Chaptet one :The final mission (Part 3 – The Prince Beneath the Plum Tree)
The fragrance of plum blossoms drifted through the courtyard, pale petals fluttering like whispers of winter's last breath. Shen Yifan stood alone beneath the ancient tree, her fingers brushing against the silk fabric of her borrowed robes. The morning sun was soft, but every ray that touched her skin reminded her of what she had lost — blood, love, and a name carved in betrayal.
Raven…
The name echoed faintly in her mind. It felt foreign now — a shadow's name in a world that glimmered with light.
A voice broke through her thoughts, calm and deep, edged with quiet authority.
"Miss Shen."
She turned sharply.
A man stood at the far end of the courtyard, framed by falling petals. He wore robes of white and silver, a sword strapped elegantly to his hip. His hair, bound high with a jade clasp, shimmered faintly under the light. And upon that clasp — two golden dragons chasing a pearl.
She froze.
That emblem. She had seen it on the banners that fluttered above the great palace gates.
It was the mark of royalty.
He approached slowly, every step deliberate yet graceful, his gaze steady but unreadable.
"Forgive the intrusion," he said, voice smooth, measured. "I am Li Wei, Second Prince of this realm. I heard you had awakened."
Prince? The word rang heavy. Her body instinctively bent into a curtsey, the motions coming to her like instinct though she had never bowed to anyone in her old life.
"Your Highness—"
"Please." His lips curved faintly. "Titles weigh enough on my shoulders. You may call me Li Wei when no eyes watch."
She blinked at him, unsure how to respond. A prince speaking to her — a stranger from another time — with such warmth? It was disarming.
In the world she came from, kindness was currency, traded rarely and spent carefully.
"They said you fainted by the lotus pond," he continued, stepping closer. "The physician feared fever, yet you stand as though reborn."
Her heart stuttered.
Reborn…
She swallowed, clutching the fabric at her waist. "I… feel different."
"Perhaps Heaven's will touched you," he murmured. "A crimson star blazed above the city last night. The astrologers claim it heralds the Child of Two Moons — one touched by life, one by death."
Her eyes widened slightly. The memory of the red lotus mark flashed in her mind — the one she'd seen faintly glowing on her forehead earlier, in the still waters of the basin.
Li Wei's gaze softened. "The mark you bear… it is not one seen in centuries."
He reached a hand toward her face, hesitating before his fingers brushed a lock of hair from her brow. His touch was careful, almost reverent.
"Strange," he whispered. "It feels familiar."
Yifan's breath caught. For a heartbeat, the world blurred — his face, the garden, the petals — all dissolving into fragments of memory.
She saw Tariq's eyes, warm once, cold before the end.
And now this prince's eyes, filled with something unspoken.
"Come," Li Wei said, lowering his hand. "The Council gathers today. The omen must be discussed, and your presence… it may decide what they choose to believe."
"My presence?" she asked, startled. "But I am no one—"
He smiled, faint but sincere. "No one would dare call the Child of Two Moons a nobody."
He extended his hand toward her — royal, steady, and yet not demanding.
Hesitation fluttered in her chest. But the warmth radiating from him… it was different. Not the false comfort Tariq had used to mask a dagger.
This warmth steadied her.
Slowly, she placed her hand in his.
A soft current rippled through her, a hum beneath her skin. For an instant, the plum blossoms paused midair, suspended as if the world itself held its breath.
Li Wei blinked, sensing it too. But he said nothing. He only smiled — the kind of smile that could be both shield and sword.
"This way."
---
They walked side by side through the palace gardens. Servants bowed as they passed, whispering behind their sleeves. "The omen child…" "A foreign face blessed by the stars…" "Will she rise or bring ruin?"
Yifan kept her eyes forward, pretending not to hear. In the modern world, whispers had followed her too — assassin, ghost, traitor — words sharp enough to bleed her dry. But here, the whispers felt like threads weaving her into something new.
Still, her chest ached with a familiar ache.
Tariq's voice… the warmth that turned to ice… the kiss before the blade…
Why did his memory still burn? Why did love, even now, feel like a wound that would not heal?
"You are troubled," Li Wei said gently beside her.
She forced a smile. "It's nothing."
He glanced at her — a prince used to lies, perhaps, but unwilling to call them out.
"I will not ask what haunts you," he said. "But I will say this — in this palace, truth can be more dangerous than silence."
They stopped before a marble staircase that spiraled upward toward a grand hall. The steps gleamed, flanked by carved dragons and phoenixes. At the top, great bronze doors waited, guarded by soldiers in silver armor.
"The Hall of Balance," Li Wei said. "The council meets within. Speak little, observe much. And remember—every gesture here has a shadow."
She nodded, gripping her sleeve tightly. "Understood."
He turned to her, and for a moment, the prince's mask slipped — revealing something softer, human.
"You need not fear me, Shen Yifan. Whatever fate brought you here, it seems… it has bound us together."
Her breath caught. Bound.
The word stirred something deep — a pull between them neither could name.
"I trust you," she said before she could stop herself.
He blinked — surprised, perhaps. Then, slowly, a small smile curved his lips. "Then let us see if trust can survive the court."
---
Inside, the hall was vast and gilded, its ceiling painted with constellations that shimmered faintly as though alive.
Old men in embroidered robes turned their heads as Li Wei entered, murmuring among themselves. A few frowned at Yifan's presence.
"Your Highness," one elder said, voice sharp. "You bring a stranger to the council?"
"She is no stranger," Li Wei replied, his voice steady. "The heavens marked her. You saw the crimson star."
Another scoffed. "Omens are for poets, not rulers."
But as the prince guided her to the center of the hall, the torches along the walls flared — flames twisting into twin shapes of moonlight and shadow. Gasps filled the air.
"She bears the mark!" someone whispered.
The red lotus on her forehead shimmered faintly in response.
Yifan's knees trembled, but Li Wei's hand remained at her back, steadying her — not possessive, but protective.
"See for yourselves," Li Wei said quietly. "Heaven chose its sign. The question now is whether we will listen."
---
The council's voices blurred into a distant hum. Yifan barely heard their words — prophecy, omen, fate — they spoke of her as if she were a relic, not a woman reborn from blood.
Her gaze drifted upward to the mural above — the twin moons, one silver, one crimson, locked in eternal orbit.
And beneath them, a figure cloaked in shadow, reaching toward light.
Is this what I am now? she wondered. A shadow reaching for something I can never touch?
Her chest ached. But then she glanced beside her — at Li Wei's calm profile, his steady breath, the quiet resolve in his eyes — and the ache softened.
Maybe, she thought, just maybe… there is more to this second life than vengeance.
---
As the council dismissed, Li Wei turned to her. "You handled their stares well."
"I've had practice," she murmured, lips curling faintly. "In my past life… I faced worse."
He arched a brow. "A past life?"
Yifan froze. She hadn't meant to say that aloud.
Li Wei studied her in silence — not with suspicion, but curiosity.
"Perhaps… one day, you'll tell me that story," he said softly.
She met his gaze, and something inside her — something wounded and wary — shifted.
"Yes," she whispered. "One day."
---
That night, beneath the twin moons, Shen Yifan stood alone again. The breeze was cool, carrying the scent of plum blossoms.
She looked up at the sky — two lights intertwined, one pale as truth, one red as blood.
Behind her, a voice spoke quietly.
"You looked like you were searching for something," Li Wei said, stepping into view.
She turned, smiling faintly. "Maybe I am."
"And did you find it?"
Her eyes lingered on him — the prince who offered warmth instead of chains, trust instead of lies.
"Not yet," she said softly. "But I think I'm getting close."
He smiled, and for the first time since her death, her heart — the one Tariq had broken — felt alive again.