Wei Han woke to unfamiliar surroundings for the second time in as many weeks, and the sensation filled her with immediate unease.
Her eyes snapped open, taking in the room with practiced efficiency even as her body protested the movement. Silk curtains. Carved wooden screens painted with delicate mountain landscapes. The subtle scent of expensive incense mixed with medicinal herbs. The soft morning light filtering through paper windows of the highest quality.
This was not her room. This was somewhere far more dangerous.
Her hand moved instinctively toward where her sword should be, but found only empty air and the soft fabric of bedclothes. Her heart rate picked up. Defenseless. Injured. In an unknown location.
Then her gaze fell on the figure beside the bed, and her anxiety transformed into something else entirely.
Wei Ling sat slumped in a chair pulled close to the bedside, her head resting on the edge of the bed, one hand stretched out as if she'd fallen asleep trying to hold onto something. Her cousin's face was puffy and blotched from crying, even in sleep. Dark circles shadowed her eyes.
Guilt crashed over Wei Han like a wave. I ruined it, she thought, staring at Wei Ling's exhausted face. The lantern festival. The one thing she was so excited about. The one normal, happy thing she wanted to experience, and I ruined it.
Wei Ling had asked for so little—just to see the lanterns, to eat moon cakes, to walk among the festival crowds like any other young woman. And instead, she'd ended up watching her cousin collapse from poison, crying herself to exhaustion in some palace room, festival forgotten.
I'm sorry, Wei Han thought, though she couldn't say the words aloud without waking her. I'm so sorry, Wei Ling.
As if sensing her gaze, Wei Ling stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused for a moment, then sharpening as they landed on Wei Han's face.
"Yuelai!" Wei Ling's voice cracked as she surged upward, tears already spilling down her cheeks. "You're finally awake! I was so—I thought—" Her words tumbled over each other, incoherent with relief and residual fear.
The door to the room slid open with a soft whisper of wood on wood.
Both women turned toward the sound. Prince Zhenwei stood in the doorway, his dark robes making him seem like a shadow given form. His eyes found Wei Han immediately, and something flickered in their depths—curiosity, suspicion, perhaps relief.
"You're awake," he said, his voice carrying multiple layers of meaning.
Wei Han's body tensed despite her injuries. She recognized him now, in the clear light of day, without poison clouding her mind. The second prince of Luo. The man who had nearly killed her, then saved her life. The man who had heard Wei Ling call her by her real name.
This was very, very bad.
Zhenwei moved to enter the room, then stopped himself. His gaze flicked to the cloth screen wall that divided the sleeping area from the rest of the room. After a moment's consideration, he walked around to the other side, sitting down so that the screen provided the proper barrier between them. His silhouette was visible through the translucent fabric, but the propriety was maintained.
"The imperial physician has treated your wound," he said, his tone neutral but probing. "You were very fortunate. The poison was rare and deadly."
Wei Han said nothing, watching his shadow through the screen, trying to assess what he knew, what he suspected, what he wanted.
The previous night, after Wei Han had lost consciousness in the carriage...
The palace's eastern wing had erupted into controlled chaos. Imperial physicians were summoned from their beds, servants rushed to prepare rooms, guards stationed themselves at every entrance. Princess Yanran paced anxiously in the corridor while Prince Zhenwei carried the unconscious woman inside, laying her carefully on the bed.
The head physician, an elderly man named Physician Chen, arrived within minutes, his robes hastily thrown on, his medicine box clutched in one hand. He took one look at the arrow protruding from the young woman's shoulder and his expression grew grave.
"Everyone out," he commanded, with the authority of someone who had served the imperial family for three decades. "Except for one female attendant. You—" he pointed at Wei Ling, who stood frozen by the door, "—stay."
The guards filed out. Prince Zhenwei hesitated, then complied, though he remained just outside the door. Princess Yanran clutched his arm, her face pale.
Inside, Physician Chen worked with swift efficiency. He examined the arrow, noting the black substance coating its tip, and his expression grew even more serious. With practiced hands, he removed the arrow in one smooth motion, then pressed herb-soaked cloth to the wound to stem the bleeding.
Wei Ling hovered nearby, wringing her hands. "Will she be alright? Please, you have to save her!"
The physician said nothing, focused on his examination. He checked the pulse at her wrist, pulled back her eyelids to examine her pupils, pressed his fingers against specific points on her neck .Then he noticed something—carefully, he peeled back the blood-soaked fabric around her shoulder.
"Another wound," he murmured. "Recent, perhaps two weeks old. Healing, but reopened by tonight's injury."
Wei Ling bit her lip, saying nothing.
After several tense minutes, Physician Chen straightened, his face grim. He walked to the door and slid it open. Prince Zhenwei and Princess Yanran immediately turned to him.
"How is she?" the princess asked anxiously. "Will she survive?"
"The poison," the physician said slowly, "is Heartbreak Grass extract. One of the most toxic substances known to medicine."
Wei Ling gasped from inside the room, her hand flying to her mouth. "Heartbreak Grass? But that's—that's incredibly lethal!
If she's been poisoned with that, we don't have much time!
We need to prepare the antidote immediately!"
Physician Chen nodded gravely. "You're correct, young miss.
However, the herbs required for the antidote are extremely rare and expensive. They can only be accessed by—"
"I don't care!" Princess Yanran interrupted, stepping forward with unexpected force. Her voice trembled but her eyes were fierce. "She saved my life tonight. She took that arrow for me.
You will save her life, no matter what herbs are needed, no matter how expensive they are. Prepare the antidote. That's a command."
The physician blinked in surprise at the usually gentle princess's vehemence. Then he bowed deeply. "As you command, Your Highness."
He turned to go, but Prince Zhenwei's voice stopped him. "Physician Chen. A word in private, if you please."
The princess started to protest, but Zhenwei placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Wait here, Yanran. I'll return shortly."
He led the physician down the corridor and into a small side room, closing the door behind them. Once they were alone, his expression became cold, calculating—the face of a general, not a concerned brother.
"Tell me everything," he said quietly. "And I mean everything."
Physician Chen hesitated, then spoke in a low voice. "The poison itself is highly significant, Your Highness. Heartbreak Grass is not something that can be obtained easily. It's highly controlled, expensive, and difficult to process. This wasn't a random attack—whoever arranged this had substantial resources."
"And the lady." Zhenwei's eyes were sharp. "What else?"
"The woman..." The physician paused, clearly uncomfortable.
"Speak freely," Zhenwei commanded.
"She is no ordinary person, Your Highness. The previous arrow wound—it was deep, the kind inflicted in combat. The way it's healing suggests she's received some treatment, but not consistent care. And her hands..." He shook his head. "I noticed calluses consistent with extensive sword training. This is not a sheltered noble's daughter."
Zhenwei absorbed this information silently. After a moment, he nodded. "You may go. Prepare the antidote. And Physician Chen—this conversation remains between us."
"Of course, Your Highness."
After the physician left, Zhenwei stood alone in the small room, thinking. Then he opened the door and gestured to one of his personal guards—a man named Zhou, who had served him throughout the war.
"I need you to investigate someone," Zhenwei said quietly. "A young woman, possibly connected to the Wei family based on her companion's behavior. I want to know everything—who she is, where she came from, why she's in the capital. Be discreet."
Zhou bowed. "It will be done, Your Highness."
Four hours later, as dawn began to paint the eastern sky pale gold, Zhou returned.
Zhenwei had remained in the corridor the entire night,
despite Princess Yanran finally being persuaded to rest in an adjacent room. He looked up as his guard approached.
"Report," he said simply.
"She is Wei Ling, daughter of General Wei," Zhou said quietly.
"She came to the capital two weeks ago to stay with her cousin, who was recently appointed as Military Inspector by His Majesty. According to the records, she's been living at the Military Inspector's residence since her arrival."
Zhenwei's eyes narrowed. "Wei Han. The new inspector."
"Yes, Your Highness. The general's son has a... complicated reputation. Excellent military record during the western campaign, but there are rumors of unusual behavior. Some say he's too young for such a position, that it was granted due to his father's influence rather than merit. And recently he raided ministry of Revenue with Prince zhenge. "
"And the girl inside? What else did you learn about her?"
Zhou hesitated. "Very little, Your Highness. She rarely leaves the residence.
"Nothing suspicious," Zhenwei repeated, his tone making it clear he found that highly suspicious in itself. "A general's daughter who moves like a trained warrior, who received a combat wound two weeks ago, who somehow knew an assassination attempt was coming before it happened."
"Your Highness?"
"The way she moved last night—she knew. She saw the archer before I did, positioned herself to intercept. Those aren't the instincts of a sheltered young woman." Zhenwei's expression was thoughtful. "Something doesn't add up."
"Shall I continue investigating?"
"Yes. Quietly. And keep watch on the Military Inspector's residence as well. I want to know who comes and goes, particularly any visitors to Wei Han himself."
Zhou bowed and departed. Zhenwei remained in the corridor, staring at the door behind which the mysterious woman slept, his mind working through possibilities and contradictions.
"Who are you really?" he murmured to the empty hallway.
Now, in the present moment, Wei Han sat in that same bed, acutely aware of Prince Zhenwei's presence on the other side of the screen. She could feel his gaze even through the barrier, assessing, questioning.
"Can you tell me what exactly happened yesterday?" His voice was conversational, almost casual, but Wei Han wasn't fooled. "And who you are? It will help in investigating yesterday's events."
Wei Han's mind raced despite the lingering fog of poison and pain. She didn't know this was the second prince—her memories of last night were hazy, fragmented. She remembered the arrow, remembered fighting, remembered falling. But she'd been too affected by the poison to properly register who had caught her, who had brought her here.
Now, facing interrogation from royalty, trapped in the palace, her identity already partially exposed... this was exactly what she'd been trying to avoid.
She could see only one path forward. Lying would make him more suspicious—he was clearly intelligent, clearly trained in reading people. But she could give him truth. Just not all of it.
Wei Han bowed her head respectfully, though he couldn't see the gesture through the screen. "This humble woman greets Your Highness. Please forgive my impropriety in remaining in bed, but I fear I cannot yet stand."
"Your condition excuses all impropriety," Zhenwei replied.
"Please, speak freely."
"I am Wei Ling," she said, the false name feeling heavy on her tongue. Wei Ling, sitting beside her, stiffened slightly but said nothing. "Daughter of General Wei. I came to the capital two weeks ago to stay with my cousin, the Military Inspector."
"I see. And what happened at the festival?"
Wei Han took a careful breath, organizing her thoughts. I can't lie to him about this. He'll investigate. He probably already has. But I can frame the truth in a way that protects my real identity.
"I must ask for Your Highness's forgiveness," she said, and the regret in her voice was genuine. "That arrow was originally meant for me. The princess walked into its path at the same moment. That's why I intercepted it. Please forgive me for causing such trouble, and for putting Her Highness in danger due to my presence."
There was a long silence from the other side of the screen.
When Zhenwei spoke again, his voice was sharp with interest. "Can you tell me why they would target you?
Someone who has just come to the capital? And how are you so certain it was meant for you and not my sister?"
"Because I saw him," Wei Han said simply. "The person in black, on the rooftop behind me. He was targeting me specifically—I felt his gaze, saw the angle of his aim. As for why..." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "In truth, it was probably not meant for me, but for my brother. They must have mistaken me for him in my disguise."
It was a good lie—close enough to truth that it would be difficult to disprove, logical enough to explain an assassination attempt without revealing too much.
Prince Zhenwei stood. Wei Han could see his shadow rising through the screen, could hear the rustle of his robes. For a moment, she tensed, wondering if he'd reject her explanation, if he'd press harder.
But instead, he walked toward the door. "Rest," he said.
"You've been through an ordeal. We will speak more later."
He slid the door open—and stopped.
Princess Yanran stood in the corridor, clearly having been waiting there for some time. Her face lit up with relief when she saw her brother emerge.
"Is she awake? Can I see her? Is she alright?"
Zhenwei stepped aside. "She's awake. Be gentle—she's still weak."
Yanran needed no further permission. She rushed past her brother into the room, her face bright with genuine concern and gratitude. "Miss Wei! You're awake! Oh, thank the heavens! How are you feeling? Does your shoulder hurt terribly? I've been so worried—"
Wei Han found herself staring at the princess in surprise. The genuine care in her voice, the tears gathering in her eyes—this wasn't the formal gratitude of nobility. This was real emotion.
"Your Highness," Wei Han managed, trying to bow despite lying in bed. "Please, don't trouble yourself—"
"Don't trouble myself?" Yanran laughed, though it was shaky.
"You saved my life! You took a poisoned arrow for me! If you hadn't pushed me aside, I would be..." She couldn't finish the sentence, her voice breaking.
Outside in the corridor, Prince Zhenwei walked away from the room, his guard Zhou falling into step beside him.
"Her statement matches the assassin's," Zhou reported quietly.
Zhenwei's eyebrows rose fractionally. "The assassin? You caught him?"
"Shortly after we arrived at the palace last night. He attempted to flee the festival grounds but was intercepted by your order."
"Good. Where is he now?"
"The interrogation chamber in the eastern wing. Awaiting your attention."
Zhenwei's expression hardened. "Then let's not keep him waiting."
The interrogation chamber was exactly what its name suggested—a sparse, windowless room in the bowels of the palace's eastern wing. The man kneeling in the center looked considerably worse for wear, his clothes torn, blood seeping from various cuts and bruises. The palace interrogators were efficient, if brutal.
Prince Zhenwei entered, and the assassin's head jerked up, his eyes widening with fear.
"Your Highness—"
"You have five minutes," Zhenwei said coldly, settling into a chair that one of the guards had positioned for him. "Five minutes to tell me every detail about who sent you to shoot the princess, and whether the person who was shot was part of your plan. After that, my patience ends, and the interrogators return. I suggest you use your time wisely."
The man's face went pale. "Please, Your Highness, have mercy! I'm telling you the truth—the arrow was never meant for the princess! It was meant for that person in black, I swear it!"
"The person in black," Zhenwei repeated, his voice dangerously soft. "You mean Wei Ling. The daughter of General Wei."
The assassin's expression transformed into complete confusion and surprise. "Wei Ling? No, no, Your Highness, it was never meant for Wei Ling! It was meant for Wei Han! I didn't know it was his sister in those black clothes, or I would never have shot! Please, Your Highness, you have to believe me! I would never target a woman, especially not General Wei's daughter! Please have mercy!"
The room fell silent.
Zhenwei leaned forward slowly, his eyes locked on the assassin's face. The man was genuinely confused—that much was clear. He truly believed he'd been sent to kill the Military Inspector, not his sister.
"So it was never meant for her," Zhenwei said quietly, more to himself than to the prisoner. "But for her brother." He paused. "Who sent you?"
The assassin's face crumbled. He sagged forward, pressing his forehead to the cold stone floor. "Please, Your Highness, I have family—children—if they find out I told you, they'll—"
"Your family will be protected if you cooperate," Zhenwei said. "They will suffer greatly if you don't. Choose quickly."
A long moment passed. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper: "It was... it was Minister Xiao. The Minister of Revenue."
The name hung in the air like smoke.
Zhenwei's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. Minister Xiao. The older brother of Prime Minister Xiao, one of the most powerful men in the empire. The minister who controlled the kingdom's finances, who had connections throughout the government and beyond.
A slow, cold smile spread across Zhenwei's face.
"Minister Xiao," he repeated softly. "The brother of the Prime Minister himself. How interesting."
He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his robes. The assassin looked up at him with desperate hope.
"Your Highness? What... what will happen to me?"
Zhenwei looked down at him with empty eyes. "You attempted to assassinate a member of the imperial family. You failed, but not through any restraint of your own. The penalty for such an attempt is death."
"But Your Highness, I told you everything! You said—"
"I said your family would be protected if you cooperated."
Zhenwei turned toward the door. "And they will be. You have my word. But you?" He glanced back over his shoulder. "You fired an arrow at a crowded festival, knowing innocent people might be hit. You used poison that nearly killed my sister's savior. Your cooperation earns you a quick death instead of a slow one. Be grateful for that mercy."
He walked to the door, then paused. His guard Zhou stood waiting in the corridor.
"You know what to do with an assassin," Zhenwei said quietly.
Zhou bowed. "Yes, Your Highness."
As the door closed behind him, cutting off the assassin's pleas for mercy, Prince Zhenwei stood in the empty corridor, his mind already working through the implications of what he'd learned.
Minister Xiao had tried to assassinate the Military Inspector.
The question was why—and whether it connected to the larger web of corruption and conspiracy that Zhenwei had been quietly investigating since his return from war.
More importantly, there was the matter of Wei Ling's statement. She'd said the arrow was meant for her brother, that the assassin had mistaken her for him. The assassin had confirmed this—he'd targeted someone he believed to be Wei Han, not knowing it was actually Wei Ling in disguise.
Except that didn't quite add up, did it?
Why would General Wei's daughter have the reflexes of a trained warrior, the instinct to sense danger before it struck?
And why, when that companion had cried out in panic, had she called her "Yuelai"?
Zhenwei's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. There was a mystery here—layers upon layers of deception and hidden truth. The girl in that room wasn't who she claimed to be. He was certain of it now.
But she had saved his sister's life. For that alone, she deserved his protection, at least until he understood what was really happening.
He would have the truth eventually. Prince Zhenwei was nothing if not patient. And in the meantime, he would use this information about Minister Xiao very carefully. The Minister of Revenue had just made a fatal mistake—he'd revealed himself as an enemy.
And Prince Zhenwei had learned long ago, in the brutal crucible of war, exactly how to deal with enemies.
A cold smile touched his lips as he walked away from the interrogation chamber, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.
END OF CHAPTER 16