The morning after the world ended was quiet.
On the Sky-Whale Airship, cruising high above the cloud layer, the sun filtered through the curtains of the Master Suite. It illuminated the dust motes dancing in the air and the tangled sheets of the massive bed.
Princess Zhao Ling woke up.
For a split second—that cruel, fleeting moment between sleep and wakefulness—she forgot. She tried to roll over, to stretch her legs and kick off the blankets.
Her brain sent the command: Move. Her body replied: Silence.
The reality crashed down on her like a stone ceiling. The numbness from her chest down wasn't a temporary sleep paralysis. It was her life.
She let out a shaky breath, staring at the ceiling. Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them back. She had cried enough yesterday. Today, she had to figure out how to exist.
"You're awake," a sleepy voice murmured beside her.
Jiang Fan was propped up on one elbow, watching her. His hair was messy, and he looked warm and disheveled.
"I'm awake," she whispered. "And I'm... stuck."
She was tangled in the duvet. Without the ability to use her hips or legs for leverage, she couldn't easily untangle herself.
"I've got you," Jiang Fan said.
He sat up and gently pulled the heavy duvet away. He looked at her legs, pale and motionless against the dark sheets. He didn't look away. He didn't flinch.
"Bath?" he asked.
"Please," she said, her voice small. "I feel like I'm covered in the Emperor's lies."
THE RITUAL OF CARE
The bathroom on the airship was a marvel of Gu Ling's engineering, but it still required navigation.
Jiang Fan scooped the Princess up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her head resting on his shoulder. She was getting used to this—the feeling of being airborne, the reliance on his strength.
He carried her into the bathroom where the tub was already steaming. Su Qing must have been here earlier; the air smelled of eucalyptus and pain-relief salts.
Jiang Fan set her down on the velvet bench beside the tub. He knelt and began to undress her.
In the palace, servants did this. It was impersonal, efficient. With Jiang Fan, it was intimate. It was slow.
He unlaced her nightgown, peeling the silk from her skin. He checked her skin for pressure marks—a new worry she hadn't even thought of.
"Your hip is a little red," he noted, rubbing the spot gently with his thumb. "We need to get you a better cushion for the chair. Gel-infused, maybe."
"I can't feel it," she murmured, looking at the red mark. "That's terrifying, isn't it? My body could be hurting, and I wouldn't know."
"That's why I'm here," Jiang Fan said. "I'm the external sensor array."
He lifted her again and lowered her into the water.
"Tell me if it's too hot," he said, holding her by the waist as she settled.
"I... I don't know," she admitted, looking at her submerged legs. "My feet... are they burning?"
Jiang Fan dipped his own hand in, checking the water near her toes.
"It's perfect," he promised. "Warm. Safe."
He grabbed a sponge and began to wash her back. The rhythmic motion was soothing. The Princess closed her eyes, letting the heat seep into the parts of her body that still worked.
"Jiang Fan?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm never going to walk down the aisle," she whispered. "If we... if I ever marry. I can't walk to the altar."
Jiang Fan paused. He squeezed water from the sponge over her shoulders.
"Then we'll put the altar on wheels," he said calmly. "Or I'll carry you down the aisle. Or we'll just get married in bed. Who makes the rules, Ling? We do."
She turned her head to look at him. He was so unbothered by her brokenness. He treated her paralysis not as a tragedy, but as a logistical detail. A problem to be managed, like a leaky faucet or a budget report.
It was the most romantic thing she had ever experienced.
"You really are the Lazy King," she smiled weakly. "Even walking down an aisle is too much work for you?"
"Way too much cardio," he grinned, kissing her wet forehead. "Now, let's get you dried off. We have a rebellion to plan, and you need to look scary."
THE WORKSHOP
An hour later, the Princess was dressed. Jiang Fan had helped her into a sharp, military-style tunic that accommodated her seated position, abandoning the flowing ceremonial robes of the past.
Yun Xi carried her into the lower deck workshop.
"Put me down," the Princess commanded as they entered.
Yun Xi gently lowered her onto a workbench. Gu Ling spun around in her wheelchair, holding a datapad.
"Welcome back," Gu Ling said. She didn't ask 'how are you'. She knew. "I analyzed the data from the Vault. The Emperor used the Heart to overload the grid. The Capital is currently running on emergency power. We have a window."
"I don't care about the Capital right now," the Princess said, her voice hard. "I care about my mobility."
She pointed to the corner where the Golden Lotus Pod sat. It was beautiful. It was elegant. It was a flower.
"Scrap it," the Princess said.
Gu Ling blinked. "Scrap it? That unit cost twelve million gold. It has anti-gravity suspension."
"It's a toy," the Princess spat. "It floats. It wobbles. It's designed to look pretty in a throne room. I am not a flower, Gu Ling. I am a cripple leading a war against the Eternal Emperor. I don't need to float."
She looked Gu Ling in the eye.
"I need to grind."
Gu Ling's mechanical eyes widened. A slow, terrifying smile spread across her face.
"Oh," Gu Ling whispered. "I see."
She swiped her screen, deleting the Lotus blueprints. She pulled up a new file.
"Project: Iron Sovereign."
"No more anti-gravity," Gu Ling said, typing furiously. "Treads. Caterpillar tracks made of Spirit-Titanium. Heavy. Grounded. Impossible to knock over."
"Weapons?" the Princess asked.
"Hidden compartments are inefficient," Gu Ling noted. "We will mount them externally. A Spirit-Railgun on the right armrest. A shield generator on the left. And..."
Gu Ling looked at the Princess's paralyzed legs.
"...armor plating. Heavy plating covering the lower body. If you can't feel your legs, we don't need to worry about comfort. We can turn your lower half into a literal tank chassis."
"Do it," the Princess nodded. "Make me a monster."
Jiang Fan, who had been leaning against the doorframe eating an apple, spoke up.
"Can we add a cup holder?"
The Princess and Gu Ling looked at him.
"Yes," Gu Ling sighed. "I will add a cup holder."
THE WAR ROOM
By evening, the plans were drawn. The ship hovered over the Northern Badlands, a neutral zone between the Empire and the Wilds.
The team gathered around the map table.
The Princess sat at the head of the table. She wasn't in her new chair yet—it was being built—so she was strapped into a temporary frame. But her presence filled the room.
"The Emperor has the numbers," the Princess said, moving a piece on the map. "He has the Imperial Guard, the Northern Wolf remnants, and the Mages. But he has a weakness."
She pointed to the glowing red dot of the Capital.
"Jiang Fan smashed the battery."
"I did," Jiang Fan nodded. "It felt great. 10/10 would smash again."
"The Capital relies on the Dragon Heart for everything," the Princess explained. "Shields, water purification, automated defenses. Without it, they are running on reserves. They will need to secure a new power source within a week, or the city riots."
"Where do they get power?" Yun Xi asked, leaning on her mace.
"The Thunder-Peak Mines," the Princess pointed to a mountain range in the West. "It's the only place with enough raw Spirit Crystals to keep the grid online."
She looked up, her golden eyes burning.
"We aren't going to attack the Capital. That's what he expects. We are going to the Mines."
"We cut off the supply," Gu Ling realized. "We starve the city."
"Exactly," the Princess said. "We seize the Mines. We fortify them. And we watch the Emperor sit on his throne in the dark."
She turned to Jiang Fan.
"It will be a siege. We will be outnumbered. And I will need you to carry me until the War-Chair is ready."
Jiang Fan walked over to her. He put his hands on the back of her chair.
"I told you," he said, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "I'm your legs now. You just point the gun."
The Princess looked at her hands. They were steady.
She had lost her ability to walk. She had lost her father's love. She had lost her dreams of a cure.
But looking at the map—at the strategy of choking the life out of the Empire that discarded her—she felt something new.
She felt powerful.
"Set a course for Thunder-Peak," the Princess commanded. "And Yun Xi?"
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"Prepare the flag. The Sector 01 banner."
"We are raising a flag?"
"No," the Princess smiled cold and sharp. "We are planting it in the Emperor's throat."