Shanghai's skyline glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Zhang Tower's penthouse office. Forty-eight stories above the bustling port city, Zhang Xiao stood with his back to the view, his attention entirely focused on the man standing before him.
Li Mo, his secretary of three years, maintained a perfectly straight posture despite the oppressive silence that filled the room. At twenty-six, Li Mo had learned that working for Zhang Xiao required two things: absolute competence, and the ability to read his moods without being told.
"The Shen family entourage departed from the Shanghai region two hours ago," Li Mo reported, his voice steady and calm. "They're traveling by military convoy, using three armored vehicles and two support trucks. Miss Shen is with the main group."
Zhang Xiao's dark eyes narrowed slightly. "Military vehicles?"
"Yes, sir. Her father, Shen Zhiyuan, arranged for military transport for the family's relocation to the capital. It's standard procedure for officials of his rank being reassigned to Beijing."
A small smile touched Zhang Xiao's lips—rare, but dangerous. "The capital…"
He turned toward the window, gazing out at the city he controlled. Shanghai was his domain, his empire built from nothing through ruthless determination and the knowledge of a lifetime lived before this one. But Beijing… Beijing was where the real power resided. The imperial court, the puppet emperor, the ambitious princes and their warring maternal families—it was a nest of vipers waiting to be crushed.
But more than that, Beijing was where she was going.
"It's time," Zhang Xiao said softly. "I've delayed long enough. The elders in the capital have become… complacent. They forget who truly leads this family."
Li Mo remained silent, waiting.
"Prepare the jet," Zhang Xiao commanded. "We leave for Beijing in one hour. While I'm there, I'll remind our elders exactly why they should fear me. It's past time to clean house."
"Understood, sir. I'll make the arrangements immediately." Li Mo turned to leave, then paused. "There is one other matter, sir. According to our surveillance, Miss Shen is experiencing motion sickness from the journey."
Zhang Xiao's head snapped toward him, his expression sharpening. "Motion sickness?"
"Yes, sir. She's been traveling for several hours now, and our observers note she appears unwell. Pale, nauseous. The military vehicles, while secure, are not designed for passenger comfort."
Something dark flashed in Zhang Xiao's eyes—a mix of fury and helpless worry that made Li Mo's blood run cold.
"She's suffering," Zhang Xiao said, his voice low and dangerous. "And I'm here, doing nothing."
His fingers clenched at his sides, and for a moment, the Shanghai office faded. He was back in the throne room, the scent of blood thick in the air, her hand growing cold in his. Live for me, she'd whispered with her last breath. And he had failed her. He'd avenged her, built an empire in her name, ruled for decades with their son by his side—but he had never truly saved her.
This time would be different.
"The convoy is being escorted by Madam Liu," Li Mo added quickly, hoping to diffuse his boss's rising temper. "She's accompanying Miss Shen and attending to her needs. Our reports indicate she's providing care."
Zhang Xiao's jaw tightened, but some of the lethal edge left his expression. Madam Liu—a skilled bodyguard and caretaker, recommended by a trusted contact within his organization. She was competent, loyal, and discreet. Exactly what his beloved needed.
"See that the jet is prepared with everything she might need," Zhang Xiao said, his voice regaining its customary control. "And have the engineering team look into the suspension systems of our vehicles. If my princess is sensitive to motion, then our cars will be redesigned to accommodate her. I want the smoothest ride possible. Understood?"
"Yes, sir. I'll speak with the engineering department immediately."
"Good. We leave in one hour."
Li Mo bowed slightly and retreated from the office. As the heavy doors clicked shut behind him, he allowed himself a silent exhale. Every time he reported on Miss Shen, he felt like he was walking a razor's edge—one wrong word, one missed detail, and Zhang Xiao's legendary temper would explode. But today, at least, he'd survived.
Outside the office, Li Mo pulled out his phone and began making calls. The jet needed to be fueled and flight plans filed. The engineering team needed to be contacted about the vehicle modifications. And most importantly, he needed to ensure their arrival in Beijing was timed perfectly.
Zhang Xiao was going to the capital, and when a man like that decided to clean house, no one would be spared.
---
The afternoon sun beat down on the highway stretching north from Shanghai, the asphalt shimmering with heat. The Shen family military convoy moved at a steady pace, three armored Humvees forming a protective cluster around the central transport vehicle.
Inside the lead Humvee, Shen Qing lay curled on the padded bench seat, her face pale and her eyes squeezed shut. The vehicle's suspension, designed for military durability rather than passenger comfort, jolted with every bump in the road. Each movement sent waves of nausea rolling through her stomach.
"Mistress, you're so pale," Xiao Lan murmured, pressing a cool cloth to Shen Qing's forehead. The eighteen-year-old maid's brow was furrowed with worry. "Should I stop the vehicle? Maybe you need some fresh air."
"Don't…" Shen Qing managed, her voice weak. "Just… let me rest."
"It's so strange," Xiao Lan continued, her voice filled with genuine confusion as she adjusted the cloth. "You're so good at riding horses, and you love extreme sports—bungee jumping, parachuting, rock climbing. You never get sick from any of that. But put you in a car, and you're miserable. It doesn't make sense."
Shen Qing was too nauseous to formulate a proper response. She just pressed her face into the cushion and wished the world would stop spinning.
A sharp tug on her ear made her gasp.
Xiao Lan yelped in surprise. "Mama Liu! What was that for?"
Madam Liu, seated across from them in the Humvee's spacious interior, released Xiao Lan's ear with a satisfied nod. "If you have energy to chatter about your mistress's peculiarities, then you have energy to focus on taking proper care of her. Keep the cloth cool. Monitor her breathing. And stop making conversation unless she asks for it."
Xiao Lan rubbed her sore ear but nodded meekly. "Yes, Mama Liu."
Madam Liu reached into her pocket and withdrew a small, wrapped candy. "Here, Miss. Suck on this slowly. It's ginger and mint—it will help settle your stomach."
Shen Qing took the candy with trembling fingers, unwrapping it with difficulty. Xiao LAN reached over to help, placing it in her mistress's mouth.
The cool, minty sweetness spread across her tongue, and almost immediately, the nausea began to recede. Shen Qing let out a slow breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly.
"Thank you, Mama Liu," she whispered.
"It's no trouble, Miss. Rest now."
Shen Qing closed her eyes, the candy's soothing effect taking the edge off her misery. But her mind kept returning to Xiao Lan's observation, and it bothered her. She was a doctor—a skilled one, trained by the eccentric but brilliant Dr. Feng Yulan. She understood human physiology, the vestibular system, the causes of motion sickness. And yet here she was, defeated by a simple car ride while she could bungee jump from a bridge without blinking.
"It's unscientific," she murmured, her eyes still closed. "There's no physiological reason I should be able to handle extreme acceleration and free-fall but get sick from gentle swaying. It doesn't make sense."
Xiao LAN leaned forward, her eyes bright with hope. "Mistress, you're so talented—couldn't you make a medicine to reduce motion sickness? Something herbal, maybe? If anyone could do it, you could."
Shen Qing cracked one eye open to look at her maid. "Xiao Lan, if I could make such a medicine, don't you think I would have already taken it? Do you think I enjoy suffering like this?"
Xiao Lan had the grace to look abashed. "I… I suppose not, Mistress. I just thought…"
"Your mistress needs rest, not conversation," Madam Liu interjected, her tone firm but not unkind. "Both of you, be quiet. Miss Shen, sleep. We have several hours yet before we reach Beijing."
Shen Qing didn't argue. She closed her eyes again, and within minutes, the gentle hum of the vehicle and the rhythmic motion lulled her into a light, restless sleep.
---
Three hours later, a gentle shake woke her.
"Miss, wake up." Madam Liu's voice was soft but insistent. "We're approaching Beijing."
Shen Qing blinked her eyes open, disoriented for a moment. The nausea had faded to a dull manageable ache, and she pushed herself up slowly, stretching her stiff limbs. "How much longer?"
"Another hour, perhaps less." Madam Liu nodded toward the window. "Look. You can see the outer wall now."
Shen Qing turned her gaze to the window, squinting against the afternoon sunlight. At first, she saw only open countryside, but then—there it was.
Beijing's outer wall rose from the horizon like a mountain range of stone and brick, stretching endlessly in both directions. Even from this distance, it was breathtakingly massive, a testament to the imperial capital's ancient power and enduring strength. The wall was weathered but intact, its watchtowers standing sentinel along its length.
"The wall has stood for over a thousand years," Madam Liu said quietly. "It has seen emperors rise and fall, dynasties born and die. And now, you will pass through its gates."
Shen Qing pressed her hand against the window, feeling a strange mixture of excitement and apprehension. She had never been to the capital before. Everything she knew of Beijing came from books and stories—the imperial court, the powerful families, the endless political maneuvering. And now she would be part of it, however small her role might be.
"The road is much smoother now," Xiao LAN observed, looking out the opposite window. "The highway approaching the capital is well-maintained."
Indeed, the bumps and jolts that had plagued their journey had faded. The military convoy now glided along a pristine highway, the ride smooth and steady. Shen Qing felt her stomach settle further, and for the first time in hours, she could truly appreciate the passing scenery.
As they drew closer to the wall, the traffic around them increased. More vehicles joined the highway—merchant caravans, official carriages, other military convoys. The air grew busier, and Shen Qing noticed something else that made her lean closer to the window.
"Look at the sky," she said.
Xiao Lan and Madam Liu followed her gaze.
The airspace above Beijing was a hive of activity. Aircraft of all sorts crisscrossed the sky—small private planes, larger transport vessels, and in the distance, the distinctive shapes of imperial aircraft with their golden insignia. They ascended and descended in a constant stream, like bees around a hive.
"The capital has the busiest airspace in the empire," Madam Liu explained. "Officials, merchants, diplomats—they all come and go through Beijing. The emperor may be a puppet, but the capital remains the heart of the realm."
Shen Qing watched a particularly large aircraft bank gracefully as it began its descent, its golden hull gleaming in the sunlight. "It's beautiful," she murmured.
"It is," Madam Liu agreed. "But remember, Miss—beauty often hides danger. The capital is a place of opportunity, but also of treachery. Not everyone who smiles means you well."
Shen Qing nodded slowly. "I understand."
Ahead, the massive gates of the outer wall loomed larger, their archways tall enough to admit the largest vehicles. Armed guards in imperial livery stood at attention, and as the Shen family convoy approached, the gates began to swing open.
They were entering Beijing.
And thousands of meters above, in a private jet cutting through the clouds, a man with dark eyes and memories of another lifetime watched the same gates from above. His heart beat faster with every passing moment, anticipation and old grief warring in his chest.
This time, he would not fail her.