Chapter 1 – The Laughing Fool
The morning sun spilled through the crimson silk curtains of the palace, casting long shadows across the marble floors of the Crimson Dragon Palace. Servants hurried about, their movements silent, careful, almost fearful of being seen by the young prince whose presence brought both amusement and frustration to the court.
Xiao Zhenyu laughed—a careless, loud laugh that echoed across the courtyard, bouncing off stone walls and polished jade pillars. It was a sound designed to irritate, to confuse, to disarm. He tripped over his own flowing robes, sending a porcelain tea cup crashing to the ground. The cup shattered into hundreds of pieces, but Xiao Zhenyu only chuckled more, sprawling theatrically on the ground, his messy black hair falling over his face.
"Your Highness, must you always…" one of the courtiers began, but trailed off, unsure whether to scold or laugh.
"Yes!" Xiao Zhenyu shouted, springing to his feet with exaggerated clumsiness. "Life is far too dull if one cannot stumble gracefully through it!" He flung his arms wide, nearly toppling over again, and laughed as the courtiers exchanged exasperated glances.
To them, he was a fool. A prince whose only skill seemed to be mockery and theatrics. Yet hidden behind that foolish smile was a mind that observed everything, remembered everything, calculated everything. Every sneer from his brothers, every whispered insult from ministers, every suspicious glance from his mother—the Empress—was stored, measured, and filed in a vault of patience and cunning.
"Let them mock," he murmured quietly, his voice dropping beneath the laughter. "One day, they will regret thinking me weak."
From the shadows of the palace steps, his loyal servants watched silently. Qin Mo, tall and silent, the kind of man whose presence alone demanded obedience, gave a barely perceptible nod. He knew the prince's act of foolishness was a mask—a cloak under which the Veiled Dragon moved. Feng Yan, another loyal retainer, sharpened a blade in the corner, eyes narrowing. There were whispers of threats tonight; assassins, perhaps, drawn by the rumor of weakness.
Xiao Zhenyu, the laughing fool, would face them. And when he did, no one would recognize him—not until it was too late.