Dusk wrapped the palace in a copper glow, soft yet foreboding. Lanterns flickered to life one by one, as if the entire kingdom held its breath for the night Prince Yang had promised. Jiao Shui stood in her chamber before a bronze mirror polished to moonlike clarity.
A handmaiden fastened the final knot of her sash. Red silk shimmered like smoldering embers along her figure. Too extravagant. Too revealing. Too much like something Prince Yang would choose if he could drape himself across her fate.
Jiao Shui's pulse beat sharp in her throat.This gathering, whatever it was, felt wrong. It carried the weight of her past life, the echo of a memory she still couldn't grasp fully.
A soft knock broke her thoughts.
She opened the door, and there he was.
Song Lingfang.
He wore deep indigo robes that drew out the silver in his eyes. But the stoic warrior facade he usually carried had cracked slightly — for the first time, he looked… shaken. As if seeing her stole the breath from his lungs.
"You're…" His words faltered, caught between admiration and fear. "Beautiful. And in danger."
Before she could respond, he stepped inside and slid the door shut. The room tightened around their shared silence.
"I won't let him corner you today," he said, voice low, steady. "Whatever he plans — you won't face it alone."
Her heart stung. Song Lingfang always spoke like someone ready to bleed quietly for others. But this time, she needed him to survive, not sacrifice himself.
"Lingfang… if something happens tonight, you must not act recklessly. Promise me."
A storm flashed through his eyes. "I can't promise restraint while he threatens you."
"It's not about restraint. It's about the truth." Her fingers drifted toward him, stopping inches from his chest. "I need you alive to hear it."
Something flickered in him — hope, fear, yearning — all tangled.
But before either could say more, a gong reverberated through the palace.The summons.
The two made their way through the lantern-lit corridors, their steps in quiet unison. Servants bowed stiffly as if the air itself pressed them down. Whispers flitted like restless spirits around the courtyard edges.
When they entered the Hall of Celestial Echoes, Jiao Shui felt a cold thread pull tight in her stomach.
Prince Yang stood at the center, draped in midnight silk embroidered with gold serpents. Behind him, nobles formed a semi-circle, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and concealed dread.
At the sight of Jiao Shui, Prince Yang's gaze sharpened, almost luminous.Possessive. Triumphant.
"Good," he said. "The phoenix and her shadow have arrived."
Song Lingfang stepped protectively closer to her. "State your purpose."
Prince Yang lifted a scroll with deliberate slowness, as though unveiling the fate of a nation.
"Tonight," he said, "I reveal a truth long buried… the identity of the woman standing before us."
A murmur rippled through the nobles.
Jiao Shui's chest tightened. Her rebirth. Her past death. Her connection to the ancient divine line. If he exposed any of it here, everything she had tried to hide would erupt like wildfire through the empire.
But then Prince Yang's smile stretched into something sharper.
"And," he continued, "I announce an imperial decree that will bind our futures in ways none of you expect."
The hall seemed to tilt.
"Jiao Shui," he called, voice curling around her name, "step forward."
Song Lingfang's hand brushed hers — a wordless plea, a warning, a vow all at once.
Jiao Shui inhaled, steadied herself, and stepped into the circle of lantern light…aware that whatever came next could tear apart every thread she'd woven since her return to life.