The world had narrowed to a single point of horror.
Yuelai knelt in the spreading pool of blood and rainwater, unable to move, unable to breathe. Her brother's lifeless eyes stared at nothing from the severed head in the killer's hand. The pendant around her neck—Junwei's final gift—felt like it was choking her.
The figure stepped closer, and the lightning flashed.
For one terrible moment, his face was illuminated.
Those eyes. She knew those eyes. Had looked into them a thousand times with trust, with affection, with—
"Tianyu?"
Her voice cracked on his name. Disbelief. Denial. This couldn't be real. This was a nightmare. It had to be.
But the blood was real. The head in his hand was real. And those familiar eyes, now cold as winter steel, were real.
"You weren't supposed to see this." His voice was flat, emotionless, as if commenting on the weather. Blood dripped steadily from the sword in his left hand, from his arms, from his face. "Why are you making life hard for yourself, Yuelai?"
The casual use of her name—the same warm tone he'd used in the garden hours ago—shattered something inside her.
"What—" She couldn't form words. Couldn't think. Her mind kept trying to make sense of the impossible. "What did you—"
"Guards!" Tianyu's voice rang out, sharp and commanding. "Guards, to me!"
The sound of running feet echoed through the corridors. Within moments, a dozen soldiers burst into the room, their torches casting flickering light across the carnage. They stopped short at the threshold, taking in the scene: the Crown Prince's body slumped in the corner, the severed head, the blood everywhere, and Princess Yuelai kneeling in the middle of it all, her clothes soaked red.
"The Princess has murdered Crown Prince Junwei," Tianyu announced, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. "Take her into custody immediately. Confine her to her chambers. And execute everyone in her palace for treason—every servant, every maid, every guard who served her. They are all complicit in the murder of our Crown Prince."
"No—" Yuelai's voice was barely a whisper. "No, I didn't—"
But the soldiers were already moving toward her, weapons drawn.
Something snapped inside her.
Her brain couldn't process what was happening. The drug in her system made everything feel distant, unreal. But her body moved on pure instinct. As the nearest soldier reached for her, Yuelai's hand shot out and grabbed his sword from his belt.
The weight of it felt right. Familiar. Real.
She lurched to her feet, stumbling but managing to stay upright. The soldiers hesitated, forming a cautious circle around her. Through her blurred vision, she could see their faces—uncertain, afraid. They knew her. Had seen her training in the courtyards. Knew what she could do with a blade.
But there was only one person she wanted to hurt.
Yuelai raised the sword and charged at Tianyu with every ounce of strength left in her failing body.
He didn't move to dodge. Didn't even flinch.
As her blade descended toward his neck, his hands came up—bare, empty—and caught the blade between his palms. The steel bit into his flesh, drawing blood, but his grip was iron. Yuelai pushed with all her might, tears streaming down her face, a scream building in her throat.
Tianyu looked at her with those cold, dead eyes. The same eyes that had smiled at her in the garden. The same eyes that had watched her grow up. The same eyes she'd trusted with her whole heart.
"If only you could have stayed in your room," he said quietly. Almost sadly.
The sword fell from Yuelai's nerveless fingers as the last of her strength gave out. The world tilted. She saw the floor rushing up to meet her, felt the impact distantly, as if it were happening to someone else.
Tianyu's face swam above her, blood dripping from his wounded hands onto her cheek.
Then darkness swallowed her whole.
---
Pain.
That was the first thing Yuelai became aware of. Not physical pain—though her body ached in a dozen places—but a deeper agony that seemed to consume her from the inside out.
She opened her eyes to morning light filtering through familiar silk curtains. Her own chambers. Her own bed. For one blessed moment, she thought it had all been a nightmare.
Then she tried to move and found her wrists bound to the bedposts with silk cords.
And she saw him.
Tianyu sat in a chair beside her bed, perfectly composed. He'd changed clothes—gone was the blood-soaked uniform. Now he wore the formal robes of a high official, his wounded hands wrapped in clean white bandages. He looked like he'd simply come to pay a courtesy visit to his fiancée.
The sight of him—calm, clean, comfortable—ignited something volcanic inside her.
Yuelai's hand flew to her hair. The ornamental hairpin—the one with the hidden dagger, a gift from Junwei for her protection—was still there. Her fingers closed around it, pulled it free. The small blade gleamed as she lunged at him with a wordless scream.
"WHY?"
Tianyu moved with the fluid grace of a trained warrior. He caught her wrist easily, redirecting her momentum. Yuelai was still weak from the drug, still recovering, and she had no leverage. She stumbled and fell hard to the floor, the dagger skittering away across the polished wood.
She tried to crawl after it, but her limbs wouldn't cooperate. Everything hurt. Everything was wrong.
Strong hands gripped her face, lifting it. Tianyu had knelt in front of her, his expression still maddeningly calm. He held her jaw firmly, forcing her to look at him.
"Everyone in your palace has been executed for treason," he said, his tone conversational. Clinical. "Your maids. Your guards. Your servants. All of them. Including Xiaoyu."
Xiaoyu. Sweet, worried Xiaoyu, who had fretted over her like a mother hen. Who had served her faithfully for years. Who had done nothing wrong except be loyal to the wrong princess.
"Only because of you," Tianyu continued, his thumb wiping away a tear she hadn't realized was falling. "If only you had listened to me. If only you had stayed in your room like I told you. They would still be alive."
The words struck like physical blows. Yuelai stared at him, unable to speak, unable to even process what he was saying. He was blaming her? For the murders he had committed? For the innocent lives he had taken?
"You will be marrying me in two days," Tianyu said, releasing her face and standing. He looked down at her with something that might have been pity. Or contempt. She couldn't tell anymore. "So stop crying. It will be better if you behave yourself and forget everything that happened."
The dismissive words—forget everything—cut through the haze of grief and shock.
Yuelai grabbed the edge of a nearby table and hauled herself to her feet. Her legs shook. Her vision swam. But pure rage gave her strength she shouldn't have had.
"Why?" The word came out as a shout, raw and broken. "Why did you kill him? Why?"
Tianyu paused at the door, his hand on the frame.
"For the throne?" Yuelai's voice cracked. "Our relationship—everything between us—it was just a cover, wasn't it? All of it. Every moment. Just for the throne?"
She waited for an answer. For some explanation that would make sense of the impossible. For him to tell her it wasn't what it looked like. For the boy she'd grown up with to reappear, even for a moment.
But Tianyu said nothing.
He simply looked at her for a long moment—his expression unreadable—then walked out.
The door closed behind him with a soft click. The sound of a lock engaging. Heavy footsteps as guards took up positions outside.
And Yuelai was alone.
For several heartbeats, she just stood there, swaying, staring at the closed door. Waiting for him to come back. Waiting for this to make sense.
Then her legs gave out.
She collapsed to the floor, and the sobs came—deep, wrenching sounds that seemed to tear themselves from her chest. She curled into herself, arms wrapped around her stomach, and wept for everything she'd lost.
Junwei. Her kind, gentle brother who'd left her the pendant because he wanted her to be happy on her wedding day. Who would never become the wise emperor he was meant to be.
Xiaoyu. Her loyal maid who'd worried about her being late to the coronation. Who'd served her faithfully and died for no reason except being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
All the servants, the guards, the innocent people who'd worked in her palace. People with families, with lives, with dreams. All gone. Executed for a treason they didn't commit.
And Tianyu. The boy she'd painted with. The young man she'd trusted. The fiancé she'd been learning to love. That person was either dead or had never existed at all.
The morning light grew stronger, painting golden squares across the floor. Yuelai didn't move. Couldn't move. She lay there as hours passed, as the sun climbed higher, as servants came and went with food she didn't touch.
At some point, she became aware of the pendant still around her neck. Her hand closed around it—the jade orchid, still warm from her skin. Junwei's final gift. His final words to her: *May you bloom with happiness.*
Fresh tears came, but she had no strength left to cry.
Night fell. Then dawn came again.
Yuelai existed in a haze. Sometimes she was aware of being moved, of being dressed in different clothes. Sometimes servants tried to make her eat or drink. She must have consumed something because she didn't die, though part of her wished she would.
On the second day, they brought the wedding dress.
It was beautiful—red silk embroidered with golden phoenixes and peonies, the traditional color of joy and celebration. The same dress she'd been looking forward to wearing. The same dress she'd helped select months ago.
The servants draped it across a chair, their faces carefully neutral. One of them—an older woman she didn't recognize—spoke softly: "Tomorrow morning, Princess. The ceremony will be at dawn."
Tomorrow. Her wedding to the man who'd murdered her brother. Who'd stolen the throne. Who'd blamed her for the deaths of everyone she cared about.
That night, Yuelai sat by her window and looked out at the palace grounds. Somewhere out there, the court was preparing for a wedding. Musicians rehearsing. Cooks preparing the feast. Guests arriving from across the empire.
No one knew the truth. Or if they did, no one dared speak it.
She touched the pendant one more time, closing her eyes.
*I'm sorry, Junwei. I'm so sorry.*
---
The wedding was to begin at dawn.
The guard captain knocked on the Princess's door as the first light touched the palace rooftops. "Princess Yuelai, it is time to prepare for the ceremony."
Silence.
He knocked again, louder. "Princess?"
Still nothing.
He exchanged a glance with his men. Orders were orders—the wedding would proceed whether the bride was willing or not. He tested the door. Locked from the inside, as expected.
"Break it down."
Two guards rammed their shoulders against the wood. The lock splintered. The door flew open.
The captain stepped inside, already preparing excuses for the damage. But the words died in his throat.
The chamber was empty.
The wedding dress lay draped across the chair, untouched. The breakfast tray sat cold on the table, food congealing. The bed was neatly made, as if no one had slept in it.
And the window—the window that faced the gardens three stories above the ground—stood wide open, silk curtains billowing in the morning breeze.
The guard captain rushed to look out. Nothing. No rope. No ladder. No body broken on the stones below.
Just an empty room and the sound of wind.
"Sound the alarm," he said, his voice tight. "The Princess is gone."
---
END OF CHAPTER 2