Lace Glory Universe King GL - Chapter 11

Sikong Zhen seemed neither hurried nor slow. The day after the Ziwei Palace audience, he sent word to the Office of Protocol that the Wu princess would be escorted there the following day.

That meant the ambush planned for the evening could still rely on Sun Shangxiang’s help. Having a partner with crowd control skills, especially a marksman, was the best option against Gongsun Li.

When Hua Mulan mentioned this to her, Shangxiang agreed without hesitation.

During the day, Shangxiang told Minister Shiqing that she wanted to go out to stroll and watch a performance. He granted permission and assigned two guards to accompany her that night.

Seeing everything fall into place, Hua Mulan finally left the guesthouse.

Outside, she found a telephone booth and placed a long-distance call. No one answered.

The whereabouts of Prince Lanling were always uncertain—he might not even be in Jinting.

After a moment’s thought, she left a voice message:

“Hello, are you still on assignment? I’m sure you can tell who this is. Mm, call me back at this number.”

She recited a string of digits—the front desk of Changle Hall.

Just as she hung up, the phone rang again.

“General Hua, I’m here.” Prince Lanling’s languid voice came through. “A call with no beginning or end and no clear identity? Normally, I wouldn’t pick it up.”

Mulan frowned at the receiver. “So, you’ve returned to Jinting?”

“Mhm. My mission is temporarily at a close.”

“Would you be able to come to Chang’an? I’ll pay, you handle the work.” She was already calculating how much money she would need.

“Ah, you’re the last person I’d want to refuse, General Hua.” Lanling coughed lightly, then added, “But it’s not that my mission has ended—it’s that I’ve been injured.”

“What? Seriously?” Mulan asked with concern, though in truth what mattered to her was whether he could still be of use.

“This time it really is serious. Even though in front of you I’d rather feign strength… I’m afraid I won’t make it to Chang’an.”

Mulan urged him to take care of himself and, disappointed, stepped out of the booth.

Later, she booked a room upstairs in Changle Hall, determined to rest and wait.

At last evening came. She ordered a meal, opened the window halfway, and sat there eating while watching the street below.

One by one, the lanterns lit up. The shops brimmed with lively noise as guests streamed into Changle Hall. When she finally spotted Sun Shangxiang and the two guards, it was close to eight o’clock.

The show began at eight. Hua Mulan descended to the main hall, blending into the bustling crowd, her eyes sweeping for the right vantage point.

There—an inconspicuous corner seat. Perfect. She settled behind them just as the audience hall dimmed.

The ink-painted screens rose—

The performance unfolded much like the night before. Sitting quietly, Mulan rehearsed the battle that was about to erupt.

Shangxiang watched the Jinghong Dance for a while, but near the end she grew distracted.

When the performers took their bows and the audience began filing out, conversations buzzed with delight.

Shangxiang, still nibbling on a snack, told the guards to stay put.

With her skills refreshed and ready, Mulan’s hand pressed lightly against the hilt of her dagger.

Most of the crowd had dispersed.

Shangxiang coughed once. That was the signal.

In a flash, Mulan hurled her dagger. Before the guards could react, their heads lolled, and they slumped unconscious in their chairs.

Shangxiang rose and walked casually toward the exit.

Mulan made sure with a few extra strikes that they’d remain dazed, then slipped out quickly.

Outside, she and Shangxiang exchanged glances. Mulan took the lead, Shangxiang close behind.

They hid in a narrow alley across from the Bailan Inn. Its entrance was lit by magnolia-shaped lanterns, refined and quiet, shielded from the marketplace noise by tall nearby buildings.

“According to the usual timing,” Mulan explained, “after the performance ends at nine-thirty, Gongsun Li heads backstage to remove her makeup. By the time she returns here, it’ll be past ten.”

“That means we still have half an hour,” Shangxiang said, checking the time.

“No rush. The later it gets, the fewer people around—the better for us.”

“Just be careful,” Shangxiang reminded her.

“I will. You stay in position and don’t step forward.” Mulan’s eyes never left the street.

They went over the plan again. Shangxiang would use her Red Lotus Bomb from the alley corner to immobilize the target. After that, close combat was Mulan’s job. Shangxiang would then return immediately to Changle Hall to cover their tracks with a harmless lie.

Half an hour later, Gongsun Li finally appeared.

Mulan stepped out of the alley, her heavy sword transforming into a long, violet parasol.

“Miss Ali, greetings. I’m one of your devoted admirers.” She greeted politely.

Surprised, Gongsun Li glanced up. Seeing an unthreatening face, she relaxed, thinking it just another fan seeking an autograph. “Oh… I’m not available right now.”

“It’s no trouble. I only want a signature.” Mulan’s hand brushed her parasol.

From her vantage point, Shangxiang fired a slowing bolt.

Gongsun Li reacted instantly, using Lone Goose Through the Sunset. Mulan retreated two steps, flinging another dagger while anticipating where Li’s paper parasol would land.

Switching to her light blade, she struck just as Li reappeared beneath her parasol. At the same time, Shangxiang rolled forward, unleashing a hail of bullets. Overwhelmed, Gongsun Li quickly lost her footing.

Knowing her part was done, Shangxiang didn’t linger—she turned and hurried back to Changle Hall.

Mulan pressed on for a few more exchanges before stepping back. “Miss Ali, I don’t wish to harm you—only to seek your guidance.”

Clutching her parasol and a wound, Gongsun Li retorted, “I’ve never seen anyone seek guidance like this.”

“My apologies.” Mulan bowed.

Seeing she was injured, Mulan helped her back to the Bailan Inn, giving her a stimulant crystal.

“No need. There’s one on the dressing table,” Li said from the bed, declining her offer.

Mulan fetched it for her.

“You said you had questions?” Li asked after regaining her breath.

Seated nearby, Mulan waited until she saw the crystal take effect, then asked directly: “Miss Ali, did you work for the Grand Minister these past months?”

Li sighed. “You won’t get anything about him from me.”

“Why?”

“Because I was nothing more than a minor player. What do you already know?” she countered.

“I have solid proof you carried messages between the Grand Minister and Sun Quan. Of course, you could claim you were merely ferrying papers without knowing their contents.”

“That’s right. I was just one of his hired couriers. He never used the same person twice. I did the job, took the pay, and asked no questions. What else do you want to know?”

Mulan believed her. This matched his meticulous style—no one person ever knew the full picture.

“But tell me—did they always communicate only through transmission slips?”

“Yes.”

Transmission slips ignited upon opening, leaving no trace.

“How many times did you deliver them? How did you pick them up? Where did you drop them off?”

“If I remember correctly, six times. Officials from the Bureau of Measurement would secretly deliver them to my inn room. If I wasn’t there, they’d wait. As for deliveries, Sun Quan once picked them up at the border. After that, we always met at an estate called Autumn Twilight Villa.”

“So, were you his lover too?” Mulan asked skeptically.

“Of course not—unless that’s what he claimed to others.”

“I heard he changes girlfriends often. Did you know?”

“I did. Women were always around his schemes. But…” Li paused, searching for words.

Mulan waited.

“I don’t think he’s truly lustful. I’m considered passably attractive, but he never showed the slightest interest. Once he had the message, he wouldn’t spare me another glance. That’s how it always was.”

Mulan thought this confirmed her suspicion—that his debauchery was merely a smokescreen for his ambition.

“These six errands—you noticed nothing unusual? Nothing apart from the slips?”

“…Oh, the last time. Sun Quan had me carry a brochure back.” Li suddenly remembered.

“A brochure?”

“Yes. Just a promotional leaflet for a Wu consortium amusement park project. Nothing remarkable—you see the ads all over Jiangjun.”

“Do you recall what it was—?”

“Seaside Battleship. Hard to forget, isn’t it? An island amusement park built around a battleship theme.”

Mulan’s heart sank. The scheme surely hid within this amusement park.

“Miss Ali, forgive me. Tonight’s battle was unavoidable. But I must take my leave.”

Meanwhile, Shangxiang returned to Changle Hall to find several staff gathered around the unconscious guards. Someone was slapping one’s face, while a woman in a physician’s robe bent over to examine them.

“They’re waking!” the physician exclaimed. “See? Nothing serious.”

Shangxiang rushed over, quickly pulling the groggy guards to their feet. “Come on, let’s go! If we’re any later, the minister will scold us. Make way, please. Sorry for the fuss.”

Supporting them with surprising strength, she dragged the two back to the Office of Protocol.

The minister’s face darkened. He questioned the guards, who admitted they had suddenly collapsed.

“How strange. Likely not fainting—more like foul play.”

Shangxiang explained hurriedly, “I was nearby but saw no one suspicious. When they both collapsed, I panicked and went to fetch a doctor. I must have gotten lost in the streets, so it took longer to return.”

The minister said nothing further but dismissed Shangxiang to rest. Then he ordered the two guards: “Go to the Bureau of Measurement immediately for examination.”

“Yes, sir.”

That night, four men stood guard outside Shangxiang’s room without pause.

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