Night folded itself around the palace like a velvet shroud as Jiao Shui and Song Lingfang walked through the quiet corridors. The further they went from the hall, the more the weight of everything pressed on her — the decree, the Emperor's impossible recognition, Prince Yang's coiled fury.
At last, they reached her chambers.
Song Lingfang lingered at the doorway, lit by the soft sway of a lantern. His voice came low but steady.
"Jiao Shui… there's something I noticed tonight."
She paused, fingers brushing the edge of the doorframe. "What is it?"
"When the Emperor looked at you… it wasn't confusion. It wasn't curiosity. It felt like recognition." His eyes narrowed slightly. "As if he knew you intimately."
Her breath hitched.
Because he wasn't wrong.
Song Lingfang stepped closer. "Has something like this ever happened before? In your memories of… before?"
Her heart clenched.
Before.Before her death.Before betrayal.Before the fire that swallowed her whole.
She took a slow breath. "There's a memory," she whispered. "Barely a thread. But tonight… it felt closer."
Song Lingfang waited, still as stone.
Jiao Shui closed her eyes.
And the memory finally unfurled.
Smoke.Darkness.A collapsing pavilion.
She'd been running — injured, terrified, blood filling her mouth. Rebels had infiltrated the palace. It was chaos.
Then she'd seen him.
The Emperor — younger then, not yet crowned, half-conscious beneath shattered beams.
She crawled to him, choking on ash.Laid her hands on his shoulders.Dragged him with strength she didn't know she had.
He had opened his eyes just once.
"Who… are you…?"
And she had leaned close, too exhausted to speak her own name.
"Live," she whispered, voice splitting in her throat. "Even if it burns."
The jade crescent pin in her hair had snapped during the struggle, falling beside him.
Then everything went black.
Jiao Shui opened her eyes now, heart pounding.
"I saved him," she said softly. "In my previous life. I didn't realize until tonight."
Song Lingfang exhaled slowly, tension rippling through him. "Then his claim over you will be worse than I thought."
She shook her head. "It isn't claim. It's memory. And debt."
"Debt?" He stepped closer, voice softer. "Jiao Shui… men in power rarely repay debts with kindness."
Her throat tightened at the truth of that.
Just then, a hollow thud sounded behind them — the unmistakable crack of something striking the outer wall.
Song Lingfang's hand went instantly to the dagger hidden in his robes. "Stay behind me."
He moved silently to the courtyard.
Another sound.A faint metallic shimmer.
Then a small object rolled across the stone path — a bronze capsule etched with the crest of the Imperial Inner Court.
Song Lingfang snatched it up, jaw tight. "A message. At this hour?"
He opened it.
A single strip of silk unfurled, embroidered in gold thread:
"Do not fear dawn. I remember more than you think."
No name.But the handwriting — fluid, elegant — was unmistakably the Emperor's.
Jiao Shui stared at the message, dread curling through her.
He remembered more.More than her saving him.More than the jade pin.
Maybe…More than she was ready for.
Song Lingfang crushed the silk slightly in his grip, eyes darkening.
"This is not protection," he muttered. "It's pursuit."
And Jiao Shui, heart sinking, realized he might be right.
Because the Emperor didn't simply recognize her from a moment of survival.
He remembered her from a moment that mattered far more.
Something she had forgotten entirely.
Something that could unravel everything.