We finally returned to the palace.
After weeks of blood, smoke, sleepless nights, and ghosts—both literal and emotional—it almost felt surreal to see the carved white stone gates again. Familiar faces bowed as we passed, servants resumed their well-rehearsed courtesies, and everything looked… unchanged.
Which made it feel even more unreal.
The war was over, but the performance had just begun. The palace threw a celebration, of course. It always does. No matter the cost, there's always a feast waiting to rewrite the story.
Red and gold banners were draped across the halls, as if bright colors could bleach the battlefield from our memories. Music spilled into the corridors—lutes and strings and the distant thrum of drums—while trays of wine and sugared pastries floated through silk-draped hands.
Dancers twirled like nothing had happened. Everyone clapped like they believed it. Even Minister Wang showed up.
Not just showed up—he beamed, raising his cup like we had all done him a personal favor by surviving. As if he hadn't vanished the moment conflict sharpened, only to return now with the confidence of a man who'd already rewritten the script in his favor.
He was calm. Pleased. Polished.
And suddenly, I understood why.
Minister Wang didn't want the kingdom to fall to Qiuli. Not because of patriotism or loyalty, but because he wanted to rule it.
He didn't want to share power with foreign generals or see his influence diminished under military control. No—he wanted to control the throne through the court, piece by piece, whisper by whisper. A war lost would have been inconvenient. A war won, however, made him relevant again.
Now, with his carefully timed return, he could spin the victory as his own. His supporters already murmured in corners, subtly suggesting that had he not stabilized the capital during our absence, Qiuli would have marched straight through our gates.
And the worst part? People were starting to believe it.
We had no energy left to argue. No appetite for another battle—not political, not rhetorical, not yet. Our swords were still sheathed, our wounds half-healed. So we smiled. Nodded. Pretended the party was for the soldiers, not for the optics. We drank the wine and let the music smooth over the cracks. We let it slide. For now.
I spent the first day back in a haze of silk sheets and stillness.
After weeks of moving, reacting, surviving, the palace felt too quiet. Too soft. Like it might collapse under its own illusion of peace. I barely left my room. Let the quiet wrap around me like bandages. Let myself exist without purpose, just for a day.
The next afternoon, I went to see Yuling.
She met me at the door before I could even knock, her eyes already misted over. "You're back," she whispered, pulling me into a tight hug.
"I'm back," I murmured against her shoulder. "I'm okay."
She stepped back and looked me over, eyes scanning for wounds I didn't wear on the outside. "You look thinner and tired."
"Still standing," I said with a tired smile. "Which is more than I expected some days."
Yuling guided me inside, her son already asleep in his crib, tiny and peaceful in a world that rarely was.
She sat beside me, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. "I hated staying behind," she admitted. "I know I'm a consort. A mother. But I should've been there. With all of you. Fighting."
"You did your part," I said softly. "You protected your son. The rest of us protected the border. It doesn't make your role any less."
"I still felt useless," she whispered.
I reached out and took her hand. She didn't pull away.
"I missed you," she said. "I missed them too. Surprisingly. You all are my… family. The only one I have that feels like mine."
She even worried about Shen Kexian. Said it with a laugh, like even she couldn't quite believe it.
I laughed too. "Yeah… he somehow slipped into our weird little family without me noticing."
Yuling smiled, then narrowed her eyes at me like she was suddenly remembering something.
"What?" I asked, cautious.
"Did… anything happen?" she asked, voice light but loaded.
I hesitated. Then sighed. "Okay. Yes. Something happened."
Her eyes widened, and I told her. Everything. The cave. The bond. The kiss. The conversation after. Not in detail—just enough for her to gasp dramatically and cover her mouth like we were teenage girls at a sleepover and not two women balancing war, politics, and ancient spiritual connections.
"You kissed Shen Kexian?" she whispered, scandalized.
"He kissed me," I corrected quickly. "And I bit him. It's complicated."
She stared at me like I had personally rewritten her definition of "complicated."
"And now," she said slowly, "you're thinking about linking an array with him?"
I groaned and leaned back against the cushions. "Yes. Maybe. I don't know. Logically, it's useful. Spiritually efficient. Strategically smart."
She tilted her head. "And emotionally a mess?"
"Exactly."
She raised an eyebrow. "And what about Ming Yu?"
I sighed again, heavier this time. "Yeah… that's the problem. I know he'll probably be against it. I haven't told him yet."
Yuling reached for another slice of fruit, tossing life advice like it was gossip. "You never know. Ming Yu values your life—your safety—more than anything. Maybe he will understand."
I raised an eyebrow. "And if he doesn't?"
She grinned. "Then please him. Make him understand."
I blinked. "What do you mean please him?"
She leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief. "You know… in bed. Satisfy him."
My mouth dropped open. "Yuling!"
She giggled, clearly proud of herself, then leaned in even closer and whispered a few very specific, very scandalous words into my ear—words that made my jaw drop and my entire face heat up in less than two seconds.
"Yuling!" I gasped, scandalized. "What? How do you even know that?"
I swatted her arm, still blushing furiously. "I went to war and came back with trauma. You stayed in the palace and came back as an expert in bed?"
She laughed, trying—and failing—to look innocent.
My eyes narrowed. "Okay. No. How on earth do you know this? Tell me. Now."
Yuling's face flushed a little, and she suddenly became very interested in the embroidery on her sleeve. "Just… someone told me."
I leaned in, eyes sharp. "Someone?" My voice pitched up like I'd caught a whiff of scandal. "Who?"
She shushed me instantly, waving her hands like she could physically swat my curiosity away. "Don't get too loud!"
"Yuling," I hissed. "You cannot drop a line like that and expect me to be quiet. Who is this someone?"
She glanced toward the door, then leaned in close, her voice barely above a whisper. "Okay—we're just talking at the moment, but… he's good to me. Kind. Gentle."
"He?" I repeated.
"Yes. He."
Then she added, like it was a perfectly normal thing to say: "A eunuch."
I gasped—like actual, hand-over-mouth, wide-eyed gasp.
"A Eunuch?!"
"Shhhhhh!" she hissed, grabbing my wrist. "Heavens, Mei Lin, keep your voice down!"
My mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"You're flirting with a eunuch?"
She gave me a look. "I said we're talking. And he makes me laugh. And no, it's not what you think. Just… not yet."
I stared at her, half-impressed, half-scandalized. She was not even on the battlefield and came back with the wildest subplot.
I leaned in, still whispering but absolutely not letting this go. "But Yuling… a eunuch… they can't… do that. Can they?"
Yuling's cheeks turned red, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. "I was curious too, so… I asked."
"You asked!!!?"
She nodded, entirely too calm for the emotional tornado she'd just thrown me into. "And that's what he told me."
My internal monologue promptly exploded.
Internal stimulation.
Oh.
Oh.
I mean—I should have known. Logically, it makes sense. Human anatomy is still anatomy. Just because someone's a eunuch doesn't mean every kind of pleasure is off the table. Palace life is long, boring, and full of secrets. People get creative.
But that… was not where my thoughts had gone.
When Yuling saw the light of understanding finally dawn on my face, she gave me a small, knowing nod.
I stared at her, wide-eyed. "You mean you want me to do that to him?"
She gave the most unbothered shrug I'd ever seen in my life. "That's what he said. That it feels good for them, too."
I nearly choked on air. "Yuling."
She just sipped her tea like she hadn't just cracked open an entire category of ancient palace knowledge I was emotionally unprepared to process.
I gawked at her. "Okay, wait. This eunuch of yours—does he have a name? Or are we just referring to him like a mysterious bedtime consultant?"
Yuling leaned in again, lowering her voice like she was smuggling state secrets.
"His name is Ruan Zexi," she whispered. "But don't tell anyone, alright? He's very sweet."
I blinked. "Ruan Zexi," I repeated, filing the name away like it might unlock some future scandal. "Okay. I won't say anything."
She nodded, serious for a moment. "He's kind. He listens. And he never looks at me like I'm just someone's consort or someone's mother. Just… me."
I stared at her, stunned by how soft her voice had gone.
Then I smirked. "So. You're emotionally invested and exploring logistics?"
Her blush deepened. "It's not like that."
"Yuling," I said, grinning now, "it's exactly like that."
She tried to swat me with her sleeve, but I dodged, both of us laughing under our breath like girls sneaking secrets past the palace walls.
And for a moment, in that dim little corner of the world, it felt like we were just us. Not nobles. Not survivors. Not pawns in someone else's court. Just two women. Figuring it out.
***
I left Yuling's quarters with a mission forming in my head.
A dangerous, slightly unhinged mission.
But honestly? Why not.
I'd just survived a war, a ghost cave, a failed summoning ritual, and the emotional whiplash of two men orbiting my life with wildly different gravitational pulls. If this blew up in my face, it would barely crack the top five disasters I'd already survived.
So yes—I was going for it.
If I was going to try convincing Ming Yu about the array, about Shen Kexian, about everything—we needed to start from a place of peace.
And possibly seduction.
My goal? To give him the best modern date this ancient world had ever seen. Romance, comfort, mood lighting if I could figure it out. Total body massage. Emotional safety guaranteed.
Operation: How to Make a Man Feel Like He's Reached Heaven on Earth.
If I failed? I'd cry into my rice bowl and rethink my life choices.