The morning sun spilled generously across the palace, flooding the polished corridors with light so bright it seemed almost unreal. Gold and white marble glimmered as if the entire palace had been gilded for the day, and the faint rustle of silk robes echoed somewhere in the distance.
XiaoQi kept her steps soft, her slippers barely whispering against the floor as she hugged a small bundle of herbs and remedies close to her chest. The bundle was warm from her body heat, fragrant with dried mint, feverfew, and a tincture she had brewed the night before.
Her destination was a servant's quarters on the far side of the palace, a place she had no business wandering to. She had overheard whispers—one of the kitchen girls had been struck down with a stubborn fever, too weak to rise, her family unable to afford outside remedies. The palace physicians had not bothered; a mere servant was not worth their time.
And XiaoQi, stubborn and sharp-tongued as she was, could not turn her back on someone suffering.
Bai Hu padded along at her side, his snowy tail swishing with restless energy. The little fox spirit cast her a sidelong glance, golden eyes glowing faintly in the sunlight. "You are taking a huge risk, you know," he muttered, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. "If the wrong eyes see you sneaking about, especially with medicine, they will twist it against you."
XiaoQi arched a brow and adjusted her grip on the bundle. "Better a little risk than sitting idle while someone burns with fever," she whispered back, determination flashing in her gaze. "What kind of person would I be if I pretended not to hear their pain?"
The fox gave an exaggerated sigh, trotting faster to keep pace with her longer stride. "The kind of person who survives in a palace like this. Compassion is weakness here, XiaoQi. They will use it against you."
She stopped at the corner of the hallway, peeking around before stepping into the next stretch of corridor. A group of young eunuchs passed by in hushed conversation, their eyes glued to the floor, never sparing her a glance. She waited until they disappeared before moving again.
"Then let them," she said softly, her jaw tightening. "If being human is weakness, I would rather remain weak than turn into stone like the rest of them."
Bai Hu flicked his ear, studying her with an expression caught between admiration and exasperation. "You are too reckless," he murmured. "One day, that fire of yours will draw predators."
XiaoQi only smirked faintly, though her heart beat quicker at his words. "Then let them try. They will find I am not so easy to swallow."
The fox gave a soft huff, though his tail wagged once, betraying his approval despite the warning.
As she approached the servant's quarters, the air became cooler and quieter. The shiny marble gave way to plainer stone tiles, and the scents of incense and aromatic oils faded into the faint smell of simmering broth and newly washed linen. Away from the grandeur of the great rooms, the palace felt different—less like a golden cage and more like a living space where tired hands and hearts kept it operating.
XiaoQi slowed her steps, her gaze softening as she approached the door. She could already hear faint coughing from within, punctuated by the worried murmurs of another servant. Her fingers tightened around the bundle.
"Stay close," she whispered to Bai Hu, lifting her chin as though steeling herself. "We will make this quick."
The little fox padded forward, ears flicking, ready to slip into shadows should anyone approach.
With a gentle breath, XiaoQi raised her hand and knocked softly on the worn wooden door.
The door creaked softly as she pushed it open. A rush of warm, stale air greeted her, heavy with the faint scent of sickness. Inside, the quarters were dim and modest, a single narrow bed pressed against the wall, a chipped water basin nearby.
A young girl lay tangled in thin blankets, her forehead glistening with sweat, her breath shallow and uneven. Another servant sat anxiously at her side, wringing her hands until her knuckles whitened. At the sight of XiaoQi, she startled, bowing quickly.
"Lady Chen," the servant stammered. "You should not be here. If the stewards find out—"
"They will not," XiaoQi said gently, setting her bundle down. She untied the cloth with deft fingers, spreading herbs and jars across the small table. "Let me see her."
The servant hesitated only a moment before stepping aside, relief breaking through her worry.
Kneeling at the bedside, XiaoQi set her bundle down and worked quickly, her slender fingers deft with practice. She ground feverfew leaves against a smooth stone, mixing them with a few drops of cooled water before spreading the paste across the girl's burning temples. The girl stirred, lashes trembling, before her eyes fluttered open. Her face was pale, damp with sweat, but relief softened her expression at the touch of XiaoQi's hand.
"Drink only water for now," XiaoQi murmured, her tone gentle yet firm. "Not too much at once. And keep a damp cloth against her neck," she added, glancing at the older servant kneeling anxiously by the cot. "That will help draw the heat down."
"It will pass," XiaoQi murmured, more to soothe than to explain.
The girl stirred again, lashes lifting just slightly. Her gaze, fever-bright and hazy, fixed on XiaoQi's face. Gratitude flickered there, faint but unmistakable, even through the pallor of her cheeks.
"Thank you... Lady Chen," she whispered, her voice weak as a sigh.
XiaoQi's lips curved in a soft, fleeting smile, a warmth rarely seen in the cold confines of the palace. "Rest well," she said quietly, smoothing a stray strand of hair from the girl's damp forehead. "I will check again later."
The girl's eyes closed once more, her breathing slowly evening out.
XiaoQi stayed kneeling for a moment longer, ensuring the paste had settled, then rose to her feet. Her fingers brushed against the folded cloths she had brought, and she laid one across the girl's forehead to cool her further.
Unbeknownst to her, someone stood in the doorway.
DongZe leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his broad frame filling the narrow entrance. He had come to inspect the palace grounds, expecting mischief, a hidden scheme, perhaps another one of XiaoQi's ridiculous tricks.
He watched, silent, eyes sharp as a blade but unblinking.
The sight struck him strangely. Her hair, unbound and loose, slipped forward around her cheeks, softening her usual fiery presence. Her lips, which so often curled in sarcasm or sharp retorts, were calm now, whispering encouragement to someone who had nothing to offer her in return.
She did not look like the wildcat who had mocked him, baited him, and forced him to chase her across the courtyard. She looked... human. Real.
And in that quiet humanity, something inside him shifted.
DongZe's jaw tightened, as though he could bite down on the feeling rising in his chest. It was not anger, though that was familiar. It was not humiliation, though he had felt that too often around her. This was something far more dangerous. A heaviness in his chest, an ache that made his breath falter for a moment.
I could get used to this, he thought, the admission sour and sweet at once. But I will not say it.
Bai Hu's ear flicked. The fox spirit turned his golden eyes toward the door and narrowed them, sensing the presence instantly. But he said nothing, tail curling tighter.
XiaoQi straightened, unaware of the figure in the doorway. She wiped her hands on a clean cloth, glanced once more at the girl, and allowed herself a small sigh of relief. "She will recover," she murmured to herself. "She only needed a little care."
"Is this how you spend your mornings?"
The voice, low and commanding, cut through the stillness like a blade.
XiaoQi spun around, startled. Her eyes widened when she saw DongZe lounging in the doorway, his arms folded, his expression unreadable save for the sharp glint in his gaze.
Her pulse leapt. "You—how long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough," he replied smoothly, his tone laced with something she could not place. He stepped into the room, his presence filling the small space, his gaze flicking briefly toward the sick girl before settling back on her. "You hide your claws here, tending to the weak, when the whole palace thinks you are nothing but defiance."
XiaoQi bristled, colour rushing to her cheeks. "So what if I do? Am I not allowed to care for someone? Or must every act in this palace be done with cruelty to be considered acceptable?"
DongZe tilted his head, studying her with unnerving intensity. "Compassion makes you vulnerable," he said quietly. "It makes you soft. And softness, in this place, is dangerous."
She lifted her chin, fire igniting again behind her embarrassment. "If softness is dangerous, then I will gladly be dangerous. Better that than cold, heartless stone like the rest of you."
For a moment, silence hung between them, thick and charged.
Then DongZe's lips curved, faint but undeniable. "You never cease to surprise me."
Her breath caught at the way his voice dropped lower, almost warm despite the words. She blinked rapidly, forcing herself to look away, forcing her heart to slow. "Do not watch me like that," she muttered. "I am not one of your soldiers to be inspected."
"On the contrary," he said, his smirk deepening as he took another step closer. "You are far more fascinating."
XiaoQi's cheeks burned hotter, but she refused to step back. Bai Hu leapt down from the stool, slipping silently between them, tail flicking sharply as though to remind the Crown Prince of his place.
DongZe's eyes glinted with amusement at the protective gesture, but he did not push further. Instead, he let his gaze linger on XiaoQi a heartbeat longer, memorizing the image of her flushed face, her stubborn fire, and the faint trace of gentleness she had not meant to reveal.
Then he turned to leave, his voice smooth and deliberate. "Do not keep secrets from me, XiaoQi. I always find them."
His footsteps faded down the hall, leaving her standing frozen in the small chamber, her heart pounding with equal parts fury and confusion.
She pressed a hand to her chest, scowling at the quick rhythm beneath her palm. "Infuriating man," she whispered. Yet even as she said it, a traitorous shiver traced her spine.
Not every pair of eyes in the palace softened at the sight of XiaoQi tending the sick servant.
From a pavilion across the courtyard, Concubine Lian stood stiffly, her embroidered fan clutched so tightly that the lacquered ribs trembled in her hand. Her painted lips curved into the semblance of a smile, but the strain in her jaw betrayed her.
"She dares," she whispered, the words pressed through clenched teeth as she leaned closer to the women at her side. Her voice carried the faintest quiver, a blend of outrage and disbelief. "The Crown Prince should not waste even a glance on such a woman. Look at her. No refinement. No breeding. Not even a title worth mentioning."
Her companions tittered nervously, unsure whether to agree or remain silent, their eyes darting to gauge how far Lian's temper might flare.
Concubine Mei sat nearby, fanning herself with delicate poise. Unlike Lian, her expression was cool, her smile faint and unreadable. Yet as her gaze lingered on XiaoQi and then on the Crown Prince watching from the doorway, her fan stilled in mid-motion. For the briefest moment, the curve of her lips faltered.
Lian noticed.
"You see it too, do you not?" she pressed, her voice dropping low. "That wild girl is dangerous. The Prince looks at her differently. As if she has bewitched him."
Mei lowered her lashes, her silence more telling than words. When she finally spoke, her tone was light, but her words carried a sharpened edge. "Perhaps it is not bewitchment. Men are fickle. What is new and untamed often draws the eye."
Lian snapped her fan shut with a sharp crack, drawing a few startled glances from the other ladies. Color burned high on her cheeks, not from embarrassment but from fury. "Untamed? She is unfit to stand in his presence. I have served the palace for years, endured its rules, polished every smile and every word. And yet he looks at her as though she... as though she matters."
Her voice broke, trembling with an emotion too raw to be concealed. She pressed her fan against her lips to steady herself, but her eyes glittered with resentment.
The younger concubines exchanged wary glances. Some nodded in sympathy, others pressed their lips shut, unwilling to risk taking a side. Court life had taught them well that jealousy was a fire that could consume anyone too close to its heat.
Mei's gaze flicked once more toward the Prince, still lingering in the doorway of the servant's quarters, his tall figure framed by shadow and light. She saw the faint tension in his jaw, the way his eyes followed XiaoQi as though nothing else existed in the world.
For the first time in years, Mei's carefully guarded calm wavered. A faint frown tugged at the corner of her mouth before she quickly smoothed it away.
She set her fan against her chin, her voice a soft murmur that only Lian could hear. "Careful, sister. Anger makes the tongue reckless. If the Prince's eyes wander, it is not because of her. It is because he has grown weary of what he already knows."
Lian turned to her sharply, but Mei's smile was already back in place, serene and unshaken.
Later that afternoon, the concubines gathered in the shade of a flowering magnolia tree. Their maids hovered nearby, but far enough to feign ignorance of the whispered tones that drifted between the ladies.
Concubine Lian's fan flicked open and shut with restless energy. "The Crown Prince cannot be allowed to... linger on her. If we do nothing, she will think herself equal to us." Her eyes glinted coldly as she took a delicate sip of tea, though her grip trembled faintly against the porcelain cup.
The younger concubines exchanged uncertain looks. To speak against Lian was to risk her wrath, yet to agree too loudly might put them at risk if the Prince's favor shifted. Their silence stretched, heavy and cautious.
Concubine Mei set down her cup with deliberate grace. Her smile was light, her voice smooth as silk. "Then perhaps we should remind her where she belongs. Not with anger or open hostility — no, that would only amuse her. She seems to thrive on defiance."
Lian leaned forward, hope flaring in her eyes. "What do you suggest?"
Mei tapped her closed fan gently against her palm, as though considering. "A gentle... correction. Something subtle. A task too fine for her crude hands. An occasion where her lack of polish will be plain for all to see."
The younger concubines tittered nervously, emboldened by Mei's calm tone. One whispered, "Perhaps at the Mid-Autumn banquet. She could be asked to present a poem before the court. What if she stumbles?"
Another added eagerly, "Or... a dance. The Prince may protect her tongue, but he cannot shield clumsy steps."
Lian's eyes lit with cruel satisfaction. "Yes. Yes, let her make a fool of herself. Let the Prince see she is nothing more than a wild girl playing dress-up in the palace."
But Mei's gaze lingered on Lian a beat too long, her smile never wavering. "We must be careful. If the Prince suspects malice, it will only make him cling tighter to her. The trick is to make her fall by her own hand. To let her reveal what she is without us ever lifting a finger."
Lian bristled at the implication, but nodded stiffly. "Fine. Subtle, then. But she will fall."
Above them, the magnolia blossoms swayed in the breeze, their petals drifting softly to the ground. The scene looked serene, almost idyllic, but beneath the perfumed air, ambition and envy coiled like hidden snakes.
And so the stage was set. A banquet, a public test, and a trap woven with silken smiles.