The palace woke before the sun.
Mist curled above the jade steps, and banners hung heavy with dew.
From every corner came the slow heartbeat of drums announcing the dawn court.
Li Cheng Cheng walked behind the Crown Prince. Her veil hid her expression, but her mind whirred like the gears of the system within her.
> (System 003: Emotional index stable. Probability of confrontation = 92 %.)
So it begins, she thought.
Inside the Hall of Radiant Virtue, ministers knelt in rows, their robes spreading like dark waves across polished stone.
Incense rose in threads that twisted toward the ceiling's painted dragons.
At the head, the Emperor sat, a pale figure lost in age and silence. His eyes were cloudy, his hand trembling against the armrest.
So today, it was Li Yun—Crown Prince, heir of the realm—who bore the weight of rule.
To his right stood Prime Minister Zhao Rong: smooth-faced, bow-backed, the serpent disguised as a saint.
His voice, when he greeted the court, was honey-soft.
"Your Majesty, Your Highness, the southern treasury reports are in order. The delay was due to flooding, nothing more."
Li Yun's gaze flickered to Cheng Cheng. She inclined her head slightly—Now.
He rose.
"Prime Minister, your loyalty has long served the crown. Yet the flood you speak of drowns more than grain."
He motioned to her. "Lady Yan Ruo, present the evidence."
She stepped forward, her voice calm, resonant.
From her sleeve she drew three scrolls, their seals freshly broken.
"The ledgers recovered from Xu Han's estate show shipments marked as 'relief goods.' Yet the grain counts differ from the recorded manifests. A deficit of forty thousand shi."
Gasps rippled through the court.
Zhao Rong's smile did not falter. "The lady misunderstands the complexities of governance."
Cheng Cheng met his gaze. "Then perhaps you can explain why your son's seal appears on the contracts for weapon steel imported from the north?"
Her eyes—clear, unyielding—cut through his composure.
Li Yun's voice followed, colder than winter:
"Speak truth, Prime Minister."
Zhao Rong bowed, a fraction too low. "Your Highness doubts my loyalty?"
"Loyalty does not fear light," Li Yun said.
He gestured. "Bring forth the witnesses."
Two guards entered, dragging a trembling clerk. The man fell to his knees.
"I confess!" he cried. "The Prime Minister ordered us to divert funds—half the treasury went to private forges!"
Chaos erupted—shouted accusations, rustling robes, the metallic ring of drawn blades from startled guards.
Zhao Rong's mask finally cracked.
"Lies! Fabricated by a foreign woman who bewitches the Prince!"
The court fell silent.
Li Cheng Cheng did not flinch. "If my origin discredits truth, then let my actions speak."
She walked to the center dais, her steps unhurried, her veil trembling faintly in the draft.
With a flick of her wrist, she activated the data crystal hidden in her sleeve—System 003 projected shimmering holographic script into the air, ancient runes woven with light.
> (System 003: Visual proof sequence initiated.)
The room glowed with the floating image of the ledgers, the coded emblems shifting, revealing hidden inscriptions.
Each name, each amount, burned itself into the memory of every onlooker.
Whispers turned into uproar.
The Emperor, frail though he was, stirred. "Enough. Zhao Rong, you will be confined until inquiry is complete."
The Prime Minister's eyes blazed hatred, but he bowed, seething.
"As Your Majesty commands."
He turned toward Cheng Cheng as guards approached. "You have made powerful enemies, Lady Yan Ruo."
"I've met worse," she said softly.
---
When the court adjourned, Li Yun dismissed the others but asked her to stay.
Sunlight filtered through latticed windows, painting gold patterns across the marble floor.
"You did well," he said. "Too well. Zhao Rong will not fall quietly."
"I was not meant for quiet," she answered.
His lips curved. "That I've learned."
A pause stretched between them—gentle, charged, uncertain.
He stepped closer. "Every time you risk yourself, my patience frays."
Her heartbeat stuttered. "You would rather I stayed silent while corruption rotted your empire?"
"I would rather you stayed safe."
For a moment, neither spoke. The world outside moved on—the sound of banners flapping, a faint roll of distant thunder.
Then Li Yun turned away, eyes dark. "Tomorrow's inquiry will seal Zhao Rong's fate. Rest tonight. I'll double the guard."
She bowed, hiding a smile that was half gratitude, half ache. "As you command, Your Highness."
He watched her leave until her figure disappeared beyond the archway, a single red ribbon trailing from her sleeve.
And somewhere in the rafters above, unseen by both, a sliver of steel caught the sunlight—an assassin's arrow already waiting for dawn.
---
The sky before dawn was the color of a held breath.
Mist blanketed the palace roofs, muffling sound, turning everything soft and ghostly.
Only the faint hum of patrol bells echoed through the air.
Li Cheng Cheng moved through the eastern corridor, her footsteps soundless.
> (System 003: Environmental scan—hazard probability 21%… recalibrating—67%.)
Her hand stilled mid-motion.
Something was wrong.
She turned, scanning the rooflines, the shadows between pillars.
"Show yourself," she murmured.
But only silence answered.
Then—the faintest ripple in the air.
Wind trembled. The sound of a bowstring breaking the morning stillness.
She didn't think.
Across the courtyard, Li Yun emerged from the opposite side, scrolls in hand, his hair unbound from the early wind.
The arrow flew—black-feathered, fast, unerring.
Cheng Cheng moved before the system could warn her.
One step, two, and then she was between him and the arrow, silk sweeping like crimson fire.
A crack of impact. A choked sound.
And silence again—so deep it felt endless.
The scrolls fell from Li Yun's grasp.
He caught her as she crumpled against him, her weight frighteningly light.
For a moment, the world ceased to exist.
There was only her breath—thin, shivering—
and the warmth spreading across his hand where he held her.
"Yan Ruo—" His voice broke. "No, Cheng Cheng—open your eyes."
Her lashes fluttered. "You're safe… good."
"Why would you—"
"Because," she whispered, "you still have a kingdom to save."
Then her eyes closed.
---
[Shen Yi Rui's POV]
The alarms rang a heartbeat too late.
By the time he reached the courtyard, guards were shouting, servants scattering.
He saw the Prince kneeling in the pale light, his robe darkened where he cradled her.
Yi Rui's chest constricted. For an instant, he could not move.
"Seal the gates!" he barked, voice iron again. "No one leaves the palace!"
The assassin was gone, melted into shadows, but the General's attention never left her still form.
He knelt opposite Li Yun.
"Her pulse?"
"Faint," the Prince said, voice barely controlled. "The physician—now!"
Yi Rui rose, shouting for the healers, and when they came running, he turned away—because looking at her hurt too much.
He had seen soldiers fall. He had buried friends.
But never had he felt his breath tear in two like this.
When he finally faced Li Yun again, their eyes met—and in that moment, both men understood:
they would burn the empire itself to find whoever had done this.
---
[Li Yun's POV]
He waited outside the physician's chamber, sleeves stained, fingers trembling.
Every second felt like an eternity carved into his bones.
He had not known fear like this since the day he first took up a sword.
When Shen Yi Rui returned, he spoke quietly. "They've removed the arrow. She'll live if she wakes."
Li Yun nodded, but the motion felt hollow.
"Who sent the assassin?"
"Traces point to Zhao Rong's remaining allies."
"Then cut the roots," Li Yun said. His voice was no longer calm—it was ice. "Every last one."
Yi Rui bowed, but before leaving, he said, "She risked everything for you, Yun. Remember that before you harden too much."
When the door closed, Li Yun entered the room.
---
She lay pale against the silken pillows, her hair spilling like dark ink across the sheets.
A faint light hovered above her wrist—System 003 working silently, weaving threads of energy to sustain her.
He sat beside her, hands clasped. For once, he allowed himself no mask, no princely decorum.
"You should hate me," he whispered. "Every danger in this court circles me, yet you stand in its path as if you were meant to break it."
Her hand twitched faintly, and he caught it, holding it against his heart.
He remembered her smile when she defied the Prime Minister, her calm voice when others trembled.
He remembered thinking she was fire disguised as silk.
And now that fire had nearly gone out because of him.
"I told you to stay safe," he murmured. "And you told me to let you fight. So tell me, Cheng Cheng—how am I supposed to stop you?"
The wind slipped through the half-open window, scattering the petals of the night-blooming plum. One landed on her cheek, pale against her skin.
Li Yun brushed it away gently.
For a long while, he said nothing more—only sat there, watching her breathe, counting every rise and fall as if each were a promise.
---
[System 003 Internal Log]
> Host Vital Signs: Stabilizing.
Emotional Resonance (Subject Li Yun): Peak detected.
Annotation: Connection achieved.
Outcome: First thread of redemption formed.
---
[Li Cheng Cheng's Dreamscape]
She floated in light and shadow, hearing voices through water.
A man's voice—low, broken—calling her name not as "Lady Yan Ruo," but as herself.
> "Cheng Cheng… please wake up."
And in that fragile space between death and life, something within her stirred—a warmth she had long forgotten, the kind that once belonged to a girl betrayed and lost in another world.
Perhaps, she thought faintly, vengeance isn't the only thing that binds souls.
---
The dawn bells rang again, softer this time.
The first light touched the palace roofs, glimmering off tears that neither prince nor general would ever admit to shedding.
And in the quiet chamber, Li Cheng Cheng's fingers moved—just once—curling faintly around his hand.
---