Chapter One: The Notorious Wu Zhen

The streets of Chang’an were buzzing that spring night, lanterns painting the city in crimson and gold. Laughter spilled from wine houses, music drifted from the Lefang brothel, and rumor always rumor ran swifter than the evening breeze.

And at the heart of every rumor stood the same name.

“Wu Zhen.”

The Duke of Henan’s only daughter, younger sister to the queen herself. A woman born to silk and jade, yet better known for scandal than grace.

That evening, Wu Zhen lounged at the head of a table in Lefang’s largest chamber, one boot propped carelessly on a chair. She was dressed in men’s attire indigo robes embroidered with golden clouds, a jade pendant hanging loosely at her chest. Her black hair, bound with a scholar’s crown, gleamed in the lamplight.

Around her, a half-dozen young aristocrats laughed too loudly, wine spilling freely. The air was thick with perfume, incense, and the chatter of courtesans.

“Zhen-ge, your aim is terrible!” cried one of the youths as Wu Zhen attempted to flick a peanut into a goblet. The peanut bounced off the rim and struck the boy in the forehead.

Wu Zhen threw her head back and laughed, a sound rich and unrestrained. “And yet, still better than your poetry, Fang Yuan!”

The courtesans giggled behind silk sleeves. Everyone adored Wu Zhen. Everyone feared her, too her sharp tongue, her reckless courage, her unshakable confidence in a city that bowed to propriety.

But while laughter filled the room, Wu Zhen’s gaze occasionally flicked to the shadows in the corner. To most, it was empty air. To her, it was not.

A spirit crouched there, pale and gaunt, eyes glowing faintly red. It hissed, unseen by all but her.

Wu Zhen raised her cup, drinking deeply, and let her smile linger. Yet beneath the table, her fingers moved subtly, tracing a warding sigil against her thigh. The spirit recoiled, vanishing like mist.

Only she had seen. Only she always saw.

Later, when the revels broke and her companions stumbled into the night, Wu Zhen stepped onto Lefang’s roof. The city sprawled before her, its thousand lanterns reflecting the stars. The spring wind tugged at her robes.

She closed her eyes.

The feline presence stirred within her, sleek and powerful. Since that fall years ago when the former Cat Master had saved her and passed on his power she had belonged not only to the human world but also to the hidden Demon City beneath Chang’an.

Her ears caught a sound that was not of this world. A whisper. A plea.

“Cat Master…”

Wu Zhen opened her eyes, and they glowed faintly gold.

A figure stood across the rooftop. A man in Taoist robes, tall, with a calm expression and a gaze sharp as a blade. His presence was quiet yet commanding, like the stillness of a mountain before a storm.

Mei Zhu Yu.

Wu Zhen arched an eyebrow. “And what wind blows a temple prodigy to a brothel’s roof?”

He bowed slightly, though his lips curved in faint amusement. “The same wind that guides spirits. I followed one here and found you instead.”

Wu Zhen smirked, hands clasped behind her back. “Then fortune smiles on you, Taoist. But beware. I bite.”

For the first time, Mei Zhu Yu’s composure faltered his eyes flickered with something unspoken.

And so began the partnership that would change Chang’an forever.

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