By the time the palace bells rang to signal the opening of court, Liu Lanzhi was already awake.
She had been awake for a long while.
The inner chamber was quiet, the kind of quiet that only existed in places where servants had been trained to move without sound. Pale morning light filtered through the lattice windows, catching on silk curtains and polished wood. The scent of medicinal herbs still lingered faintly in the air, sharp beneath the sweeter fragrance the maids had burned earlier to mask it.
Her body reminded her—constantly—of what had been done to it.
When she shifted her weight, pain bloomed along her ribs, dull and deep. Her right shoulder protested as she reached for the edge of the bed, and the lingering ache behind her temple pulsed in time with her heartbeat. The physicians had done their work well enough to keep her alive, but they had not erased the damage.
Nor were they meant to.
Imperial medicine was never given freely.
Liu Lanzhi sat still for a moment, breathing evenly until the worst of the dizziness passed. Only then did she rise.
Two palace maids entered shortly after, their movements synchronized, their expressions carefully blank. Both knelt the moment they crossed the threshold.
"Your Highness, the Third Princess," one of them said. "We are here to assist you in preparing for court."
Court.
The word carried weight.
Liu Lanzhi looked at them closely. She recognized both faces. In her previous life, these women had been strangers—interchangeable, forgettable. Now, memory supplied names, habits, futures.
One of them would speak too much.
The other would listen too closely.
"Come closer," Liu Lanzhi said.
Her voice was calm, but not warm.
They obeyed.
As they helped her wash and dress, Liu Lanzhi allowed herself to lean only when necessary, timing each movement carefully. Too much independence would invite suspicion. Too much weakness would invite control.
The silk robe chosen for her was pale, almost austere, its long sleeves hiding the faint outline of bandages beneath. When the maids fastened the sash at her waist, the pressure made her breath catch for half a heartbeat.
She did not let it show.
"His Highness ordered that you be dressed plainly," one maid said quietly, eyes lowered. "So as not to draw undue attention."
Plainly, Liu Lanzhi thought.
There was nothing plain about being paraded before the court as a conquered princess whose fate remained undecided.
"That is appropriate," Liu Lanzhi replied.
As the final touches were made—her hair arranged simply, no ornaments beyond a single jade pin—she caught her reflection in the mirror. The face that stared back at her was pale but composed, her expression smooth, her eyes steady.
No scars.
No blood.
No visible proof of how close she had come to dying.
Only those who knew where to look would see the truth.
When the preparations were finished, the maids stepped back. One of them hesitated, then spoke. "Your Highness… the court hall is large. If you feel unwell—"
"I will walk," Liu Lanzhi said.
The maid bowed quickly, chastened.
Liu Lanzhi stepped into the corridor.
The distance from her residence to the main court hall was not short. The path moved through covered walkways and open courtyards. The stone under her feet was still wet from the storm the night before. Guards stood at regular intervals, their armor shining in the morning light.
She measured each step.
She counted them silently.
Pain flared, receded, flared again. By the time the towering doors of the court hall came into view, a thin sheen of sweat had formed beneath her collar. She welcomed the sensation. It grounded her, kept her present.
The doors opened.
Sound rushed out to meet her—voices layered atop one another, the low hum of politics and power. Conversation faltered as she crossed the threshold.
The announcement echoed clearly through the hall.
"Her Highness, the Third Princess of the Northern Lands."
Liu Lanzhi stepped inside.
The court hall was vast, its ceiling supported by towering pillars carved with dragons coiling upward toward the rafters. Light streamed in through high windows, illuminating the polished stone floor and the rows of officials standing in formal formation.
Every eye turned toward her.
Some gazes were sharp with curiosity. Others were openly cold. A few lingered too long, calculating, already weighing her value and her vulnerability.
She walked forward alone.
Each step echoed.
At the far end of the hall, elevated above the rest, Yun Qingyu sat in silence.
He did not move as she approached. His posture was relaxed, one arm resting lightly against the arm of his seat. He wore formal robes today, the black fabric edged in gold thread that marked his status unmistakably.
From where she stood, Liu Lanzhi could feel his gaze on her.
She stopped at the designated point and bowed.
Not deeply.
Enough to show respect. Not enough to humble herself.
"Greetings to His Highness the Crown Prince," she said clearly. "Greetings to the esteemed ministers."
A ripple of reaction passed through the court.
She straightened slowly, aware of the strain it placed on her back. The pain sharpened briefly, then dulled. She kept her expression neutral.
The Prime Minister stepped forward with his hands together. "Your Highness the Third Princess, welcome to the court of the Scarlet Dragon Empire."
He spoke politely.
But his tone was not friendly.
Before Liu Lanzhi could reply, Yun Qingyu added,
"The Third Princess will stay in the palace," he said clearly. "As an honored guest."
Guest.
The crowd started to whisper immediately.
"Her status is under my protection," Yun Qingyu continued. "Any offense directed toward her will be regarded as an offense against the Crown Prince."
Silence fell.
The message was unmistakable.
Liu Lanzhi lowered her gaze slightly. "This princess understands."
Her voice did not waver, though standing still had become a quiet trial of endurance. She shifted her weight subtly, adjusting her stance to ease the pressure on her ribs.
Yun Qingyu noticed.
She was certain of it.
The court session proceeded.
Reports were given. People raised issues. Decisions were delayed or made with uncertain authority. Through it all, Liu Lanzhi stood still.
Time felt very long.
With each passing moment, she focused on three things: the pain in her body, her breathing, and the gazes on her.
Some officials looked at her often, their interest sharpening when they noticed the slight tightness at her mouth. Others chose to ignore her, as if she were an unwanted object they hoped would disappear if they didn't acknowledge her.
She noted everyone.
By the time the last issue was discussed, her legs shook slightly under her robes. She did not let herself lean or move again.
At last, Yun Qingyu rose.
The court bowed as one.
"You are dismissed," he said.
The hall exhaled.
As officials began to file out, their voices rose again, no longer restrained by formality. Liu Lanzhi remained where she was, waiting.
Yun Qingyu descended from the dais and passed her without a glance.
"Come," he said.
She followed.
They moved through a side corridor, the sounds of the court fading behind them. The space narrowed, the high ceiling giving way to carved beams overhead. Guards remained at a distance, close enough to observe, far enough not to intrude.
Only when they reached a quiet pavilion overlooking a rain-washed garden did Yun Qingyu stop.
"You should not have stood that long," he said.
It was not a reprimand.
Nor was it concern.
"It would have drawn attention if I hadn't," Liu Lanzhi replied.
He turned to face her fully now, his gaze sweeping over her with the same precision he brought to the battlefield.
"You are still injured," he said.
"Yes."
No denial. No embellishment.
"Why hide it?"
"Because weakness invites interference," she answered. "And interference invites chaos."
Silence stretched between them.
She met his cold, assessing gaze without flinching.
"You understand how the court works," Yun Qingyu said at last.
"I understand how people work," Liu Lanzhi replied.
His eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, but thought.
"You will be excused from standing court until the physicians deem you recovered," he said. "But your presence will continue to be required."
"I understand."
He held her gaze for a moment longer, then turned away.
As his footsteps receded, Liu Lanzhi finally allowed herself to exhale fully.
As soon as he left, she felt weak and nearly fell. She reached for the stone railing of the pavilion and held on tightly until the shaking stopped. The cool surface pressed into her hand, giving her some stability.
So this is how they will test me, she thought.
When she got back to her residence later that day, the whispers followed her.
Servants bowed more carefully than before. Some didn't even look at her. Somewhere in the palace, stories were already starting—about the calm Northern princess, about the crown prince's interest in her, and about what her presence might mean.
Liu Lanzhi sat by the window as dusk fell, reflecting on the day's events.
In her previous life, the court had crushed her before she ever learned how to stand within it.
This time, even wounded, she had endured their scrutiny.
A faint smile curved her lips.
Let them watch.
She would give them much to see.