99 Gifts, On the Eve of the Banquet

A small private plane in violet color sliced through the azure sky, trailing a streak of purple light before vanishing like a shooting star. Outside the cabin, clusters of pure white clouds gathered like tempting cotton beaches, drifting endlessly before Ying Yue's eyes, irresistibly charming.

In the spacious and comfortable cabin, every necessary or backup facility was present, all chosen in violet to match Ying Yue's preferences. She gazed at the interior as if immersed in a sea of violet flowers, her brows and eyes curving with delight.

Xiahou Yu observed her joyful expression and smiled himself. He turned, retrieving a jewelry box of velvet from the suitcase, also in violet.

"Ying Yue, look—" his voice brimmed with joy as he offered the box. On its cover were four gold-embossed characters: Roland's Heart.

Ying Yue accepted it and gently opened the lid. Resting on black velvet was a bracelet of distinctive design, strung with violet flowers. At its center lay a larger purple bloom, its heart a honey-toned cat's eye stone whose golden glow dazzled the eyes. Encircling it was a ring of sky-blue violets, forming a halo like stars attending the moon. Ten violet flowers adorned the bracelet in total, each fashioned from diamonds yet varied in styling to captivate. A slender white gold chain trailed below, though subdued in appearance.

Ying Yue noticed the nine sky-blue violets and paused. "Why sky blue?" she asked, glancing at Xiahou Yu. "You know I prefer purple."

Xiahou Yu's heart twisted with bitterness, yet he chuckled softly. "All purple would be monotonous. A touch of blue would look better, wouldn't it?" He spoke while cursing the bracelet maker inwardly: a man forever reminding the world of his existence!

Ying Yue stared at the sky-blue flower, involuntarily recalling those eyes brimming with seductive amusement. Her fingers brushed its petals, the same intoxicating blue.

Across the world, in a study, a tall and slender man sat motionless behind the desk. Sunlight caressed his back, gilding his golden hair with metallic sheen as he examined the computer screen alive with shifting data. Slender fingers rubbed together; once-pale skin bore faint knife scars and burn marks. Rose-tinted lips curved upward, yet his gaze held an elusive tension.

Will you like it?

To spare Ying Yue further questions, Xiahou Yu swiftly withdrew the bracelet. "Ying Yue, let me fasten it." With meticulous care he slipped it onto her fair wrist, where it sparkled vividly. "It suits you perfectly." He spoke with sincere conviction.

Ying Yue regarded the bracelet that gleamed brighter on her skin, her lips curving gently. "It is exquisite."

Xiahou Yu's heart whispered only one word: worth every coin.

"Yu, explain its use."

"Very well. This white gold chain serves as the switch. A gentle pull activates the cat's eye stone at the purple flower’s heart, unleashing a brilliant light that blinds the retina for roughly ten minutes. Each surrounding bloom conceals a needle tipped with high-concentration anesthetic. Pulling the chain fires it, beginning at the leftmost flower and continuing with each pull, paralyzing the target for half an hour—ample time to flee. The needles dissolve on skin contact without trace. The central cat's eye stone rotates two turns right to emit a signal locating your position. Use it only at the critical moment."

The violet plane descended slowly onto Westris Island.

The cabin door swung open to the right, admitting a breathtaking vista that flooded Ying Yue and Xiahou Yu's senses: boundless blue, sky-blue, sea-blue. White clouds drifted across the radiant sky while clean sea breezes carried a fresh, oceanic tang that refreshed the body.

Ying Yue closed her eyes, arms outstretched, inhaling deeply, as though enveloped in cool seawater.

Xiahou Yu surveyed the island's emerald forests, small creatures darting between trees. Sapphire skies shimmered overhead with stray clouds, soft white sand cushioned their feet. Nearby sea lions and seals basked on the beach, their plump bodies rolling playfully. Sea turtles labored to deposit eggs into sand heaps. Farther out, the endless deep blue sea hosted seagulls wheeling in flocks or pairs, dolphins leaping in synchronized grace, and occasional fish breaking the surface only to vanish beneath swift beaks.

Westris Island occupied a remote sea tract distant from Australia, its diminutive size and isolation preserving its untouched splendor. May their presence not disturb the living things within.

"Ying Yue, let's set our things down." Xiahou Yu addressed her still-enchanted form, gesturing toward a row of simple white wooden cottages nearby.

Ying Yue turned, captivated at once, and without a word ran toward them alone.

"Ying Yue, slowly—" Xiahou Yu followed, cautioning her steps. His words had scarcely faded when she stumbled and pitched headlong into the sand. Xiahou Yu abandoned the luggage and rushed to her side, hauling her upright. "Pfft—" He could not restrain his laughter, eyes sparkling like ink. "Ying Yue... you... ha ha..."

Her head and face gleamed with sand, her once-radiant features resembling a peeled potato shedding grains, her glossy black hair dusted white.

Ying Yue glared in sullen silence, turning her face from him to vent her irritation alone.

Xiahou Yu ceased smiling to appease her. While dusting sand from her hair, he helped her rise. Suddenly, as he bent to brush her shoulders, they shook violently.

Ying Yue inquired, "Yu, what troubles you?"

His trembling grew more violent, yet he kept his head lowered. Curious, she peered down and recoiled.

"Ha ha ha—" Xiahou Yu burst into louder mirth, black eyes glittering.

A palm-sized sea turtle lay overturned from her fall, four legs kicking futilely to right itself, neck twisting as though seeking the culprit.

"Ha ha—" Ying Yue could not hold back and laughed as well.

On the pristine beach, a tall man and petite woman bent double, shoulders quaking with laughter that echoed across the quiet island, scattering sunbathers and sending "plop plop" ripples through the surf.

British Luxury Villa

"Your Highness, Her Majesty the Queen has sent this invitation." The butler presented a golden envelope wrapped in white gloves with reverent poise.

Arthur reclined in white casual attire, utterly at ease on the sofa. His slender fingers accepted the envelope, opened it with elegance, and extracted the matching golden card. A cursory glance revealed its contents, and a wicked smile curved his lips as he addressed the butler. "Prepare a gift befitting Her Majesty the Queen. The palace will hold a banquet the day after tomorrow."

"Yes, Your Highness." The butler replied, but the words were cut short.

"Arthur—" Maria swept in like a tempest. In emerald silk, her fair complexion rendered her dazzlingly youthful, her emerald eyes gleaming with predatory brilliance beneath the fabric.

The butler recoiled at her charge, retreating two steps.

Arthur rose swiftly; Maria missed her footing and tumbled into the sofa.

"Arthur—" she pouted, "how could you allow me to fall so clumsily? You've ruined my carefully styled hair!" She spun, only to discover her once-perfect locks now tangled like a bird's nest, her once-fashionable allure diminished.

The butler lowered his head, shoulders quivering.

Arthur regarded her with cool detachment. "What urgent matter brings you here?"

Maria straightened at once, arranging her disheveled tresses, then lifted her gaze with shy embarrassment. "Arthur, you received the queen's invitation, didn't you?"

He offered no reply, staring as though she were irrelevant. Maria bit her lip until it stung, eyes glistening, then forced a smile and rose again. "I received it too. I wish you to choose an appropriate gown for me."

"Only that?" Maria pressed when his disinterest became apparent, sensing refusal. "This banquet is momentous. Her Majesty has gathered dignitaries and foreign envoys. It offers us a public declaration of our status. You would not wish to embarrass me, your partner, would you?"

Arthur rose and walked toward the villa's exit. "You are choosing a gown? Then follow."

Maria's face blossomed like dawn, and she hurried to keep pace.

A brilliantly lit salon

Arthur sat on the sofa, idly perusing fashion magazines. The white casual suit lent him an unmistakable air of nobility. Golden hair brushed his shoulders, its sheen wickedly seductive against the crisp fabric.

A short distance away, the staff clustered in twos and threes, whispering.

"Oh God, how can such a perfect man exist?" one exclaimed.

"He is the living David of Michelangelo," another murmured, eyes glazed. "That chest rising beneath the white shirt, those legs encased in white trousers." A third service member drooled openly, oblivious to the spectacle.