The carriage rolled through the familiar streets, its wheels echoing softly against stone.
Princess Anle sat inside, hands folded neatly in her lap, posture composed—but her heart was anything but calm.
Home.
In her previous life, this gate had been sealed shut the night her father was arrested. She had watched from behind palace walls as soldiers dragged him away, powerless to intervene. By dawn, his name had been erased from the court records.
And now—
The gates of the Prime Minister's residence stood open.
Unharmed.
Unbloodied.
Her breath caught.
The moment the carriage came to a stop, she stepped down without waiting for assistance. The guards bowed hurriedly, servants froze in shock, and then—
"Yu'er?"
Her mother's voice trembled.
Lady Shen stood at the entrance, her face pale with worry, hands clutching her sleeves as though afraid her daughter might vanish if she loosened her grip.
She broke.
All composure shattered.
"Mother!"
She rushed forward, arms wrapping tightly around her mother's waist. The scent of familiar incense flooded her senses, warm and comforting—and tears spilled freely, soaking into silk.
Her mother stiffened in surprise before holding her just as tightly.
"What is this child doing?" Lady Shen scolded softly, though her own eyes were wet. "You're a princess now—how can you still act so recklessly?"
Her father approached more slowly, his expression stern but his gaze filled with relief.
Her brother followed, tall and straight-backed, eyes sharp with concern.
She pulled back only long enough to bow properly.
"Father. Elder Brother."
Her voice trembled despite her efforts.
Her father, Prime Minister Shen, studied her carefully.
"You look thinner," he said quietly. "Did the palace mistreat you?"
She shook her head quickly.
"No," she replied. "They… honored me."
Her mother cupped her face suddenly, eyes brimming.
"Then why are you crying?"
Because in her last life, this warmth was taken from me.
Because I held your cold hands while you lay lifeless.
Because I couldn't eve bury you properly.
But she could not say any of it.
Instead, she pressed her forehead lightly against her mother's shoulder and whispered:
"I just missed you."
They said nothing more at the gate.
Inside the residence, tea was served, servants dismissed, and the doors closed firmly.
Only then did the air turn heavy.
Prime Minister Shen set his cup down with deliberate calm.
"Explain," he said.
Her brother crossed his arms. "Appearing in court unannounced, rejecting a royal engagement, volunteering yourself to a foreign prince—Yu'er, do you have any idea how dangerous this is?"
Her mother's hands tightened around her sleeves. "Do you know what people are saying outside? That you've been bewitched, or that you're throwing yourself away!"
She knelt.
The sound of her knees striking the floor echoed sharply.
"Yu'er!" her mother cried.
Her father did not move.
"Let her speak," he said quietly.
She bowed deeply.
"This daughter has brought fear and trouble to the family," she said. "But I beg you to trust me."
Her brother frowned. "Trust you with what? Your life?"
"With all of yours," she replied.
Silence fell.
She lifted her head.
In her previous life, her father had been executed for standing too tall. Her brother had died for refusing to kneel. Her mother had chosen death over humiliation.
This time—
She would be the shield.
"I did not nullify the engagement recklessly," she said calmly. "I severed a rope that would have strangled us all."
Her father's eyes narrowed slightly. "You speak as though you've seen the future."
She smiled faintly.
"Perhaps I have."
Her brother exhaled sharply. "Even so, the Northern Prince is no savior. He's dangerous."
"Yes," she agreed without hesitation. "That is why I chose him."
Her mother's voice trembled. "You're giving yourself to an enemy."
"No," she said gently, rising to her feet. "I'm giving myself to peace."
Her brother shook his head. "And what if he treats you cruelly?"
Her fingers curled slowly at her side.
"Then I endure," she said. "Because endurance is easier than burial."
Her mother flinched.
"Yu'er…" she whispered.
She stepped forward and took her parents' hands, kneeling once more—this time not as a subject, but as a daughter.
"In my dreams," she said softly, carefully, "I saw this family broken. I saw blood on these floors. I woke up knowing I could not let that happen again."
Her father stared at her for a long time.
Then he sighed.
"You've always been stubborn," he said quietly. "Just like your mother."
Her mother laughed weakly through tears.
"And just as reckless."
Her brother's expression softened. "If this is truly your decision… then let us help you prepare."
She looked up, startled.
"You… believe me?"
Her father nodded slowly.
"I don't know what burden you carry," he said. "But I know my daughter would never gamble with her family's lives lightly."
Her mother wiped her tears.
"If you must walk this path," she said shakily, "then promise me one thing."
She gripped her mother's hands tightly.
"What is it?"
"That you won't disappear without a word," her mother said. "That you won't suffer alone."
Tears welled again.
"I promise," she said firmly. "I will come back alive."
Her father stood.
"Then we will support you," he said. "As a family."
Her brother smiled faintly. "And if the Northern Prince dares mistreat you… I'll cross borders to drag you home myself."
She laughed softly through tears.
"I won't regret this," she said, voice steady. "I swear it."
Her parents exchanged a glance.
"Then," her mother said quietly, "we will pray you never have to."
Outside, the sun dipped lower in the sky.
And far away, in a palace that did not belong to her—
An enemy prince waited.
Not knowing that the woman he had accepted as a political bride had already buried one life for the sake of the family she now clutched so tightly.