Chapter 2
The next morning, the palace woke early with the sound of drums echoing through the vast Crimson Courtyard. Servants in pale lavender robes bustled about, and eunuchs carried scrolls of decree between halls like bees in spring.
Princess Lian Hua sat quietly as her maid, Xiao Zhen, adjusted her hairpins—delicate golden phoenixes that shimmered with jade beads.
"Your Highness, you must be careful today," Xiao Zhen whispered, eyes flicking to the silk-screen doors. "The empress dowager has summoned you to morning tea."
Lian Hua lifted a brow. "So soon? I haven't even unpacked my soul."
Xiao Zhen swallowed. "Her Grace doesn't wait. She tests. Especially brides brought from fallen kingdoms."
Lian Hua rose to her feet, smoothing her robes. "Then let her test. I am not the same girl who fled her kingdom barefoot."
The Lotus Pavilion was filled with the scent of sandalwood and aged tea leaves. The Empress Dowager, draped in imperial red and crowned with dragon-shaped hairpins, sat atop a golden dais, surrounded by concubines and noble ladies who watched Lian Hua with concealed smirks.
Lian Hua bowed deeply. "This humble daughter of Hua greets Your Grace."
The Empress Dowager eyed her slowly, lips pursed. "You may rise. Come closer. Let me see if the stories were true."
Lian Hua stepped forward, her spine straight, her face unreadable.
"A delicate flower," one lady murmured.
"Or a thorn in disguise," whispered another.
The Empress Dowager chuckled dryly. "Tell me, Princess, what does one who's tasted defeat think of victory?"
Lian Hua didn't flinch. "Defeat teaches hunger. Hunger feeds discipline. And discipline breeds victory."
A quiet hush fell. Even the concubines paused their fans.
The Empress Dowager's eyes narrowed—then softened. "Sharp-tongued. Just like your mother."
The tension cracked like ice.
"Let us hope you are not like her in other ways," the Empress added coolly. **"She was clever—but reckless. That is why Hua fell."
"That is why I remain," Lian Hua answered without bowing her head.
There it was again—that fire.
The Empress Dowager studied her for a moment longer, then sipped her tea.
"Go. We will speak again soon. Perhaps next time, as a daughter of this house."
Lian Hua bowed once more. As she turned to leave, she caught the faintest nod of approval.
Later, as she wandered through the Southern Courtyard, a voice stopped her.
"You stood your ground with the old viper. Impressive."
She turned to see Prince Long Rui perched atop a stone lantern, one leg dangling, the other folded.
"Were you spying?"
"I prefer 'observing.'" He grinned. "The palace is full of masks, Princess. I like watching people forget they're wearing them."
Lian Hua crossed her arms. "And what mask do you wear, Second Prince?"
He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "The one that keeps me alive."
She walked past him, but he jumped down and followed, walking in step beside her.
"Tell me something," he said. "Why did you agree to come here? Why not escape, vanish into the western mountains like the other exiles?"
Lian Hua didn't answer at first. Then she said quietly, "Because my people still suffer. And I will not run while they kneel."
Rui's smile faded. For once, he looked serious.
"You're brave. Or stupid."
"Sometimes they're the same thing."
They reached a koi pond where blossoms floated lazily. Long Rui bent to pluck a fallen petal.
"You know the Emperor is ill," he said softly. "And when he dies, this court will split like rotten wood. My brother wants peace. Others want war. And someone in this palace…"—his voice dropped—"wants you dead."
Lian Hua looked at him sharply. "Do you speak in riddles or truths, Prince?"
He met her gaze. "Both. Just be careful who pours your tea."
That night, back in her chambers, Lian Hua stood at her window, watching snowflakes dance over the rooftops.
A knock came at the door—louder this time.
Crown Prince Long Jie entered, his robes plain but perfectly pressed. He bowed slightly.
"Forgive my intrusion. I wanted to speak in private."
She nodded. "What brings the Crown Prince to my quiet corner of the palace?"
He walked slowly, pausing at the edge of her sitting table. "A decision must be made. Between me and my brother."
Her heartbeat quickened. So it was true—they had not yet chosen who would marry her.
"And who decides?"
"The Emperor will name it before the next full moon," he said. "But I must ask you—if given the choice, whom would you accept?"
She looked at him—his noble bearing, his calm voice, the storm hidden behind his eyes.
"Would my answer change fate?"
Long Jie held her gaze. "Perhaps. Or perhaps fate changes us, based on the choices we dare to make."
Lian Hua stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I do not seek a crown. Only a purpose."
Long Jie nodded once. "Then we may yet find both."
He left as silently as he came.
Outside, the snow fell deeper.
Inside, the fire burned brighter.
And in the shadows of the Hall of Ancestral Jade, a hooded figure bowed before an altar, whispering in the old tongue.
"The phoenix has returned. Begin the game."