Chapter Sixty-Three

In the ink-black night sky, the moon hung high overhead. Suddenly, a dark cloud veiled its light, but after a moment, the brightness returned, making one think the darkness had been nothing more than a trick of the eye.

Yingyue rubbed the sore nape of her neck, slowly opened her eyes, and gazed at the lavish yet chilling room around her, a surge of unease rising in her heart.

“At last, you’ve woken up. As expected, a pampered songbird only ever lives a life of luxury and comfort.” A seductive voice, dripping with venom, came from behind her. The hairs on the back of Yingyue’s neck stood upright as she slowly turned to look.

There stood a woman with fiery red hair, her emerald eyes glinting coldly as she looked at Yingyue. Though she smiled, it was more frightening than any harsh words.

“You… are Maria?” Yingyue asked hesitantly, recalling the photograph she’d seen of Maria and Arthur together. She remembered the woman’s gentle, confident smile in that image—so different from the hidden malice in her smile now.

Maria’s lips curled into a mocking grin. She raised her glass of red wine, took a sip, and looked at Yingyue with scornful eyes. “You certainly have a keen eye,” she said, swirling the crimson liquid. “I don’t recall us ever meeting.”

Yingyue flushed in embarrassment, lowered her head slightly, and said nothing. Maria seemed in no hurry to speak either, quietly savoring her wine. Eventually, Yingyue couldn’t bear the silence and spoke, her voice tentative.

“Why did you summon me here?”

Maria cast her a sidelong glance, still refusing to answer.

“If you’re looking for Arthur, he’s not here. You can wait for him to return.” Yingyue’s cheeks reddened at the mention of Arthur.

Though Maria remained silent, she watched Yingyue through the crystal glass, scrutinizing her every move. When she caught sight of Yingyue’s shy expression, her fingers tightened around the glass, her eyes burning with resentful hatred.

Yingyue felt a sudden chill surround her. She looked toward the source of the cold, only to see Maria gazing at her with an inscrutable smile that sent shivers down her spine.

“Did you bring me here for something?”

“Oh, I noticed you’ve been rather idle lately. You really should exercise more—so you’ll still be beautiful and healthy when Arthur returns.”

“Exercise more?” Yingyue looked at Maria in confusion.

“Yes, life thrives on movement.” Maria drained her wine in a single gulp and strode toward Yingyue, stopping beside her. She hooked a finger under Yingyue’s chin, gazing deep into her eyes. Her other hand caressed Yingyue’s face, but her heart seethed with hatred. It was this face—this face that had bewitched Arthur, leaving him lost, oblivious to his own name, blind to the weight he carried, and unaware that she was still by his side—a woman who loved him with her very life.

With that thought, Maria angrily shoved Yingyue’s face aside, rose, and walked toward the door. She wiped her hands with a handkerchief, and called to the waiting maid, “Miss Lan is yours now. Make sure you take good care of our ‘distinguished guest.’”

“Yes, Miss,” replied the eight maids respectfully. Once Maria departed, they approached Yingyue, expressionless.

Panic seized Yingyue’s heart. She ran toward the door, but no matter how she pulled, it would not budge. Turning back, she stared in terror as the maids stepped closer.

“What do you intend to do?”