The ink brush glided across the parchment in elegant, controlled strokes. Shen Luyan sat in the stillness of her study, the scent of sandalwood curling faintly from the incense burner nearby. The morning sun filtered through the carved lattice windows, casting shadows across the scrolls unfurled before her. Her eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the records with calm precision.
The world she had returned to was beautiful, gilded in jade and silk. But beneath the elegance, the empire seethed like a nest of serpents.
The Empire of Jin had stood for nearly four centuries, a vast realm held together by rivers, iron, and oaths sealed in blood. At its center sat the imperial court in Phoenix Peak Palace, where power whispered behind fans and poison bloomed in cups of wine.
The current emperor, Li Heng, once revered for his brilliance and vision, now lay frail and hidden away from the world. His influence waned with his health, and in his absence, the true game of succession had begun. The four sons he had sired—by four different consorts—were no longer just princes. They were rivals.
Li An, the First Prince, wore the title of Crown Prince. He had the people's admiration and the scholars' praise. Shen Luyan had once helped craft that path for him. She now saw how blind her loyalty had been. His charisma masked an ambition as deep as a sea of knives.
The Second Prince, Li Qiao, gentle and thoughtful, spent his days among scrolls and temples. A favorite of the Confucian court but dismissed by power-hungry factions. The Third Prince, Li Feng, thundered across battlefields with the arrogance of a warhound—beloved by soldiers but lacking subtlety. The youngest, Li Rui, was still a youth with no support to speak of—a forgotten piece on the chessboard.
Power in the empire did not rest solely with the throne. The court itself was a triangle of influence. First, the Civil Authority—a swarm of ministers and bureaucrats loyal to tradition and led by aging Prime Ministers. Second, the Military Lords—dukes and generals whose legions guarded the borders and, when tempted, could march on the capital. And third, the Nobility—ancient families of old blood like the Yuan, Zhao, and Shen.
Her family, the Shens, were the empire's iron backbone. Her father, General Shen Yuan, held command over the Eastern Defense Army and governed vast lands stretching from the Jade River to the Liang Mountains. Their ancestral estate, the Red Pines Manor, was a symbol of loyalty and strength.
But it was that very strength that had painted a target on them.
In her past life, Shen Luyan had refused to entangle the family in succession. It was a decision rooted in caution. Neutrality, however, became vulnerability. When Li An rose to power, he saw the Shens as a threat, unchecked by loyalty. With a single imperial decree, they became traitors.
The court turned its back. Former allies vanished. And the Shen family estate was surrounded by soldiers bearing the imperial seal.
Her fingers curled slightly over the edge of the parchment. Not this time.
She looked over at the family records, carefully annotated. The same noble houses that once betrayed them still slithered through the court. She had time to prepare. Five years. Five years before the axe fell.
A knock came at the door.
"Miss," Jin Lan said softly, entering with a tray of tea. Behind her, Mei Zhi followed with a bundle of sealed letters. "This arrived from the capital."
Shen Luyan took the scroll and unrolled it. Her eyes narrowed.
The crimson wax bore the sigil of the Crown Prince.
Li An was returning from a southern inspection and would pass through the Eastern Commandery. A diplomatic courtesy visit. Thinly veiled.
The edge of her lip curled upward. "So soon, Li An?" she murmured. "Very well. Let us begin."
As she dismissed the maids, she turned back to the window, watching the breeze ripple through the red leaves in the garden.
This time, the game will not be played by your rules.