The palace was quiet in that eerie, velvet way that hinted at storms in the rafters. Moonlight spilled across the Dragon Hall, carving pale rivers over gold tiles. And there, planted in the center like a tiny, stubborn willow branch, stood Jiao Shui.
She had been summoned.
Not politely.
More like scooped up by imperial guards who looked alarmingly comfortable dragging people off to their doom.
She smoothed her robe, lifted her chin, and willed her heartbeat to stop sounding like festival drums. The Emperor sat on his throne, gaze sharp enough to slice bamboo. A hundred court officials lined the room like carved statues. None dared breathe loudly.
Song Lingfang stood behind her, hands folded, expression calm but coiled. Prince Yang lounged nearby, looking too entertained for anyone's safety.
Jiao Shui bowed.
"Rise," the Emperor said, voice laced with frost. "We have… concerns."
A respectful silence spread.
Then the Emperor leaned forward, eyes narrowing."Lady Jiao Shui… are you… mentally sound?"
The entire hall froze.
A minister dropped his scroll. Someone coughed in terror.
Jiao Shui blinked.
The Emperor continued, "Reports have reached us that you have been seen conversing animatedly with the air, laughing at walls, and holding full arguments with trees."
Song Lingfang's jaw tightened.
Prince Yang nearly choked trying not to laugh.
Jiao Shui, mortified, cleared her throat. "Your Majesty… I was not speaking to the air."
The Emperor arched a regal brow. "Then to whom?"
A pause.
Then she regretfully said it."My two friends."
"Friends?" the Emperor echoed.
"Yes. They are… invisible."
A ripple of horror shot through the court like wind across lotus ponds.
Song Lingfang whispered sharply, "Jiao Shui—"
But she had already committed to the cliff.
"They are spirits, Your Majesty. They are part of my cultivation. I am not insane."
The Emperor stared.
Prince Yang stared.
Lingfang stared.
The entire royal court stared.
And then… the Emperor rubbed his temples with the exhaustion of a man who had long outlived the nonsense quota for one lifetime.
"Are these spirits here… now?" he asked.
Before she could answer, something cold flickered behind him. One of the spirit twins—gleeful troublemaker that he was—blew across the Emperor's neck.
The Emperor shivered.
Prince Yang's eyes widened.
Song Lingfang muttered a prayer to every ancestor available.
Jiao Shui pressed her palms together. "They are saying hello."
The Emperor went still. Slowly. Painfully.
Then said, voice taut, "Lady Jiao Shui… leave. Immediately. Before the palace spirits join your… little gatherings."
She bowed so fast her spine popped and fled the hall, dragging Song Lingfang with her while Prince Yang followed with the grin of a wolf who had just discovered fire.
Outside, Lingfang whispered urgently, "Why would you tell him that?"
She whispered back, "Because lying would've made things worse!"
Prince Yang appeared beside them like a smug shadow. "No, sweetheart. This made it infinitely worse."
Jiao Shui groaned into her hands.
And high above them, on the roof beams, the two spirit twins twirled with laughter.
The Emperor did not sleep that night.
Because the palace had officially gained its first haunted consort candidate.
Jiao Shui.
And the cracks in destiny widened just a bit more.
Cliffhanger:As dawn touches the palace roofs, a messenger bursts into the East Wing with a decree that will drag Jiao Shui into her first deadly royal trial.A trial designed by Prince Yang himself.
"Lady Jiao Shui is to participate… immediately."