Subtitle: The mirror is the trap, the heart is the key. When truth is reflected, who can face their own shadow?
The third watch of the night draped the imperial city in a silence as thick and dark as spilled ink. The sound of a single bronze bell marked the hour, its resonance devoured by corridors coiled with stone dragons. High in the innermost palace, the new Emperor stood motionless before a window open to the chill. The intricate latticework of the glazed palace lanterns cast his silhouette into a mosaic of fractured light and shadow.
A shadow, wrapped in robes the color of the night itself, knelt upon the cold jade tiles. "Your Majesty," the voice was a hushed exhalation, "The mirror array at the Seventh Prince's manor hums to life. General Chu and Strategist Shen have both entered the game."
The Emperor's long, pale fingers rested on the cinnabar-red railing. A slow, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. "One mirror, three reflections," he murmured. "One, the warrior draped in crimson; one, the strategist shackled in frost; and one — my imperial brother." He turned, his eyes, dark and depthless, settling on the kneeling man. "The throne demands reflection, too. Let us see who in this game will first see their reflection, and who… will be the first to shatter."
Beyond the main palace complex, where the high walls cast their longest shadows, the air grew cold and thick with a clinging, unnatural mist. A woman stood in the lee of a curved eave, her form sheathed in unadorned black, her face hidden behind a veil. In her gloved hand, a jade slip pulsed with a faint, sickly blue light.
Another shadow emerged from the gloom, kneeling with practiced silence. "Chief, the mirror array is active. Shen Yuzhu's anomalous meridians are resonating. The disturbance is... considerable."
The woman, known only as the Chief of the Night Crow Division, did not turn. "Report to His Majesty," she said softly, her voice a whisper that seemed to condense the very mist around them. "The second layer has moved. The lines are holding. The echo will not escape us."
The messenger vanished. Only then did the Chief allow her stillness to break. "You taught me to see the cage, Shen Yuzhu," she whispered, the words a vow and a threat woven into one. "Now, let me teach you how deep the cage truly runs, and what it means to be caged within a cage."
Within the secluded Guiyun Villa, the air was heavy with the cloying scent of rare herbs and desperation. A single medicinal lamp flickered valiantly on a low table. On the bed, Shen Yuzhu's body went rigid. His eyes flew open, wide with a terror born from within. A cold sweat drenched his brow.
Beside him, Lu Wanning's fingers were pressed to the pulse point on his wrist, her own face pale. "The energies are clashing violently," she breathed. "Two spiritual meridians, fire and ice, are at war inside you—this is not natural. It feels… guided."
Shen Yuzhu managed a weak, bitter smile. "The guidance… comes from the Seventh Prince's mirror array. He's tuning the mirrors to the rhythm of our fate." His voice was a ragged scrape.
The door slid open with a violent shriek, and Gu Changfeng stood framed in the doorway, his face a mask of grim fury. "He's forcing your hand! Dragging you into his spectacle!"
"No," Shen Yuzhu said at last, his voice quieter now, stripped of warmth.
His body trembled, but his eyes remained sharp — too clear, too cold.
"He isn't forcing me. He's mirroring me. My weakness, my illness, even my errors — all of them, reflections he's polished into his glass. And through me… he's reflecting Hongying."
He rose from the bed with slow precision, the kind of movement that carried no emotion, only resolve.
"If the mirror has been opened," he murmured, almost to himself, "then I'll be the first to face it."
Lu Wanning moved to block his path. "Your meridians are in chaos—your pulse is unstable," she said, her voice trembling though she kept it low. "If you take another step, you won't just be entering his game—you'll be throwing away your life!"
Shen Yuzhu turned his head slightly, his expression unchanging. "If this life cannot be preserved, then let it enter the mirror first."
"Shen Yuzhu!" The name tore from her, sharp with a frustration she rarely showed. "You've never feared death—only living long enough to truly see yourself!"
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his bloodless lips. "Perhaps." He took a step toward the door, his tone final. "I go to meet my reflection."
He crossed the threshold—then staggered. A violent tremor wracked his frame. Dark blood traced a path down his sleeve. He fought to stand for one suspended moment, then collapsed.
Lu Wanning rushed forward, catching him as he fell, her knees hitting the floor beside him. "I knew... I knew you couldn't sustain it," she whispered, the words laced with anger and a trembling ache. She settled him back onto the bed, her fingers flying to his wrist. Her brow furrowed. "The mirror array is retaliating... His lifeline is resonating with Hongying's."
She stared at the faint, glowing pattern on his brow—its shape an exact match for the scar on Chu Hongying's neck. Her breath caught. "This is no coincidence... It's origin."
Before she could process this, the villa trembled. A ceramic medicine bowl rattled off its table and shattered on the floor.
Gu Changfeng stood abruptly, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. "The resonance grows stronger. I can feel it in the steel." His gaze swept the room, as if expecting the walls themselves to crack. "I'm going to the Seventh Prince's manor. I will not stand by while they use him as a pawn in their game."
"No!" Lu Wanning grabbed his arm. "The mirror array is a spiritual labyrinth. To enter unprepared is to invite death!"
"Then let my blade be the key that breaks it!" he declared, shaking her off. At the doorway, he paused, looking back at Shen Yuzhu's still form. "Some truths are worth dying for. Tell him... tell him I finally understood what he meant about cages." He strode into the night without looking back.
Lu Wanning stood alone, the silence of the villa pressing in on her. She moved to the cabinet, her hands selecting vials not with a healer's measured care, but with the swift, decisive motions of a strategist preparing for battle. As she ground the herbs, her gaze kept returning to Shen Yuzhu's still form. She hesitated for a moment, then glanced toward the small bronze compass resting in the corner of the desk—a relic her old mentor had left behind. The needle quivered faintly, though there was no wind.
"Someone must be the first to shatter the glass," she murmured, the words both a lament and a resolve, "for the truth to finally be seen." Her hands stilled for a moment, hovering over the mortar. "And if the mirror shows what I suspect… then the healing must come after the breaking." Her gaze drifted back to the unconscious Shen Yuzhu. "Always watching," she whispered, though the room was empty. "Even from afar." "This time... how many layers of reflection will you hide behind?"
The mirror breathes. The fates resound. Beneath the night, everything has only just begun.