The door slammed shut and I missed, falling back into bed. I tossed around for a while, trying to fall asleep, but I couldn't. My eyes stayed propped open at the soft sound coming from the other side of the door.
"Young Miss, did you forget about the tradition today?" came a sleek, meek voice from outside. I closed my eyes, heat crawling up my face in rage. If what that lousy mouth called a "tradition," then everyone in this house was sick in the head.
Locks clicked and unlatched. She pushed the door open and stepped in, waving in a line of servants who began laying garments—one after the other—onto the table with delicate precision. "Master Shen requested that you look beautiful after six months of quarantine. He hopes you've recovered. His Lord Divine Healer will be visiting today. Do meet with him to check your spirit level."
I blinked twice and dragged myself out of bed when it became clear she had no plans to leave. "Your name?"
"An You. Do you not remember me?"
"I've been rotting in the woods for six months, cut off from everything and everyone, and you expect me to recall your name?"
That shut her up. She dropped to her knees with a pitiful pout, head lowered.
"If I've offended Miss Shen Mi in any way, I beg your pardon."
I sighed sharply, pressing a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of my nose. "Don't kneel. Just—stand. I'm not in the mood."
She scrambled upright so fast she nearly stumbled, her head bowed low like she might vanish into the floor. "Yes, Young Miss."
I turned to the table where she'd laid out layer upon layer of rich brocades in pale green and crimson. Phoenixes and peonies shimmered under the lantern light. It was a far cry from the coarse, dull fabric I'd grown used to while surviving in the woods.
"Why now?" I asked, not bothering to mask my irritation. "Is this for the so-called royal parade through the villages?"
An You flinched, clearly unsure how to answer.
"Never mind," I muttered, brushing past her to the basin on the ground. I splashed cold water on my face, hoping to douse the burning in my chest. It didn't help. The little girl's death still clung to me like blood I couldn't wash off.
When I looked into the mirror, I barely recognized the girl staring back. Gaunt cheeks. Shadowed eyes. Bones jutting out from beneath skin that had lost its softness.
An You hovered behind me in the reflection, silent.
"I know what today is," I said quietly, not meeting her eyes. "I might've been locked up for impurity, but don't pretend this is a celebration. Don't act like I don't know what it really is."
She said nothing, but I saw the way her jaw twitched. She was nervous—because I was right.
"It's not a festival. It's a harvest," I went on. "A selection. A parade of royalty picking from the poor, offering sacks of grain in exchange for sons and daughters they'll forget the next day."
She lowered her gaze, her hands twisting together in front of her.
"It's not for me to question—" she started.
"But you know," I snapped. "You all know."
She didn't deny it.
I turned to face her fully. "So what do they want with me? I've been hidden in the woods, out of sight, out of mind. Why parade me now, dressed like a sacrificial flower?"
An You swallowed. "Master Shen believes… your appearance, your recovery, will restore favor. If the royals see that the plague hasn't damaged your mind, it will reflect well on the Shen name."
Of course. Shen Mi, the weakling daughter with the blemished skin. According to ancestral tradition, royals with "impure" marks were stripped of their titles or banished into the wild to "cleanse the impurity" and "restore divine favor."
But the spots were never the disease.
The disease was their judgment.
"Tell me," I asked, stepping forward, lifting my chin. "Do I look pure enough now? Or do you think they'll still smell the rot under all this silk?"
An You stiffened. "You… you've changed, Young Miss."
"Yes," I said coldly. "Death does that. Six months of watching it, breathing it, wondering when it would find you—it leaves a mark."
The door creaked again. Another servant peeked in. "Young Miss Shen, the procession flag has been raised at the foot of the southern hills. The Emperor's convoy is approaching. They'll pass through the lower villages, then circle through the Spring Garden before returning to the Pavilion."
An You nodded and turned to me. "We must hurry. Master Shen insists you be seen when the royals pass. The villagers will be gathered. There will be… eyes."
"Fine," I said, stepping toward the robe. "Let's not keep the vultures waiting."
She helped me dress in silence. The silk clung too tightly to my body, my bones like thorns beneath a blooming flower. But I stood tall.
If it was purity they wanted, I'd lend them a piece of it.
Dressed in deep obsidian-black, reinforced subtly with hidden armor and lined with silver embroidery along the cuffs and collar—he looked every inch one of Shen Fuchen's elite.
Lang Rui dropped to one knee, fist to chest. "Your Excellency, Shen Mi's convoy has arrived at the South Pavilion gates. They are being checked for entry."
Shen Fuchen didn't turn from the balcony overlooking the Pavilion of Celestial Harmony. His hands were clasped behind his back, jade ring catching the light. "And you've confirmed no traces of the plague?"
"Yes, Lord. The healer will make the final assessment after presentation. Shall I instruct the guards to open the gates?"
"Do it, Lang Rui."
Lang Rui bowed and disappeared into the corridor. He raised two fingers. The gates creaked open.
The courtyard filled with hushed silence as we entered. Servants, advisors, and guards all watched with rigid posture, eyes on the decorated palanquin.
I stepped down slowly.
The pale green silk shimmered with every movement. My face remained unreadable, but my heart was a storm beating against its cage. I remembered every line An You had drilled into me during the ride through the valleys.
I crossed the white-stoned courtyard. Each step echoed in the silence. At the base of the grand stairs where Shen Fuchen sat atop the dais, I stopped.
And I knelt.
The silk pooled around me like petals, and I lowered myself until my forehead touched the cold stone ground.
"Father," I said, voice clear and even, "I was gone for six months because I was impure. Now I have returned with purity. Seek my face… as your daughter, Shen Mi."
The world held its breath.
Even the wind stopped moving.
I didn't lift my head.
I waited—for judgment.
For redemption.
Or rejection.