The rain had come quietly during the night, soaking the courtyard tiles and filling the air with the scent of wet earth and plum blossoms.
In the small room beside Shen Lian's study, the boy stirred.
For the past three days, he had slept without dreams—hovering on the edge of fever and oblivion. But now, his fingers twitched against the cotton quilt, and his eyes opened.
The ceiling above him was made of cedarwood, simple and clean. A soft light filtered through the window screen.
He blinked.
Then sat up with a jolt.
Pain lanced through his ribs, and he hissed, curling forward. But the movement proved something to him—he was alive.
Alive.
Again.
His hands trembled. His mind tried to recall where he was, but all he could remember was snow, blood, and a voice:
"You'll live. But you'll belong to me."
The door creaked open.
Shen Lian entered, holding a tray with a bowl of porridge and a cup of warm tea.
Their eyes met.
The boy stared. Her face was delicate, eyes cool, expression unreadable. He felt a chill run down his spine—not from fear, but recognition. That voice. That command. That gaze.
"You woke," she said, setting the tray down. "Good. I was beginning to think you enjoyed pretending."
He tried to speak but coughed instead.
Shen Lian poured a cup of tea and held it out. He hesitated.
"You're not poisoned," she said lightly. "If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't have dragged your half-frozen corpse into my courtyard."
The boy took the cup, fingers brushing hers briefly. His voice came out hoarse. "Who… are you?"
"No one important. Yet."
She stood. "Eat. Rest. I'll come back later with your new name."
He looked at her sharply. "I have a name."
Shen Lian gave him a soft smile—one that never reached her eyes.
"Not anymore."
Then she turned and walked out, the door closing behind her like a seal.
Inside, the boy sat frozen, the tea untouched in his hand.
He didn't know who she was.
But he knew one thing for certain.
This girl—this delicate, unassuming girl—was more dangerous than any whip, chain, or blade he had ever known.