Chapter 3
The palace bell tolled five times—low and somber—as dawn melted into the cold arms of morning. Snow had stopped falling, leaving behind a thin, glittering veil across the palace roofs. From above, Longwu Palace looked peaceful, almost divine.
But Princess Lian Hua knew better.
Peace here was a mask. And she had come to learn what it hid beneath its porcelain smile.
Today was the Ceremony of Unity, where she would present herself at the ancestral altar to show reverence to the imperial bloodline. It was symbolic—a gesture of submission to the throne. A reminder that she now belonged to the Dragon Court, not the ashes of her fallen kingdom.
She stood before her mirror in ceremonial robes of crimson and gold, the color of royalty. Her long black hair had been braided with tiny jade rings, and her forehead bore the delicate red seal of hua dian—a symbol of grace, but also silence.
As her maid adjusted her waistband, Xiao Zhen whispered, "Your Highness, do not kneel for too long at the altar. The stone is colder than the snow."
Lian Hua smiled faintly. "If I can kneel for my kingdom, I can kneel for a ghost."
The Hall of Ancestral Jade loomed like a stone dragon, its roof curled into spirals, its eaves hung with ancient charms. Fire torches lined the entrance, casting flickering shadows along the marble floor.
Inside, the Emperor sat veiled behind golden silk curtains. His breath was weak, but his presence—still sacred.
Lian Hua stepped forward and bowed three times before the jade tablet bearing the names of emperors past.
Behind her, Crown Prince Long Jie stood stoically, while Prince Long Rui leaned lazily against a column, yawning.
When the priest called for her to kneel, she did so with dignity, even though the stone beneath her knees bit through the thin cloth of her robes. Her hands remained steady.
But something stirred in the air. A sudden hush. A shift.
Then—
Ssshhk.
The candle beside her flickered violently.
A dagger, small and curved, landed inches from her face, embedding itself in the marble floor.
Gasps rang out.
Guards surged forward, weapons drawn.
Long Jie was at her side in seconds, sword unsheathed. "Protect the Princess!"
Long Rui, strangely calm, bent down to inspect the blade. His brow furrowed.
"This isn't a palace weapon," he said darkly. "Someone smuggled it in."
The Emperor's voice, frail but firm, rang out from behind the curtain. "No bloodshed in the Jade Hall! Take her to safety."
Two guards escorted Lian Hua out, but her heart beat like war drums. Someone had just tried to kill her—at the ancestral altar.
And that meant only one thing.
The message was deliberate.
Back in her chambers, Xiao Zhen wrung her hands. "Your Highness! You could have died!"
Lian Hua removed her ceremonial robe slowly, her face unreadable. "But I didn't."
She picked up the fallen hairpin from the floor—a phoenix carved in redwood. Its tail had splintered in the fall. It was her mother's.
Xiao Zhen paused. "Do you think… it was someone from Hua who resents your alliance?"
"No," Lian Hua said coldly. "It came from here. From this court. And I intend to find out who."
That evening, a scroll was delivered to her chambers.
It was unsigned but carried a familiar scent—bamboo ink and sandalwood. A scent she remembered from the courtyard where he always played his flute.
The message was brief:
"Meet me by the Moon Bridge at midnight. Come alone. – R."
She arrived in silence, wrapped in a plain cloak. Snow crunched softly under her slippers as she crossed the Moon Bridge—an arch of white stone curving over the koi pond.
There he was.
Prince Long Rui, dressed in black, leaning against the bridge's railing, flute in hand.
He didn't look up right away. Instead, he played a single, haunting note. It danced through the night like a ghost, then vanished.
"You came," he said finally.
Lian Hua stood still. "Was this a trap?"
"If it were, you'd already be dead."
Charming, she thought bitterly.
He tucked the flute into his sash. "That blade… it was meant to scare you, not kill. A warning."
"From who?"
He shrugged. "The palace has more snakes than scholars. But I have a guess."
She waited.
He leaned closer. "There are nobles who think this marriage weakens the empire. They'd rather see you buried than betrothed."
Lian Hua's voice was steady. "And what do you think, Your Highness?"
His eyes met hers. "I think you're more dangerous than any dagger."
Silence settled between them, heavy and almost intimate.
Then he added, "I also think my brother is falling for you."
Her breath caught. She hadn't expected him to be so blunt.
"I see the way he looks at you. Like a man looking at the only fire in a snowstorm."
"And you?" she asked softly. "How do you look at me?"
His smirk returned, but this time it was softer.
"Like a man who already knows fire burns."
As she walked back to her chambers that night, her mind whirled.
Two princes.
One throne.
One heart, already caught in a net of duty, danger, and desire.
She didn't know what tomorrow would bring.
But tonight, she knew one thing:
The game had begun.
And so had her war.