Chapter 20: The Prince Who Should Not Exist
The jade ring felt heavier than it looked.
I turned it over in my hand again and again, the surface cool against my fingers, the weight of its meaning colder still.
"This belonged to Prince Jihao," I said slowly. "He died when I was sixteen. Or so I was told."
Li Shenzhou nodded once. "That's what the records say. Burned in a fire. Cremated. Ashes delivered to the ancestral shrine."
"And now his ring is in my hand."
"Because the fire never happened."
I stared at him.
"You're telling me they faked the death of a royal prince? Why?"
"Because he chose the wrong side. He backed the wrong Empress. Yours."
My lips parted, but no sound came.
In my first life, I barely knew Prince Jihao. He was polite. Distant. Present only during festival banquets and formal rituals. Never political. Never close.
Or so I thought.
"You were working with him," I said, the realization forming slowly. "You and Jihao. You tried to protect me."
Li Shenzhou looked away for a moment, jaw tightening. "We tried to prevent what happened. But we failed."
"And now?"
"Now we try again."
---
We sat beneath the broken lanterns in the garden while Jiu'er cleaned the blood from my sleeves.
She didn't speak. Not once. She had stopped asking questions when answers stopped making sense.
The assassins had been removed. Quietly. Without fuss.
No alarm had been raised.
That meant only one thing — someone powerful had sent them, and that someone wanted no witnesses left behind.
"What do you plan to do with the ring?" Shenzhou asked.
I looked at it again. A green circle with golden carvings inside.
"I'll wear it," I said.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Publicly?" he asked.
"No. Just enough for the right eyes to see."
He gave a rare smile. "You're learning faster this time."
"Death teaches quickly."
---
Later that day, I visited the Temple Pavilion — where the concubines offered prayers every full moon. I wasn't due there, but I made an appearance anyway.
Several eyes turned as I entered. Soft greetings. Forced smiles.
I caught sight of Concubine Meiyan across the lotus pool. Still draped in pink. Still smug.
She wasn't the only threat in that room, but she was the loudest.
I offered incense. Let the smoke rise slowly.
And when I reached forward to adjust my sleeve, I let the jade ring slide into view for a heartbeat before tucking it back.
Not enough to shout. Just enough to whisper.
Across the pavilion, one of the Imperial Secretaries' daughters dropped her rosary beads.
She had seen it.
Good.
---
That evening, Xiao Yuren appeared outside my chambers again.
"You've been busy," he said as he stepped inside, uninvited as usual.
"You've been quiet," I replied. "Unusual for you."
He glanced at my wrist. "Interesting accessory."
"You recognize it?"
He shrugged. "Hard not to."
I waited.
He didn't speak for a while. Then he looked up, and the sharpness in his tone was gone.
"Whatever you think you're doing… be careful. Some names don't stay buried for long. Some were never buried at all."
"You're warning me?"
"I'm reminding you," he said. "I'm not the only one watching."
He turned to leave, but paused at the door.
"Be ready in three days. The Grand Matron will be summoning the noble daughters for the Spring Offering. You'll need allies there."
"I thought you said I should trust no one."
"I said you should use them. That's not the same thing."
---
When he left, I pulled the scroll Lady Shen had given me weeks ago from under my pillow.
Three names.
All marked in red.
One was now confirmed — Prince Jihao.
The second had vanished after my first wedding.
The third... I hadn't dared look into. Not yet.
But I would.
Not because I wanted to.
Because I had no choice.
---
At midnight, a knock came at my window.
Soft.
Precise.
I opened it slowly.
No one was there.
Just a note pinned to the sill.
No ink.
Only blood.
One word, drawn in a shaky hand:
"Traitor."
---
Someone had seen the ring.
And they knew what it meant.
Chapter 21: The Gathering Storm
The blood had dried by morning.
Jiu'er found the note before I could take it down. Her fingers shook as she held it out to me, eyes wide.
"Who would do this?" she whispered.
Someone watching. Someone afraid.
"Burn it," I said.
"But—"
"No one else should see it."
She obeyed, dropping it into the incense burner. The flames curled around the word traitor, eating it until nothing was left but ash.
---
Later, Lady Shen examined the ring.
She said nothing for a long time. Then she looked up at me with eyes that had seen too many secrets.
"You understand what this means," she said.
"I do."
"You understand what it will cost."
"I already paid the price once," I said. "Now someone else will."
She poured tea without speaking. Then set the cup down without drinking.
"When you wear that ring, you stop being a victim," she said. "You become a threat."
"I hope they notice."
"They already have."
---
The Spring Offering was only a day away, and preparations stirred the palace like a hive of silken bees.
Servants rushed past with bolts of embroidered cloth. Scribes copied family names for seating charts. Even the lesser concubines were dressed in ceremonial colors, hoping to be seen.
It was not a religious event, no matter how many prayers were said.
It was a battlefield in silk.
I stood before the mirror, watching Jiu'er arrange my hair. She was quiet again.
"Do you want me to stay close tomorrow?" she asked softly.
"No," I said. "Stay out of sight. I need them to forget you exist."
She nodded. "Will you be safe?"
"Not at all."
---
The Grand Matron's hall was already filled when I arrived.
Silks rustled. Perfumes drifted. Laughter rang out in polished, practiced tones.
Eyes turned toward me, sharp as blades.
I walked slowly, head high, robe deep red with gold trim, a single hairpin catching the light. No guards. No escorts. Just me.
Whispers started before I even reached my seat.
"She wasn't even invited last season."
"I heard she offended Concubine Meiyan."
"They say she's been speaking with Xiao Yuren in private."
And finally—
"What is that on her finger?"
Yes. Look at the ring. Remember the dead prince. Wonder why she's wearing his mark.
I sat without smiling.
Across the hall, Concubine Meiyan approached slowly, her silk gown trailing behind her like a cloud of pink smoke.
"Your Highness," she said sweetly, voice echoing just enough for others to hear. "How wonderful to see you among us again. We thought you'd forgotten your place."
I smiled gently. "Oh no. I remember exactly where I belong."
She tilted her head. "Then allow me to remind you of the rules. At these offerings, we present only offerings. Not politics. Not symbols of the past."
"Is that why you left your decency at the door?"
Gasps rippled around us.
Meiyan's smile cracked.
Before she could reply, the Grand Matron entered, ending the moment.
We bowed, fell silent, and the ceremony began.
---
As the incense rose and the first recitations were spoken, I felt it.
A stare. Heavy. Direct.
From across the room.
I turned.
It was Xiao Yuren.
He wasn't supposed to be here.
But there he was — dressed in quiet gray, tucked near the back, watching me like he was counting every breath I took.
Then he looked away.
Toward a girl I didn't recognize.
Young. Nervous. Clutching a fan too tightly.
I followed his gaze and something twisted in my chest.
She wore a pin shaped like a crane.
A crane made of black jade.
Only one person had ever given those.
Prince Jihao.
The girl caught me looking and lowered her eyes.
So the prince wasn't just a memory. He had followers. Still loyal. Still hidden.
And they were here.
---
After the ceremony, I stepped out into the garden to breathe.
Behind me, footsteps followed.
"Quite the performance," Xiao Yuren said as he joined me.
"You said trust no one," I said.
"I didn't say ignore everyone."
I studied him.
"You knew Jihao had allies."
"Yes."
"And you didn't tell me?"
He shrugged. "Some truths are more dangerous than lies."
"You think I can't handle danger?"
"I think you attract it like rain to a battlefield."
We were quiet for a moment.
Then he looked at me more closely.
"You're going to make a move soon, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Who's your target?"
I didn't answer.
He smiled faintly. "You don't have to tell me. Just be careful where you aim."
He turned to go.
But before he left, he added, "By the way. That girl with the crane pin? Her name is Yilan. She's not as innocent as she looks."
"What is she?"
"She's the one who delivered the blood-written note."
---
My breath caught.
I turned quickly, but he was already gone.
Behind me, the wind stirred the cherry blossoms.
And somewhere deeper in the garden, a soft laugh echoed — light, sharp, and very, very close.
Chapter 22: The Girl with the Black Crane
The garden was empty when I returned the next morning.
No laughter. No footsteps. Just dew on the stones and petals drifting through the air like pieces of forgotten words.
But I wasn't alone.
I could feel it.
Someone was watching.
"Come out," I said, keeping my voice calm. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have made it this far."
For a moment, silence.
Then from behind the camellia bushes, a figure stepped into view.
Yilan.
The girl who had worn the black jade crane. The girl Xiao Yuren claimed had written traitor in blood.
She bowed.
It was too perfect. Too rehearsed.
"Your Highness," she said. "You have sharp eyes."
"And you have sharp ink."
Her smile didn't fade. "You read the note."
"I did."
"Good. That means we can speak plainly."
I didn't tell her I had burned it.
I waited.
She walked toward me, her hands folded neatly over her sash. Everything about her was clean, precise, unshakable. That made her dangerous.
"Who are you really?" I asked.
She looked up. Her eyes weren't frightened. They were focused.
"My name is Yilan. My mother served the late Prince Jihao until the day he disappeared."
"So you work for him?"
"I work for what he stood for. He believed the court needed cleansing. So do I."
"And what did the note mean?"
"It meant this: if you continue down this path, people will die."
"They already have."
Yilan stepped closer.
"This isn't a game, Your Highness. You wear the prince's ring, but you're not part of his cause. Not yet. And if you pretend to be, you'll ruin everything we've built."
"You're threatening me?"
"I'm giving you a chance to decide."
"To do what?"
"To either walk away or step in with both feet."
I stared at her.
"You want me to join you."
She didn't answer.
She didn't have to.
---
Later that night, I lit a single candle and placed the ring beside it.
The flame flickered, catching on the green jade.
Behind me, Jiu'er stirred in her sleep.
I couldn't.
Yilan was right about one thing. This was no longer a game.
If I joined her, I would become part of a secret war. A rebellion. A shadow court beneath the real one.
If I didn't, they would see me as a liability. A walking death sentence.
And yet… she hadn't killed me.
She had offered me a choice.
---
In the early hours of dawn, I left my room without a sound.
I made my way toward the old stone library behind the prayer hall. A place few visited. A place that once stored the personal records of the royal family before the fire.
If Jihao had survived, if there was anything left of him, it would be there.
The sky was still gray when I arrived.
The doors were unlocked.
Inside, the air was thick with dust.
Shelves leaned like old men, crumbling scrolls scattered like forgotten bones.
I searched the back corner, brushing aside old curtains.
And there it was.
A book bound in black.
No title.
No seal.
Just the smell of smoke and secrets.
I opened it slowly.
Inside, rows of names. Margins filled with inked notes and red marks.
Jihao's name was there.
And beside it, another.
Zhao Lianhua.
My name.
Not as Empress. Not as wife.
But as something else.
Next to it, one phrase written in small, careful letters.
"The final key."
My fingers trembled.
What did it mean?
What had Jihao written about me before he disappeared?
I turned the page.
But before I could read further, I heard it.
A soft breath behind me.
Too close.
I spun around—
And saw a dagger flash from the shadows.