By morning, Lin Qian was certain he'd dreamed the whole thing.
There was no way he'd barged into the Phoenix Lord's private chamber, yelled at him about dying, and then walked away without being reduced to ashes. Absolutely impossible.
Except… when he reached the outer court, the stares proved otherwise.
Whispers chased him down every corridor.
"That's him."
"The one who touched the Phoenix fire."
"Still has his eyebrows, too…"
Lin Qian tried to keep his head down, clutching the stack of scrolls like a shield. Ignore them. Pretend you're invisible. You're a lowly servant. No one notices servants.
Unfortunately, the ministers noticed.
By the time court session began, the hall buzzed with more interest in him than in state affairs. Lin Qian stood in his usual corner, praying to every ancestor he had left that Feng Lianhua wouldn't drag him into attention—
"Lin Qian."
His heart dropped into his stomach.
Every pair of eyes turned as the Phoenix Lord addressed him directly from the throne. His voice was smooth, detached, but Lin Qian swore there was a glimmer of amusement hidden there.
"Step forward."
Lin Qian shuffled out like a man on his way to execution. The murmurs rose.
"His name?"
"The Phoenix Lord remembers a servant's name?"
"Surely it means—"
Feng Lianhua ignored them all. He regarded Lin Qian with that unreadable calm. "Pour me tea."
Lin Qian nearly fainted. That was it? Tea? In front of half the kingdom's officials? He trembled so hard the porcelain rattled. Somehow, miraculously, he didn't spill a drop.
Feng Lianhua accepted the cup, sipped, then dismissed him with a lazy wave. "Competent."
That single word hit harder than a royal decree. The ministers' whispers grew frantic.
Lin Qian stumbled back to his corner, face burning. Great. Now they think I'm his favorite. They're going to kill me in my sleep, aren't they?
And in that moment, he realized—surviving the Phoenix Lord's fire was dangerous enough. Surviving the court's jealousy might be impossible.
---
The Lord's Shadow
Lin Qian had one very simple survival plan: stay quiet, stay invisible, and pray no one noticed him.
Unfortunately, the Phoenix Lord seemed determined to make that impossible.
"From now on," Feng Lianhua declared the next morning, his tone casual as if he were announcing the weather, "you will attend me directly."
Lin Qian nearly dropped the brush he was holding. "Directly? As in… every day? All the time? Me?"
Those ember-bright eyes lifted from the scroll. "Do you see anyone else here named Lin Qian?"
Lin Qian opened his mouth, then shut it. He had no comeback for that.
And so began his new life as a shadow.
He trailed Feng Lianhua through endless meetings, ceremonies, and inspections, carrying documents, pouring tea, occasionally catching falling vases when the Lord's flames flared too hot. By day three, he was convinced this was less a promotion and more a death sentence.
Still, he noticed things.
Feng Lianhua's temper was legendary, but his control was sharper. He never wasted words. He remembered every detail. And sometimes—when he thought no one was looking—the fire in his eyes dimmed into something that almost looked… lonely.
Lin Qian told himself not to care. Caring was dangerous. Caring meant getting burned.
But then came the test.
During a late-night review of border reports, the candles guttered out. Darkness swallowed the chamber, broken only by the sudden flare of phoenix fire curling in Feng Lianhua's palm.
Without warning, he held it toward Lin Qian.
"Touch it."
Lin Qian's eyes went wide. "What?!"
"Touch it," Feng repeated, voice soft but commanding.
Lin Qian's survival instincts screamed at him to run. But something in that gaze rooted him to the spot. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out.
The flame licked against his skin—warm, alive, but not burning.
His breath caught.
Feng Lianhua watched him with unreadable intensity. "As I thought."
Lin Qian yanked his hand back, cradling it against his chest. "You're insane! That could've killed me!"
"And yet it didn't."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. The firelight painted shadows across Feng's sharp features, making him look both fearsome and fragile.
Lin Qian's pulse raced. He hated how his voice came out softer than he intended. "What exactly… am I to you?"
Feng Lianhua leaned back, fire extinguished with a flick of his wrist. His lips curved into the faintest smile.
"My shadow."
Lin Qian's stomach flipped. He wasn't sure if that was a threat… or the beginning of something far more dangerous.
---
Assassins in the Hall
Lin Qian had many skills. Tea-brewing, complaining, and running away were at the top of the list. Sword fighting? Nowhere near it.
Which was why, when assassins stormed the outer hall, his first instinct was to scream and hide behind a column.
Steel clashed. Flames roared. Ministers scattered like startled pigeons while Feng Lianhua remained calm at the center of chaos, his phoenix fire flaring in elegant, deadly arcs. Every step he took reduced an assassin to ash.
Lin Qian tried to stay out of the way. Really, he did. But then one of the masked attackers broke through the flames and lunged straight for Feng's unguarded side.
Without thinking, Lin Qian hurled the only weapon he had—an inkstone.
It hit the assassin squarely on the forehead with a loud crack. The man stumbled, dazed. That half-second was all Feng needed. Fire consumed the attacker in a blinding flash.
Silence followed.
Lin Qian froze, ink still smeared on his fingers. Slowly, he lowered his arm. "...Did I just save your life with stationery?"
The Phoenix Lord turned, firelight still dancing across his face. For once, his expression betrayed surprise. Then—worse—a smile tugged at his lips.
"Amusing," he murmured. "Very amusing."
Lin Qian's knees nearly gave out. "I—I wasn't trying to be a hero! I was just—he was—there was nothing else to throw!"
Feng Lianhua stepped closer, gaze burning. "Nevertheless. You acted without hesitation."
Lin Qian wanted to melt into the floor. "It was an accident!"
The surviving ministers, meanwhile, whispered frantically among themselves.
"Did you see?"
"The servant protected him—"
"No one else would dare—"
Lin Qian's face turned bright red. He knew it. He was doomed. The whole palace now believed he was special.
And Feng Lianhua? He only looked at him with that same unreadable expression, as if Lin Qian were no longer just a servant… but something far more intriguing.