Morning slid into the palace like a hush after a storm. Lotus petals drifted across the courtyard, carried by a breeze that tasted faintly of approaching winter. Jiao Shui stood beneath the jade-draped veranda, fingers curled lightly around the cool wooden railing. She had slept little. How could she, after Song Lingfang's confession — spoken not aloud, but in the way his fingertips trembled near hers — and the ominous arrival of Prince Yang's informants?
Footsteps approached. Silent, practiced, and heavy with unspoken restraint.Song Lingfang.
He stopped beside her but didn't look directly at her. His gaze traced the horizon instead, as if he feared that one glance at her would burn straight through the fragile control he carried.
"Your qi has shifted," he said softly. "You're hiding something."
Jiao Shui's pulse scattered like startled birds. Of course he sensed it. Their connection had always been a quiet thread humming beneath the noise of duty.But she had no luxury to unravel it now.
"It's nothing," she murmured.
"That word is the palace's favorite lie." He finally turned to her. "And yours."
Before she could respond, the jade curtain behind them shivered. Prince Yang appeared, flanked by two guards. His presence warped the air; even the morning light seemed to hesitate around him.
"Ah," he said, voice silk stretched over steel. "My two favorite secrets standing together. How poetic."
Song Lingfang stepped forward, placing himself between Jiao Shui and the prince with the fluid precision of a blade finding its mark.
"I wasn't aware we were expected," Song said, tone respectful but edged.
Prince Yang's smile curved like a knife.
"Everything you do is expected."
He walked closer, eyes flicking to Jiao Shui with a hunger that made the back of her neck tighten. "A little bird tells me someone has been looking into matters that do not concern them. Dangerous matters."
Jiao Shui kept her face serene, but inside she felt the ripple — Shenzha Jao's scroll, the forbidden records she'd uncovered, the shadowed truth surrounding her previous death.If Yang knew even a sliver—
Song Lingfang's voice cut through her spiral. "If you're accusing her of wrongdoing, accuse me as well. We act together."
Prince Yang's eyebrow arched, amused. "How devoted you are. Yet devotion has a way of burying men alive."
He stepped closer to Jiao Shui, fingers lifting a strand of her midnight hair — a gesture so intimate it made her blood chill.
"Tell me, little flame," he whispered, "does he know what you are? What you once were?"
Song Lingfang stiffened. "Enough."
Prince Yang leaned back, satisfied. "I will summon you both at dusk. There is… an announcement." His smirk deepened. "Dress beautifully, Jiao Shui. It will be a night to remember."
When he left, the air finally exhaled.
Jiao Shui clutched the railing, breath trembling. Song Lingfang turned to her, jaw tight, voice roughened.
"What did he mean? What is he hinting at?"
Her throat locked. The truth lay coiled beneath her ribs like a viper — her rebirth, her past death, the prophecy tied to her blood.
If she told him now, she risked everything.If she didn't, she risked losing him.
"Lingfang…" Her voice was a fragile thread. "There are things I need to reveal. But not here."
He stepped closer, his presence wrapping around her like quiet armor. "Then I'll wait. No matter the storm behind your eyes… I'll wait."
But beneath his vow, she sensed it — the faint tremor of fear that the truth might break them.
And far beyond the courtyard, Prince Yang lingered in the shadows, smiling as if he already knew how tonight would end.