The late summer heat clung to the city of Lianzhou like a second skin. The canals shimmered under the afternoon sun, their surfaces disturbed only by the slow drift of lotus petals and the occasional splash of a fisherman's oar. The scent of osmanthus and steamed rice wafted through the narrow stone streets. But for Li Meiyun, the healer's daughter, the world had narrowed to a single breathless focus: Don't let him die.
The man on the ground was bleeding fast, crimson soaking through the embroidered silk of his robes—robes far too fine for a commoner. Meiyun pressed her palm to his chest, fingers trembling, her pulse racing as she reached for her satchel. She'd found him crumpled near the riverbank, unconscious, cloaked and masked. No name. No answers. Only blood—and the unmistakable chill of poison winding through his veins.
"I told myself I'd stay out of palace business," she muttered under her breath, pulling a slender vial from her pouch. "But clearly, the palace doesn't plan to stay out of mine."
With deft fingers, she uncorked the bottle and poured a few drops onto the edge of her blade. She needed to draw the poison to the surface before it reached his heart. One wrong cut, and he'd be dead. One wrong choice, and she would be. Harboring a noble—possibly even a prince? That was treason.
But the man beneath her groaned, and his hand—gloved in dark leather—twitched toward hers.
"Don't speak," she said, slicing his sleeve open. "Don't move. Just trust me."
He didn't respond, but his breath steadied, as though he could feel the certainty in her voice. His pulse fluttered beneath her touch—weak, but alive. She pressed the blade gently to his skin, drawing a thin line. Blackish fluid oozed out, the poison rising in slow, painful streams. Meiyun wiped it clean with a cloth, repeating the motion, her face glistening with sweat.
As she worked, Meiyun became aware of more than just the wound. There was something... familiar about him. The angle of his jaw, the bearing even in unconsciousness. She had seen this kind of stillness before—in statues, in murals, in stories whispered through the city streets. Nobility didn't bleed like this. Nobility didn't stumble through alleyways alone.
The air thickened as minutes passed. Meiyun poured cool water into a bowl from her pouch and mixed it with crushed herbs—honeysuckle for fever, ground pearl for vitality, and the rare white root her mother had forbidden her from using. Desperate times.
She gently tilted the man's head and coaxed a few drops past his lips. "You're lucky I found you," she said softly. "Though I suspect I won't be feeling lucky after this."
Behind her, the rustle of leaves.
Meiyun froze. Her hand slid to the small dagger hidden in her sash.
Footsteps.
Two palace guards emerged from the trees, their armor glinting, weapons drawn. Their gazes fell on the man at her feet, and one of them let out a sharp breath.
"Step away from His Highness," the taller one barked, sword lowering toward her.
His Highness.
The world tilted. Her heart thundered.
She had just performed an unlicensed, high-level medical procedure on the Crown Prince of the Ming Court.
Meiyun stood slowly, arms raised to show she held no weapon. "He would've died if I hadn't intervened."
"You think that will matter if he doesn't wake?" the second guard sneered. "You've tampered with royal blood. That alone warrants execution."
The prince stirred again, a faint groan escaping his lips. Meiyun glanced down, hope flickering. He was alive. Breathing.
"Then he'll tell you himself," she snapped. "I saved his life."
The guards exchanged a look. The taller one lowered his blade slightly, though suspicion remained etched into every line of his face. "You'll come with us. The imperial court will decide your fate."
Meiyun swallowed hard. Her mother would be frantic. She had never even stepped past the outer walls of the city, let alone the inner sanctums of the court.
Still, she bent and gathered her supplies, movements deliberate. "Then let me pack my herbs. If you want him to keep breathing, I'll need to finish the treatment."
They didn't stop her. One even stepped forward to check the prince's vitals but paused, clearly unsure what to do. They weren't trained healers. They only saw blood and panic.
As Meiyun secured the prince's arm with a medicinal wrap, her fingers grazed a seal tucked within his robe—a carved jade pendant bearing the imperial crest. The symbol felt heavy in her palm, like fate itself.
She looked once more at the man she had saved. Unconscious, powerful, and dangerous.
"Who are you really?" she whispered, slipping the pendant back into his robe. "And what storm have you brought into my life?"
The guards motioned for her to rise. One took the prince gently by the shoulders. Meiyun stood tall, forcing her heartbeat into stillness.
As they made their way toward the waiting carriage hidden behind the trees, Meiyun did not look back at the river. The current had shifted, and so had her path.
And deep within the walls of the Ming Court, something ancient had stirred.