Lin Qian had officially survived twenty-four hours in the Phoenix Lord's service.
Barely.
Now he faced a new trial: sitting silently in the grand audience hall while Feng Lianhua presided over a meeting of ministers.
Lin Qian's job, according to the steward, was simple: stand there and look obedient.
Easy enough—until the shouting began.
"The border lords grow restless!" one minister bellowed. "If Your Lordship does not commit more troops, rebellion will be inevitable!"
Another sneered. "And where shall those troops come from? Shall we strip the capital bare, all to satisfy your paranoia?"
Lin Qian shifted uncomfortably. The tension in the room was hotter than the brazier fires. He sneaked a glance at Feng Lianhua—serene, unreadable, his gaze like flame hidden behind glass.
Then the insults started. The ministers weren't just arguing with each other—they were baiting him.
"Perhaps our Phoenix Lord has grown… complacent," one drawled. "All fire, but no direction."
Lin Qian froze.
That was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea.
Feng Lianhua's eyes narrowed, the air shimmering with heat. Ministers shifted uneasily, sweat dripping down their temples.
Before Lin Qian could stop himself, he blurted:
"W-well, at least he hasn't lost his hair like you!"
The hall went silent.
Lin Qian's stomach dropped. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.
The insulted minister turned red as a beet. Feng Lianhua arched one perfect brow, clearly amused.
"Lin Qian," the Phoenix Lord said softly, "did I give you permission to speak?"
Lin Qian swallowed. "Um. No?"
"Then why did you?"
"Because—because—" He flailed helplessly. "Because if you burned him alive, it would be messy, and I thought words were… cleaner?"
The silence stretched. Feng Lianhua's lips curved—just barely—into something that might have been a smile.
"Very well," he said, turning back to the court. "As you see, even my attendant recognizes insolence when he hears it. Let this be your final warning."
The ministers bowed hastily, none daring to argue further.
Lin Qian sagged in relief. Somehow, unbelievably, he hadn't been set on fire.
---
Later, when the hall was empty, Feng Lianhua lingered on the throne, eyes glinting in the torchlight.
"You are reckless," he said.
Lin Qian bristled. "I saved you from having to commit murder during a business meeting!"
The Phoenix Lord tilted his head, studying him. "And you think I needed saving?"
Lin Qian's mouth went dry. "I—I mean—no, of course not—"
But Feng Lianhua only chuckled, low and dangerous. "Still… interesting."
Lin Qian had no idea if that was good or bad. Probably both.
---
Secrets in the Flame
Lin Qian had learned three things in his short time as an attendant:
1. Tea must be brewed hot enough to melt stone.
2. Ministers had a death wish.
3. The Phoenix Lord never, ever slept.
Or so it seemed.
It was past midnight when Lin Qian found himself wandering the palace halls, clutching a stack of scrolls Feng Lianhua had dismissed him with. His arms ached, his eyes burned, and honestly—he was ready to stage a dramatic resignation by throwing himself out a window.
Then he heard it.
A low, broken sound. Not a voice of command, not the cool authority he'd grown used to—but something softer. Pained.
Curiosity—or stupidity—dragged him toward the sound. The doors to the inner sanctum were slightly ajar. Lin Qian hesitated, then nudged them open just enough to peek inside.
Feng Lianhua knelt before a brazier, firelight licking across his face. His usual flawless composure was gone. Sweat slicked his brow, his jaw tight with effort as the flames flared violently around him.
Lin Qian's heart lurched. He looked… fragile. For just a moment.
The fire surged higher, and Feng Lianhua hissed, clutching his chest.
Before he could think better of it, Lin Qian burst in. "Hey! Are you—are you dying?!"
Feng Lianhua's head snapped up, eyes blazing with more than fire. "Get out."
Lin Qian flinched but didn't move. "Like hell! You look like you're about to explode—literally!"
The flames whipped toward him, heat searing his skin. He raised his arms instinctively, bracing for impact—
—but the fire curved away, dissolving into sparks before it touched him.
Both of them froze.
Feng Lianhua's gaze sharpened, confusion flickering behind the fury. "You… weren't burned."
Lin Qian blinked, trembling. "Yeah, well, maybe your aim is just bad?"
The Phoenix Lord stared at him for a long moment, then laughed softly. Not mocking—just tired. "Interesting."
Lin Qian swallowed hard. "That's the second time you've called me that. Is this your way of saying 'thank you'?"
Feng Lianhua's smile faded into something unreadable. "No one has ever entered this chamber and lived. Remember that, Lin Qian."
Lin Qian's knees wobbled. Why do I always walk straight into death traps?
Still, he noticed something in those ember-bright eyes—not just fire, but loneliness. And for the first time, he wondered if serving the Phoenix Lord meant more than surviving his temper.
Maybe it meant understanding his pain.