Has Uncle come to terms with the loss of his wife?"
Hànyuè sighed. "I feel he is less happy these days. He keeps his grief to himself."
Sù nodded sadly. "For a proud man like Uncle, showing emotion is very difficult." They sat in silence for a moment. Then, to change the subject, Hànyuè smiled and placed her hand on Sù's belly.
"Is this little one not bothering you?", she said.
Sù laughed. "Yes. It's already clear he's going to be just like his father."
Then, she mischievously took Hànyuè's hand. "Listen to me, you really should marry soon. The fact that he waited a full year for your husband's mourning period to end means his heart is still with you. Has he not proposed yet?"
Hànyuè sighed with regret.
"It is not as easy as you think... there is a problem."
Sù insisted: "Tell me. Maybe I can help." Hànyuè paused. "I will tell you, but first, you must promise to do something for me."
At that same hour, Hēiláng sat at his desk in his room, dressed in his black night robes. He took the small scrap of paper and unfurled it. As he read, a slight frown creased his brow. He closed his eyes for a moment, deep in thought, then held the paper over the flame of the oil lamp. It burned completely to ash.
A knock came at the door. Mùyě's voice followed: "Your Highness, may I come in?"
Upon permission, he entered and said immediately: "Lady Hànyuè wishes to see you." Hēiláng paused, then turned to him. "Very well. I am going now."
Shortly after, he was at Hànyuè's door. As he entered, the room was draped in twilight. He scanned the room but did not see her.
"Hànyuè... where are you?"
Suddenly, Hànyuè closed the door behind him and drew the curtain. Hēiláng turned swiftly, asking in surprise:
"What are you doing?"
She stepped forward, took his hands, and said with a trembling but determined voice: "Tonight... sleep with me."
Hēiláng's eyebrows shot up. He pulled back slightly. "What do you mean?"
Hànyuè drew closer. Her delicate fingers traced a path from his shoulder, sliding down over the firm muscles of his chest.
"I mean... I want to have a personal bodyguard tonight. Someone just for me."
Hēiláng gave a mocking smile, leaning down until he was eye-to-level with her. "Is that all?"
Flustered, Hànyuè lowered her head and whispered:
"Someone who gets a little more... intimate with me..."
Hēiláng leaned into her ear and whispered in a tone that reeked of danger:
"But sleeping with me… requires great courage. I am a dangerous man. Do you think you can endure me?"
Hànyuè looked directly into his eyes and swallowed hard. "Then stop talking... and show me exactly!"
Hēiláng stared at her with an unreadable expression for a long time. No one could read his mind. Then he said:
"Very well, let us see who is the braver one!"
Hànyuè blew out the oil lamp on the table. Facing him in the dim light, she asked shyly,
"Well... how should we begin?"
Suddenly, like a predatory wolf, Hēiláng lunged. He gripped her collar and pinned her against the wall, his eyes locked onto hers. At that exact moment, a massive bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating his face for a split second. In that flash, Hànyuè saw eyes so wild they would strike terror into the hearts of men.
Terrified, Hànyuè clutched his sleeve, her voice trembling and thin.
"Hēiláng... why... why are you looking at me like that?"
She struggled to breathe in the suffocating silence, her plea barely a whisper:
"Please... don't be rough... I'm... I'm really scared."
When his face didn't change—like a cold, stone mask—she stammered:
"What... what are you going to do to me?!"
But Hēiláng remained silent, his gaze fixed on her with a deadly, haunting intensity; a gaze that carried the cold ruthlessness of the Lóng (龍) clan.