Jiao Shui did not answer immediately.
Silence was a language she wielded carefully. In the palace, words could be twisted, but silence forced others to reveal themselves first.
Outside her door, Xi Wuian waited.
He did not knock again.
That, more than anything, unsettled her.
The bullet comments whispered like nervous courtiers.
He's giving her space.That's new.That's dangerous.
She finally turned from the window, every step measured, and stopped a few paces from the door.
"Your Majesty," she said calmly, "the Inner Palace is not a place for listening ears to mistake kindness for permission."
A faint laugh came from the other side. Soft. Almost fond.
"Still sharp," he said. "Even when cornered."
"I am not cornered," she replied.
"Not yet," he agreed easily.
That word settled like frost.
She placed her hand against the wood, not opening it. The door felt warmer than it should have, as if holding the heat of him.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"To hear you choose," Xi Wuian said. "Not in court. Not through ritual. Just you."
The bullet comments erupted again, scandalized and thrilled.
He's asking for honesty.That's illegal in three ministries.This man is unwell.
Jiao Shui closed her eyes for half a breath.
"I have already chosen," she said. "I chose restraint."
"And yet," he replied, voice closer now, "you stood before me today and refused to kneel."
"That is not desire," she said. "That is survival."
There was a pause.
Then, quietly, "Sometimes they sound the same."
Her jaw tightened.
She opened the door.
Xi Wuian stood there alone. No guards. No attendants. Dressed not in imperial gold but in deep ink-blue, the color he wore when he wished to be seen as a man before a ruler.
His gaze moved over her face with careful restraint, like someone memorizing a battlefield rather than claiming it.
"You should not be here," she said.
"I know."
"You should leave."
"I will," he promised. "After one thing."
She waited.
He leaned closer, lowering his voice so even the walls would strain to hear.
"Prince Yang has begun to move pieces," he said. "And Song Lingfang has returned to the capital."
The name struck like a bell.
The bullet comments went feral.
HE'S BACK.Oh no.Oh yes.This is about to get ugly.
Jiao Shui's composure did not crack, but something inside her shifted, sharp and awake.
"When?" she asked.
"Tonight," Xi Wuian said. "And if I'm listening, others are too."
His eyes searched hers. Not demanding. Not claiming.
Warning.
"You wanted to choose aloud," he said softly. "Be careful who hears."
Then he stepped back.
Just like that.
He bowed. Not deeply. Not formally. Just enough to acknowledge her as something dangerous and equal.
"Sleep lightly, Yunan," he said. "The palace will not."
And then he was gone, swallowed by corridors and shadows.
Jiao Shui stood in the doorway long after.
The night felt different now. Thicker. Watchful.
She closed the door slowly.
Somewhere beyond the Inner Palace walls, threads were tightening.
And she had just learned one of them still knew her name.