Jiaojiao sat in her private study that night, clutching an old jade pendant that had belonged to her mother. She didn't remember her well—only the lullabies and the faint scent of sandalwood.
But something had awakened in her. Ever since her death and return, memories not her own flashed in her dreams.
Wounds stitched by golden threads. Armies healed by breath alone. Blood that sang with power.
She looked into the mirror again. Her eyes—once coal black—now shimmered faintly with silver.
Behind her, Tang Yanan stepped in.
"I found something," Yanan said, holding up a sealed document marked with the Zhao family crest. "It was hidden in your father's private vault."
Jiaojiao opened it slowly.
What she read made her stomach churn.
"The Zhao and Song families were once bound by more than politics."
"A blood contract… offered during the Divine War. One that tied my life to his power."
Yanan looked at her. "You're saying Zhao Liren doesn't just want your influence… he needs your soul?"
"No," Jiaojiao whispered, fire in her voice. "He needs me bound."
She stood, gripping the pendant tighter.
"But he made one mistake."
"I died. And came back changed."
"The contract is broken."
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