18 Years Later
Morning sunlight spilled across the stone paths of the imperial residence. Two groups of maids, one robed in violet and the other in blue, walked in neat rows toward the chambers of the twin princesses. Their footsteps echoed softly, their voices hushed but alive with gossip.
One maid, clutching the corner of her sleeve, leaned close to whisper. "I envy those who serve Princess Xiao. Unlike us, who must serve the jinx, Princess Yulan."
A newer maid frowned. "But… aren't they both of the imperial bloodline?"
The older one clicked her tongue quietly. "You're new, so you wouldn't know. The two princesses were born on the same day, but Heaven marked them with different fates. Princess Xiao is His Majesty's eldest daughter, born amidst auspicious signs. She was granted the title of Empyrean Consort before she could even walk. Grace and elegance follow her, she is everything a queen should be."
Another maid sighed, her voice carrying both pity and fear. "Second Princess Yulan is the opposite. When she was born, the skies darkened, and the Empress died in childbirth. Her wet nurse, too, met a mysterious end not long after. Ever since, His Majesty confined her to Zhaolu Hall. That place is more a prison than a palace chamber."
. . .
[ZHAOLU HALL]
On the high rafters of the dim hall, Princess Yulan lay sprawled on the wooden beam, her eyes shut tight as though willing away the weight of eighteen bitter years.
"They say I'm cursed. A jinx. That I bring death to everyone who nears me."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. She had heard the whispers since childhood—maids who avoided her, guards who looked at her as if she were a poisonous thing. Every cruel word had burrowed into her bones.
But then her eyes snapped open, sharp and alive.
"No," she whispered to herself, breath steady. "I will not surrender to this life. I will prove them wrong."
She swung her legs over and dropped down from the beam. The fall was reckless, rough, but she landed on her feet, knees bending to absorb the shock. A spark of defiance lit her gaze.
In front of the mirror, she dressed herself carefully, slipping pins into her dark hair and smoothing powder across her face. Each stroke of paint felt like armor.
"If they will not grant me dignity, I will carve it out for myself."
Her hand tightened around the doorframe as she pushed it open, only for a firm shove to knock her back. The heavy doors slammed shut, a guard's voice barking through the wood.
"His Majesty has ordered that you remain inside unless summoned."
Yulan stumbled a step, then straightened, fists trembling at her sides.
Always the same. Always a prisoner in her father's palace.
Her chest heaved as she shouted toward the closed door. "Eighteen years! My father has kept me locked here for eighteen years. Has he not had enough?"
Her voice cracked, echoing off the empty walls. She stamped her foot against the floor, fury burning in her veins, though her eyes shone with something deeper—hurt, longing, betrayal.
Drawing a slow breath, she whispered to herself, almost like a vow. "The day after tomorrow, my sister and I will be wed. Before I leave this place, revenge will be mine."
. . .
[PRINCESS XIAO'S CHAMBER]
Across the residence, in a chamber filled with soft golden light, Princess Xiao sat before her bronze mirror. Her maids worked in gentle silence, sliding jade hairpins into place and weaving silk ribbons into her hair.
Her gaze lingered on her reflection, though her thoughts were far away.
"The day after tomorrow… my sister and I will be married," she murmured, her tone heavy with sadness.
She had spent all her years within these palace walls, never far from her father's side. Now, as duty pulled her toward another life, an ache hollowed in her chest. Will he be lonely once she's gone? Will he think of her when she will be far away?
When her hair was finished, Xiao dismissed the last pin with a quiet smile. "Come. Walk with me to the imperial palace. Before I leave, I wish to spend some time with my father."
Her maids bowed, voices soft. "Yes, Princess."
They fell in step behind her as she glided out into the courtyard. Guards at the palace gate bowed deeply, fists pressed to their chests.
"Your Highness."
"Please," Xiao said gently, her voice calm as a breeze, "inform my father that I am here to greet him."
The guards exchanged looks before bowing again.
"Forgive us, Your Highness, but… His Majesty is not in the hall."
Her brows knitted together. "Not in the hall? Then where is he?"
The question lingered in the air, heavy with unease.
. . .
[ZHAOLU HALL]
Princess Yulan sat in her chamber, her posture poised yet restless. A thick book rested in her lap, its cracked leather cover smelling faintly of dust and old ink. Her lips curved into a smile as her eyes skimmed the words.
"Voidwalkers are evil, violent, and ungrateful. Use all means—that is how one survives there."
Yulan's fingers brushed the lines as though they were precious truths carved into stone. She shut the book gently, a sharp gleam in her eyes. "What an enlightening book," she murmured. "I've learned so much."
From the bed across the room came the muffled clink of ropes straining. The Emperor, bound hand and foot, struggled upright. His face was pale, fury burning through his regal mask.
"You villainous daughter," he rasped, his voice sharp enough to cut. "How dare you abduct your own father? Release me at once!"
Yulan rose with unhurried grace, her silken robes whispering against the floor. She rolled her eyes, the gesture more weary than dramatic, and strode to him. Without hesitation, she pushed a wad of cotton between his teeth.
"You? My father?" Her laugh was low, brittle. She leaned close, fisting his hair, forcing him to look at her. "Look around you. Tell me what father locks his daughter away like a criminal for eighteen years?"
The Emperor's eyes blazed, but he could not speak.
Her anger, long buried, cracked open like a storm. "Since the day I was born, you've tried to erase me. Rejection. Confinement. Abandonment. Have you ever shown me even a trace of affection?"
Her voice trembled as much from rage as from sorrow.
"You are my father in name only. In truth, you've always treated me like an enemy. And why? Because of signs in the sky? Because of omens?" Her lips curled, bitter. "Destiny is not something an infant chooses!"
For the first time, his gaze softened—not with love, but with the faintest recognition of her pain.
That look pierced her deeper than any scorn. Tears welled hot in her eyes. She tried to blink them back, but one slipped free, sliding down her cheek.
"You favour Xiao," she whispered, her voice breaking, "and cast me aside as if I were poison. Do you know how it feels to hear, again and again, that I can never be her?"
The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.
With a sharp breath, Yulan wiped the tear away as if it shamed her. Her voice hardened again, iron over glass. "In two days, I will be married to the Voidwalkers. For other girls, this is the moment to cherish—one last bond with her father before parting. But me?" She let out a broken laugh. "I come only to settle scores. How ridiculous."
She grabbed his shoulders and shook him, fury spilling over. "If you hated me so much, why bring me into this world?"
The Emperor made muffled protests against the cotton gag, his voice low and urgent.
"Answer me!" she demanded, shaking him again.
And then—suddenly—the ropes slackened. His body rippled like water, flesh and robes shifting. In the blink of an eye, the figure bound on the bed was gone. In its place sat a young woman, slender, sharp-eyed, and very much not the Emperor.
Yulan staggered back, eyes wide. "What…?"
The girl smoothed her sleeve, glaring. "Young master, you told me to keep you busy so others wouldn't bully you. I never agreed to be your punching bag."
Yulan's lips parted in shock, then pressed into a hard line. "Transform back," she snapped. "I'm not finished with him yet."
The girl arched a brow, unbothered. "No. If you're upset, then confront your father yourself. What's the point of playing pretend every day? It's exhausting."
With a flick of her wrist, the ropes dropped to the floor. She turned to leave.
But Yulan caught her wrist, grip firm, eyes blazing. "I won't show my weakness to that stone-hearted man. Do you hear me? Transform back." Her voice cracked like a whip.
She pushed the girl gently back toward the bed, forcing her down with sheer determination.
"You—!" the girl began, frustrated.
But Yulan leaned closer, her face set, her voice dropping low. "Watch. The climax is about to begin."
The girl groaned loudly, rolling her eyes with theatrical annoyance.