TWO LIVES,ONE FATE
The promise lingered between them long after the words were spoken.
Shen Qingyi and Lin Ruoxue stood facing each other in the quiet chamber, hands still clasped, as if letting go would cause the fragile certainty anchoring them to shatter. Outside, the palace resumed its rhythm—footsteps passing, distant voices murmuring, the rustle of silk and power intertwining in unseen corridors.
Two transmigrators.
Two fates rewritten inside a story that had never been kind.
Ruoxue was the first to pull her hand back.
"So," she said, folding her arms, lips curling faintly, "we really died reading a trash novel."
Qingyi let out a weak breath that was almost a laugh. "It seems so."
"Do you remember how?" Ruoxue pressed.
Qingyi frowned. "No. Just pain. Then nothing."
"Same." Ruoxue's gaze flickered, sharp and calculating. "Which means we don't know if we can die again."
The implication hung heavy.
If death here meant finality, then every choice mattered far more than they had imagined.
Qingyi gestured to the table. "Sit. We need to talk."
They lowered themselves onto silk cushions, the familiarity of the posture unsettling in its naturalness. Qingyi poured tea with steady hands, though her mind raced.
"First," Qingyi said quietly, "we confirm the timeline."
Ruoxue nodded. "Third Month, Sixth Day. Morning rites. That means—" she paused, then smirked, "—today is when His Royal Coldness decides you're interesting."
Qingyi grimaced. "Please don't say it like that."
"I will say it worse if needed."
Qingyi sighed. "In the original plot, he notices me because I answered the Empress Dowager's question during rites. That leads to me being summoned again. Favor starts early."
"And I," Ruoxue said coolly, "was already marked as troublesome. Too proud. Too sharp. A convenient future scapegoat."
Qingyi clenched her fingers around the teacup. "That won't happen this time."
Ruoxue raised a brow. "You sound confident."
"I have to be."
Ruoxue studied her for a long moment. Then she leaned back, gaze drifting to the window.
"Let's get something straight," she said. "We are not heroines. We're intruders."
Qingyi didn't argue.
"The novel will push events forward whether we want it to or not," Ruoxue continued. "Characters will act like they're supposed to. Court politics won't stop because we're sentimental."
Qingyi met her gaze. "That's why we change how we act, not just what happens."
Ruoxue laughed softly. "You always were the strategist."
"And you," Qingyi said gently, "were the one who never accepted injustice."
Silence fell, heavy but not hostile.
Then Ruoxue spoke again, voice quieter.
"Do you remember how I died?"
Qingyi's breath caught.
"…Yes."
Public accusation. False evidence. Execution by white silk.
Ruoxue's eyes darkened. "I won't accept that ending. Not again."
"You won't have to," Qingyi said firmly. "We'll leave the palace if we have to."
Ruoxue's lips twitched. "Spoken like someone who doesn't belong to the villainess role."
Qingyi reached out. "Ruoxue."
Ruoxue shook her head lightly. "I'm not angry. Just realistic."
A knock sounded at the door.
Both stiffened.
A senior maid's voice followed. "Lady Shen, His Highness requests your presence at the East Pavilion."
Qingyi's heart dropped.
Already?
That was faster than the novel described.
Ruoxue snorted. "Well. Fate wastes no time."
Qingyi rose slowly. "I don't have a choice."
"You do," Ruoxue said. "But choosing wrongly here could be dangerous."
Qingyi hesitated. "Then come with me."
Ruoxue blinked. "What?"
"In the novel, you weren't there," Qingyi said. "So be there now."
A slow smile spread across Ruoxue's face.
"Oh," she said softly. "I like that."
The East Pavilion stood beside a lotus pond just beginning to bloom. The air was cool, heavy with incense and anticipation.
Crown Prince Xiao Yichen stood beneath the eaves, dressed in dark ceremonial robes. He was taller than Qingyi remembered, his expression unreadable, eyes sharp and distant.
Qingyi bowed deeply. "Your Highness."
Ruoxue followed suit, movements crisp and unyielding.
Xiao Yichen's gaze lingered on Qingyi, then shifted—just for a fraction of a second—to Ruoxue.
Something unreadable flickered there.
"Lady Shen," he said, voice calm, "your answer this morning intrigued the Empress Dowager."
Qingyi kept her head lowered. "I merely spoke honestly."
"Hm." His gaze sharpened. "And honesty is rare in the palace."
He turned slightly. "Who is this?"
Ruoxue lifted her chin. "Lin Ruoxue. A distant relative serving within the inner court."
Xiao Yichen studied her openly now.
"You do not look like someone content with serving quietly," he remarked.
Ruoxue smiled—sharp, unapologetic. "Contentment is a luxury, Your Highness."
A pause.
Then the prince laughed.
Not loudly. Not warmly.
But genuinely amused.
Qingyi's heart sank.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
The novel never mentioned this moment.
Xiao Yichen's gaze returned to Qingyi, deeper now, more curious.
"Interesting," he murmured. "Both of you."
Behind them, hidden in the shadow of the corridor, an imperial guard watched silently.
Pei Jingyuan.
His eyes followed Lin Ruoxue alone.
And somewhere, unseen, the plot twisted—quietly, irrevocably—around two women who had sworn not to let love become betrayal.