Yue Lian.
*********
By the time the summons came, I already knew what it meant.
No one used the word "summons," of course. Xiao Ran phrased it gently, as though it were an invitation to tea.
"The Master has returned from court," she said while fastening the last clasp of my outer robe.
"He wishes to see you in the main hall."
Wishes.
In this house, wishes carried the weight of commands.
I studied my reflection in the bronze mirror one last time. The girl staring back at me wore pale blue silk embroidered with faint lotus patterns.
Her hair was arranged carefully, pinned with jade ornaments that shimmered when she moved.
She looked composed.
She looked delicate.
She did not look like someone who had drowned three days ago.
"Do I seem… different?" I asked quietly.
Xiao Ran's hands paused for the smallest fraction of a second.
"You seem well, Miss," she answered, lowering her gaze. "That is all that matters."
It was not what I had asked.
We walked through the long corridor that led toward the central hall. The manor was fully awake now. Servants moved like quiet shadows along the edges of the courtyard, their steps careful, their voices subdued.
I could feel it—curiosity, fear, speculation—hanging in the air like humidity after rain.
The main hall doors were already open.
Inside, incense burned in tall bronze stands. Smoke curled upward in thin ribbons, blurring the painted beams overhead.
The floor was polished dark wood, reflecting filtered sunlight from the courtyard beyond.
And seated at the head of the room was the Prime Minister.
My father.
He looked exactly as the fragments of Yue Lian's memory described him: upright, restrained, dressed in deep indigo court robes.
His beard was neatly trimmed, his expression carved from discipline rather than warmth.
On his right sat a woman in embroidered crimson silk.
The stepmother.
She wore concern on her face like a carefully chosen accessory. Her eyes, however, were sharp and steady as a blade.
Beside her sat a younger girl in light green robes—her daughter.
My stepsister.
Her posture was flawless. Her smile was small. Too small.
I lowered myself into a formal bow.
"Father."
My voice sounded calm. I did not know where that calm came from, but I held onto it.
The Prime Minister studied me for a long moment before speaking.
"You have frightened this household."
His tone was even. Not accusing. Not relieved. Simply factual.
"I apologize," I said.
It felt strange to apologize for dying.
His gaze did not soften. "The physician confirmed your pulse had ceased. The servants prepared mourning cloth. Yet before the third hour passed, breath returned."
Silence filled the hall.
The stepmother sighed gently. "Heaven is merciful," she said. "Our Lian'er has always been blessed."
Blessed.
The word felt heavy.
My stepsister's fingers tightened around the sleeve in her lap. I saw it. Just a slight movement. Controlled.
"I am grateful to be alive," I said, choosing each word carefully.
The Prime Minister leaned back slightly. "You remember what occurred?"
There it was.
The question hidden beneath all others.
I let my gaze drop, as if recalling something painful.
"I walked to the pond," I said slowly. "The rain had made the stones slick. I slipped."
The lie came easily.
Or perhaps it was not entirely a lie. Yue Lian had walked there. That much I knew. But the fragments of memory I carried did not feel like someone who had slipped.
They felt like someone who had chosen to end it.
The stepmother clasped her hands. "It was careless to walk alone at night," she murmured. "Especially with the wedding so near. The entire capital speaks of it."
My stepsister's voice joined hers, soft and almost innocent. "Elder Sister has always been fond of solitude."
There was no accusation in her tone. No cruelty.
But there was something else.
Satisfaction? No.
Relief.
I raised my eyes and met hers directly.
She held my gaze.
For a heartbeat too long.
Then she smiled again.
Tea was poured. The sound of porcelain touching wood felt louder than it should have.
The Prime Minister spoke of court matters in general terms—flood control in the southern provinces, a dispute among border officials, preparations for the upcoming autumn rites.
He did not mention the emperor.
Not until the end.
"A message arrived from the palace this morning," he said.
The air shifted instantly.
My pulse steadied, strangely enough. I had been waiting for this.
"The wedding is not canceled."
The stepmother's fan stilled.
My stepsister's smile flickered.
"It has been postponed," he continued. "His Majesty has ordered that the auspicious date be recalculated."
His Majesty.
Emperor Zhao Yuchen.
The immortal ruler who outlived brides.
The hall felt smaller suddenly.
The Prime Minister's gaze settled on me once more. "Until the new date is chosen, you will remain within the manor. Your health must be beyond question. There will be no further… incidents."
"I understand," I replied.
And I did.
The wedding was still meant to happen.
Which meant I was still meant to become his consort.
Which meant the curse still waited.
The stepmother's voice was smooth when she spoke again. "Perhaps Lian'er should rest further. We would not want weakness to follow her into the palace."
Weakness.
I bowed my head slightly. "Thank you for your concern, Mother."
The word tasted foreign.
The meeting concluded soon after.
As I stood to leave, I felt it again—that faint prickle at the back of my neck.
Not grief.
Not affection.
But schemes.
When I stepped back into the courtyard, I finally let out the breath I had been holding.
Xiao Ran followed quietly behind me.
"You did well," she whispered once we were alone.
"Did I?" I asked.
"You did not tremble."
I almost laughed.
Inside, I was nothing but tremble.
We walked along the stone path that circled the lotus pond.
I stopped at its edge.
Sunlight shimmered on the water's surface. It looked harmless now. Gentle. Beautiful.
But I could feel something beneath it.
A memory not fully mine.
Yue Lian standing here alone.
The moon bright.
The world silent.
A decision forming in her chest.
"She did not slip," I murmured.
Xiao Ran stiffened. "Miss?"
I realized I had spoken aloud.
"I mean," I corrected softly, "I must be more careful."
But the thought lingered.
If she had chosen death, why?
Fear of the emperor?
Fear of the curse?
Or something closer?
I crouched and dipped my fingers into the
water.
Cold.
Real.
"I won't die for someone else's fate," I whispered to the ripples.
The wind shifted.
A servant hurried across the courtyard toward us and bowed deeply.
"Miss, the Second Young Lady requests your presence in the east pavilion."
My stepsister.
So soon.
"I will go," I said.
★
east pavilion***
The east pavilion overlooked a smaller garden—less grand than the central courtyard, but more secluded.
Bamboo rustled softly along the outer wall. A stone table had been set with tea.
She was already there.
Waiting..When she saw me, she rose gracefully.
"Elder Sister," she greeted with a perfect bow.
"Second Sister," I replied.
We sat across from one another.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
She poured tea with steady hands.
"I am glad you survived," she said at last.
The words were appropriate. Her eyes were not.
"Are you?" I asked gently.
She did not flinch.
"Of course. Without you, the manor would be… unsettled."
Unsettled?
Because the emperor would demand answers.
Because alliance will fail, and that Will be a dead wish.
And because a dead bride was a scandal.
"You must have been frightened," she continued. "Three hours without breath. Some would say the soul wanders far in that time."
There it was again.
The suggestion.
Changed.
I met her gaze calmly. "And yet it returned."
"Yes," she said softly. "It returned."
Silence stretched between us like a drawn bowstring.
"Be careful near the pond," she added after a moment. "The stones are treacherous after rain."
"I will remember that," I said.
Our eyes locked once more.
I did not accuse her.
She did not confess.
But something unspoken passed between us.
She had expected me gone.
And now I was not.
As I rose to leave, she spoke again.
"Elder Sister."
I paused.
"The palace is not kind," she said. "Even to the favored."
Favored?
An interesting choice of word.
I turned back slightly. "I will keep that in mind."
When I returned to my chambers, the weight of the day finally settled over me.
This was no longer a story in pages.
This was politics.
Family.
And most importantly
Survival.
And inside this manor, beneath polite smiles and careful words, something had tried to erase Yue Lian from existence.
I stood before the mirror once more.
The girl in the reflection looked steady.
Alive.
"This life," I said quietly, "belongs to me now."
Not to the drowned bride.
Not to the cautious daughter.
Not to the obedient pawn.
To me....