The order came just before sunset.
"Princess Lian Zhi," the maid said, eyes lowered and hands folded tightly in front of her, "Prince Kabil commands your presence at the feast tonight."
Xiao Zhi paused, her fingers tightening slightly where they rested against her sleeve.
"Commands?" she repeated.
The maid hesitated, then gave a small nod. "You are to serve wine."
Serve.
Not attend. Not sit beside him. Not be acknowledged as his wife in any way that carried dignity.
Xiao Zhi inclined her head once. "I understand."
When she entered the banquet hall, conversation paused for a brief moment, as if her presence had disrupted the flow of the room, before resuming louder than before. Laughter followed, cups clinked against each other, and somewhere among the guests, a man whistled openly.
Kabil sat at the head of the hall, completely at ease, one arm resting along the back of his seat. When he noticed her, his lips curved into a smile she had already learned to recognize.
The one that meant trouble.
"Ah," he said, raising his cup. "My wife has arrived."
A ripple of laughter followed. Xiao Zhi lowered her head and stepped forward. A servant placed a wine jug into her hands.
"Pour," Kabil said casually, as if he were asking for something trivial.
She moved as instructed, stopping before each guest, keeping her gaze down
"Careful," one nobleman remarked, his eyes lingering far too long as she approached. "That jug looks heavy."
"I can manage," she replied quietly, forcing steadiness into her voice.
She poured, bowed, and moved on, repeating the same motions until her shoulders ached and her fingers burned from gripping the jug. Behind her, the whispers never quite stopped.
"So that's her?"
"She doesn't look very strong."
"Prince Kabil married this?"
Xiao Zhi focused on the floor beneath her feet, telling herself not to react, not to listen, not to give them the satisfaction of seeing her falter.
Then someone shifted their foot.
She felt it too late.
Her heel caught, her balance tilted, and the jug tipped just enough for red wine to spill down her sleeve
The hall burst into laughter.
"Oh no," someone said, amused. "Looks like the Hua bride is very fragile."
"I'm sorry," Xiao Zhi said quickly, bowing. "Please forgive my clumsiness."
Kabil stood, and the laughter stopped abruptly. He walked toward her slowly, inspecting the stained sleeve.
"You embarrassed me," he said lightly, but a hint of anger flickered in his eyes.
"I'll change immediately," she said.
"Sit."
She froze.
"Sit!" he repeated. Voice thundering, causing the rest of the feast to tremble with her.
The musicians fell silent. Every gaze turned toward her.
Not wanting to provoke him further, Xiao Zhi lowered herself onto the cushion he indicated.
For a brief, foolish moment, she thought he was ending it there.
Then Kabil picked up the wine jug.
He filled a cup and set it down in front of her with a dull thud.
"Drink."
It wasn't an offer. It was a command.
Xiao Zhi closed her eyes for a single heartbeat before lifting the cup to her lips. She drank, forcing herself not to hesitate, because she did not want to learn what would happen if she did.
Kabil's lips curved in satisfaction. He turned back to the guests and raised his voice.
"Everyone," he said, spreading his arms, "isn't my wife lovely?"
Laughter and cheers erupted.
"Truly," one of his aides added, stepping closer, his gaze unapologetic. "As beautiful as a flower from Hua."
Kabil smiled, his fingers brushing against her cheek in a touch that was deliberate and cold.
"Really?" a voice said from the crowd.
A nobleman rose from his seat and walked toward her, his steps unsteady with drink. He stopped in front of her and poured wine into a cup.
"Then let me see for myself."
He linked his arm through hers, pulling her closer before she could react.
"Come," he said. "A shared drink."
Xiao Zhi froze, her eyes flying instinctively to Kabil.
He only smiled back at her.
"Do as you're told," he said softly. There was a warning in his gaze.
Her hand trembled as she raised the cup. The man drank first, laughing loudly, wine spilling down his chin. Then his hand slid up, fingers grazing her face.
Something inside her snapped.
Xiao Zhi shoved him away and slapped him.
The sound echoed through the hall.
For a split second, there was stunned silence.
Then Kabil moved.
His palm struck her face, hard enough to send her reeling.
"How dare you disrespect my guest?" he roared.
No one intervened. No one spoke.
And in that moment, Xiao Zhi understood.
This was not a mistake.
It was deliberate.
"Do it again," Kabil hissed, leaning close, "and you'll regret it."
She nodded quickly, her voice barely audible. "I won't."
He shoved her away and turned his back as though she were no longer worth acknowledging.
That night should have ended there.
It did not.
"You think you're above this?" he snapped. "Standing there like you're judging everyone."
"I wasn't—"
"Liar." He laughed, the sound rough and ugly. "You Hua women love pretending you're pure."
Her heart pounded violently in her chest.
"Kabil," she said, forcing calm into her voice. "Please."
Voices murmured nearby, laughter drifting too close, footsteps approaching.
This isn't right.
This isn't—
The doors slammed open.
Silence crashed through the room.
Everyone turned.
The Khan stood in the doorway.
No one spoke.
Kabil barely had time to speak before the Khan moved.
One punch.
Kabil hit the floor.
"Leave," the Khan said, his voice flat and final.
No one waited for a second command.
Arkan was already beside Xiao Zhi, draping a cloak over her shoulders with steady hands. "Come," he said quietly.
She did not remember walking, only that the noise faded behind her and the air felt easier to breathe.
When the door to her chamber finally closed, Xiao Zhi sank onto the bed, her body trembling uncontrollably.
She was wrong.
She had thought Kabil was the villain she understood, the cruelty she could predict.
But the Khan, the man she feared most, had been the one who stopped it.
"I thought you were the monster," she whispered, clutching the fabric beneath her fingers.
"But you weren't."
Or perhaps the story had never been what she thought it was.
Not even close.