NOVEL WEB Chapter 209: The Green Flag
The music gardens of the lone manor were almost too quiet.
Soft zithers played from the far pavilion, a slow, mournful tune drifting across the stepping stones like fog. Lanterns hung low between carved beams, their orange light casting halos on the pale gravel paths. The plum trees had already lost their bloom, bare branches curling like ink strokes against the dusk.
Shi Yaozu stood in the shadow of one of the ornamental bridges, motionless.
The woman he was following had not yet seen him.
Lady An Lihua moved with the easy grace of someone used to being watched. Daughter of the late Chancellor An, she had once been a rising star in the Daiyu court—a poet, a widow, a patron of the arts. After her father's quiet fall from power and grace, and after her husband's mysterious death, she had vanished from political life for nearly a decade.
But recently, she'd begun to appear again.
At council dinners.
At court poetry readings.
Always quiet. Always respectful. Always veiled in some shade of green silk, as if to remind the world that she was trying to find favor in another woman who loved to dress in green. Only Lady An's shade always seem to match the color of the old Baiguang dynasty.
Officially, she had no role in the current war, not that women had roles in any war. But like Xinying was proving, just because they didn't traditionally have a role to play, that didn't mean that they weren't pivotal.
Unofficially, her name had shown up on three separate ledgers—each one tied to vanished coin, grain transport permits, or luxury good movements headed west. When the trail bent too sharply to follow through records, Zhao Xinying had given him a single command:
"Watch her. Let her speak. Then listen harder."
So he did. After all, he would never disobey his queen.
From his place under the arching bridge, Yaozu watched as Lady An paused near the koi pond, her sleeve trailing ever so slightly in the water as she knelt. A servant waited a discreet distance away, holding a lacquered fan and a wrapped parcel. No guards. No companions.
She was either supremely confident, exceptionally naïve, or acting out a role.
And he sincerely doubted that the woman in front of him was that naïve.
Yaozu waited until she was alone—until the servant drifted behind a column to tend to tea preparations—before stepping onto the gravel.
Lady An didn't turn.
"You move like a ghost," she said softly.
"Only to those with something to hide," Yaozu replied.
Now she turned.
Her veil was sheer, pale green with embroidered jasmine vines curling at the hem. She wore no visible ornamentation save for a single silver ring—old, oxidized, and worn smooth.
"I've heard the Crown Prince's shadow was far less polite," she said, voice musical. "Am I being honored or threatened?"
"That depends," he replied, voice flat. "Are you offering either in return?"
A smile touched her lips. "Just tea, Commander. Won't you join me?"
He stepped closer, boots silent on the stone.
"I'll have to pass. I'm not here for tea," he said, his voice devoid of emotions.
"No?" She raised a brow. "Then what brings you to my gardens tonight?"
"You've been attending a lot of state functions for someone without a title."
"I'm simply a guest," she replied. "The old Emperor's court may have turned to ash, but some of us still believe in preserving culture."
"Culture," Yaozu echoed. "That what you're calling arms shipments now?"
Lady An didn't flinch. "Those are nothing but rumors. There is no proof."
"There are patterns," he corrected. "Funding. Routes. The same merchants that smuggled silk for your late husband are now moving grain to the southern border—under foreign insignias."
"And what does that have to do with me?"
He stepped close enough to see the shift in her pupils. "Everything."
Lady An tilted her head, calm still. But her fingers twitched at her side—barely a tremor.
"You must be mistaken," she said. "The House of An has no interest in Baiguang's affairs. We are loyal to the crown and the new Emperor of Daiyu."
"The last time Baiguang lost a major ally, you hosted a poetry reading. That same night, three noble families signed trade agreements with Chixia—agreements you sponsored."
She blinked.
Just once.
But it was enough.
Yaozu filed the movement away without a change in expression.
He didn't draw his blade. Didn't raise his voice.
Instead, he nodded slowly, then glanced at the parcel her servant carried.
"Tell me, Lady An," he said. "What kind of poems are worth sealing in wax and sending across borders with military escorts?"
Her smile faltered.
Barely.
But it was there.
Enough.
"Some verses are sharp enough to wound," she said at last, recovering. "Perhaps you'd understand if you read more."
He didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
The silence between them stretched, taut as a bowstring.
Eventually, she exhaled. "I assume you'll be reporting this?" she asked, looking up at him from under her eyes. "I can't convince you to do just look the other way?"
Yaozu raised an eyebrow as the woman stroked her next and chest. "I only answer to one person," he said at last, his voice impassive. Let her guess which person he was referring to. "And I will be repeating everything, even what I see."
"And what is it you've seen, Commander?"
He met her gaze directly.
"A green flag waving over an old battlefield. Pretty. Nostalgic. But still dangerous if left to flutter unchecked."
She held his gaze for a long moment.
Then turned, gracefully, calling her servant with a flick of her wrist. "Then I hope your Empress is as poetic as you are. Perhaps she'll find my metaphors... charming."
"Perhaps," he said.
But he didn't smile.
He stayed where he was as she walked away—silk trailing behind her like mist over water—and only when her footsteps faded beyond the arch did he turn toward the shadows once more.
Later that evening, he found Zhao Xinying in the map room, alone with her tea and candlelight. She didn't speak when he entered.
Just waited.
Yaozu set the parcel from Lady An's servant on the table.
"She slipped," he said simply.
"Perfect," Xinying purred. "Tell me everything."