Shui Yi forced herself to accept the "Legendary Healer" persona. She had expected this. Of course, Long Fei had never allowed himself the luxury of romance before, and now it was no different.
The Crown Prince guided her through the palace corridors in silence, leading her to the guest chamber. The room was grand, but impersonal, prepared for a guest of importance, though not necessarily a welcome one.
"You should rest," he said. "If you need anything, the servants will attend to you."
She hesitated, searching his face for some remnant of the man who had allowed her to drag him around in the marketplace. The man who had politely asked to kiss her in the carriage, before they were rudely interrupted.
He only gave a courteous bow before striding into the palace labyrinth.
Alone, she exhaled and stepped into the chamber, closing the door gently behind her. She perched on the cold bed. She knew this would happen, but it still stung.
The palace was quiet, but Shui Yi's heart was restless. She found herself wandering through the gardens, her feet carrying her toward the pagoda where she and Long Fei had once stood beneath the moonlit sky together. It was the place where, for a fleeting moment, it had felt like they belonged to each other.
She took a deep breath, and without thinking, she began to sing. The melody drifted into the night, weaving through the air, a whisper of longing from a time when things had been simpler.
From a distance, the first note of a flute slipped into the night, harmonizing with her voice. She did not falter, continuing to sing. She smiled softly as she heard Long Fei's melody join hers. There, under the full moon, their harmony wove through the air, resonating across the palace grounds—a melody of unspoken emotions: longing, memories, things that cannot be said.
***
In the depths of the Empress' chamber, Zhen Hua froze at that tune—Long Fei's tune. It was the one he played every night in solitude when he was home, a song she had always believed belonged to no one. Yet here he was, playing it with that wench. The harmony made it crystal clear. He had never played music with a woman before, even when she insisted he accompany her on the flute while she played the zither.
This was different. The way the music filled the air spoke of intimacy; an understanding between lovers was expressed in the melody. Did they think they could fool her musically astute ears?
She clenched her hands as a slow fire ignited in her chest. Long Fei usually had no heart for romance. He had never looked at any woman longer than necessary, and he had always kept his emotions locked away. But now, this woman had earned his attention. It was unacceptable.
She blew on her handcrafted wolf whistle. Shortly after, a servant clad in black stealth clothing appeared. Long Yan had kindly left her his disciple before his untimely demise. "Fetch the carriage driver," she ordered. "I want to know exactly what happened between them on the way back."
The secret servant gave a curt nod and disappeared into the shadows. The Empress' fingers curled against the armrest, her lacquered nails digging into the redwood as she seethed in fury.
The music outside continued to echo through the palace. It may have been soothing to others, but to Zhen Hua, it made her head ache. It was a sharp reminder that Long Fei was slipping through her fingers. She swiftly got up and turned the hidden golden phoenix mechanism on the mural, causing the bookcase to shift aside. She headed down to her sanctuary to escape the noise.
The air in the underground chamber was thick with the scent of burning incense, its heavy fragrance curling through the dimly lit space. She sat on her stone throne, rubbing her temple with one hand while tapping impatiently on the cold armrest with the other.
The secret servant roughly pushed the carriage driver before her. He knelt trembling, his forehead pressed to the stone floor.
The Empress' face was eerily calm, yet her eyes were piercing. "Tell me what happened," she commanded.
The driver gulped. "Y-Your Majesty… I'm not sure. I interrupted them but it looked like they were going to k-kiss..."
Zhen Hua exhaled sharply. The temperature in the chamber spiked, and a gust of heat exploded from her body, the air shimmering with vermilion light as her fury took form. Flames burst from her outstretched fingers, deadly and unforgiving.
The driver had only a moment to scream before the flames engulfed him. His shrieks were swallowed by the roar of the crimson flame. The scent of seared flesh and charred fabric filled the chamber as his form withered and blackened, crumbling into a pile of cinders. The flames hissed and evaporated, leaving nothing but the acrid remains.
But as the flames died down, her body jerked violently, a searing pain tearing through her chest like a lightning strike. Her breath hitched as an invisible force slammed into her, hurling her backward and through her throne. She gasped as she collided with the stone floor, agonizing pressure crushing her lungs. Blood surged up her throat, and she choked, thick blood dripping from her pale lips as she coughed violently.
Her hand curled into a fist, nails digging into her palm as her body trembled from the force of her fall. How could she forget? Mortal bodies were too frail to wield immortal power. She wasn't a Phoenix anymore—just a woman bound by the limitations of flesh. Using that magic here had a steep price. She had broken Heaven's cardinal rule.
The Empress forced herself to sit up, her body weak but her rage still burning. If divine power failed her, she would resort to something far darker.
She may as well take the mermaid down with her since that lapse of control would have been flagged with the authorities in the Celestial Realm. She had been so careful in the Mortal Realm, but this siren's appearance had ruined her.
With great effort, she dragged herself toward the far end of the chamber. A heavy iron door loomed before her, its markings ancient. She pressed her hand against the cold metal, whispering an incantation under her breath. The door groaned open, revealing another chamber, shrouded in darkness.
Inside, a stone altar sat at the center, surrounded by shelves stacked with forbidden scrolls and vials of rare ingredients. The only light in the room came from a single flickering candle, casting long, ominous shadows against the stone walls.
Her gaze fell on the altar where the remnants of past rituals lay. One way remained. A method so twisted, so absolute, that even the heavens shunned it.
She staggered toward the silver dagger resting on the altar, its blade gleaming in the dim light. She gripped the hilt tightly, her fingers slick with sweat.
Ancient black magic demanded sacrifice.
Without hesitation, she stabbed the dagger into her chest, feeling the cold steel pierce through flesh and muscle. She coughed violently, her blood spilling from the wound, dripping onto the bronze cauldron sitting on the altar.
The crimson droplets hissed as they met the runes carved into its surface, glowing an eerie purple. Zhen Hua spoke the incantation in ancient tongue as she gasped.
She uncorked several glass vials. One by one, she poured their contents into the cauldron: Phoenix's Tear, Blood Lotus, Moon's Shadow Herb. The liquid swirled. It glowed like molten gold. Its warmth pulsed with an unnatural energy. The potion shuddered and darkened to a deep crimson. Its surface rippled like the heartbeat of a living creature. The smell of iron and earth filled the chamber, thick and intoxicating.
She smirked as she watched the potion settle, its power finally taking shape. She could feel it in the air, the darkness intoxicating her.
The siren would be her obedient slave. This spell was irreversible. Only death could break the spell.