The palace had barely calmed since the archery incident. Whispers still danced in corridors. Servants couldn't stop talking about how the cold-hearted Crown Prince had flown across the field like a wind to catch a mere maid.
But within the quiet walls of Hua Lian's chamber, the tension was different.
She lay unconscious, her breathing faint, her skin pale. Despite her strength, the violent fall had knocked the wind out of her body, leaving her soul drifting somewhere between dreams and pain.
The royal physician arrived swiftly—summoned not by any official decree, but by an unspoken command carried by a silent messenger in dark robes. A small seal carved from black jade had accompanied the summons. No name. No explanation. But the physician dared not delay.
Hours passed like years.
Then, just as the sun dipped beneath the western walls of the palace, Hua Lian stirred.
Her eyelids fluttered, and her gaze focused slowly on the golden silk canopy above her. Pain throbbed at her shoulder, but her spirit was intact.
She had survived.
And as if on cue, the door burst open with a gust of excited voices.
Mingzhao, Wenjin, Fenglin, and Renshu flooded into the room, each bearing something in their hands—boxes, scrolls, herbal sachets, even hand-drawn good wishes.
"You're awake!" Wenjin breathed, his eyes almost glossy. "Heavens, we thought—" He didn't finish the sentence. Instead, he stepped forward and placed a small folded poem on her bedside.
Fenglin was grinning from ear to ear. "You've got more lives than a palace cat. And more bite too."
He handed her a jade pendant. "For protection," he whispered. "From future falls… and foolish people."
Renshu offered her a box filled with her favorite preserved ginger slices. "Made the kitchen remake them thrice," he added sheepishly. "Only the best for our miracle maid."
Mingzhao stood last. He didn't say much. Only held out a paper crane carved from silver.
"I thought you'd like this," he said softly. "It doesn't sing yet. But someday it will."
Their laughter filled the room like spring rain, breaking the tension, washing away the fear that had hung over their hearts all day.
But one prince did not come.
Prince Li Yuyan.
He didn't visit, didn't send a token or message. Not a scroll. Not a flower.
Nothing.
Later that afternoon, as she stepped into the corridor with a slight limp, she ran into him.
He stood leaning near the colonnade, half-hidden in the shadows, as if he had been waiting… or perhaps passing by.
Their eyes met.
For a heartbeat, she thought she saw concern flicker behind the cold bronze mask—but it was gone before she could be sure.
"Maid," he said flatly. "You better recover fast. The laundry from the southern wing won't sort itself. And try not to start another circus in the process."
Hua Lian blinked, almost amused.
That was his way of saying "I'm glad you're not dead."
"I'll do my best, Your Highness," she replied, hiding the flicker of a smile.
As he walked away, the breeze lifted his robe slightly—and for just a second, she noticed it again.
The same black jade ring—cracked at the center—dangling from his sash.
Her thoughts were interrupted by new whispers among the maids.
Princess Ming Yu had been sent back to her father's estate in disgrace. Her scheming had finally reached the ears of the Empress Dowager, who quietly requested her departure to "recover from her emotions." It was done without public scandal, but every servant knew it was because of what she'd done to the palace maid who had unknowingly captured every prince's attention.
But peace in the palace was short-lived.
That night, when the moon had barely risen, a sinister force struck again.
The five princes were away—called to an emergency assembly concerning border tensions.
And Princess Hao Ran saw her chance.
She swept into Hua Lian's chamber with a chilling smile. Her hair was done in elaborate loops, her perfume sweet and poisonous. Though her face was beautiful, her soul was pitch black—especially when it came to matters of jealousy.
She had always fancied Prince Wenjin, long before anyone noticed the maid.
But now, he looked at Hua Lian.
He cared for her.
And that was unforgivable.
"Drag her out," Hao Ran said to her guards.
Hua Lian struggled as they yanked her to the courtyard behind the servant quarters. There was no official charge, no imperial edict.
"I want a hundred strokes at her back," Hao Ran ordered with a smile. "Make sure it stings."
The guards hesitated. "But, Your Highness… she's the one who—"
"Do you want your tongues cut out?" Hao Ran snapped.
The first guard raised his whip. Hua Lian closed her eyes, her body bracing for pain. She wouldn't beg.
She had endured worse.
But then—
The sound of something snapping broke the air.
The whip had never landed.
A strong hand had caught it midair—and snapped it in two like a dry twig.
Gasps erupted.
The guard stumbled backward, eyes wide with terror.
Before them stood the last person they expected.
Clad in dark bronze armor, eyes glinting like fire beneath his mask.
Prince Li Yuyan.
Silent. Deadly.
He didn't speak.
He just grabbed Hua Lian's wrist and pulled her up, shielding her with his frame.
Then he turned his cold eyes on the guards. "You dare lift a hand against a servant under the Crown Prince's watch?"
They trembled. One of them peed in his trousers. The scent was shameful.
But it was the next voice that shattered the night.
"I'm highly disappointed in you, Hao Ran."
It was Wenjin. His usually gentle face now contorted in fury.
"You were once my childhood friend. What happened to you?" His voice cracked, not from weakness, but betrayal.
"How could you be so heartless? How could you do this to an innocent girl? I'll never speak to you again. Don't even dream of it."
Hao Ran fell to her knees, tears streaming down her flawless cheeks—but they were empty tears. Crocodile tears. Her act was over.
Yuyan said nothing as he led Hua Lian away, his hand still firm on her wrist. She looked up at him in the moonlight, her expression unreadable.
He never looked back.
And though he said nothing, Hua Lian knew.
Something inside him—something buried—was awakening.
But behind them, in the shadowed corridor, eyes were watching.
Prince Mingzhao… and another dark-robed figure… were already planning the next move.
Because in the palace of Han, danger didn't knock twice.
It never left.