The first light of dawn stretched over the Crimson Dragon Palace, spilling across red lacquered pillars and polished jade floors, painting the sprawling courtyard in hues of gold and crimson. Birds fluttered among the cherry blossom trees, their songs muffled by the distant clamor of palace servants beginning their morning routines. Yet in the center of the grand courtyard, one sound cut through all others: the loud, raucous laughter of Xiao Zhenyu, the youngest prince of the Tianlong Dynasty.
He stumbled across the courtyard in robes far too long, half of them dragging over the carved stones. His hair was disheveled, tied loosely at the back, strands falling into his sharp eyes. In one hand, he clutched a porcelain teacup—though it was already tilted dangerously—and with the other, he flailed dramatically as if performing for an unseen audience.
"Your Highness, must you always—" began one of the court officials, a plump man with spectacles sliding down his nose. He stopped mid-sentence, watching as the prince tripped over the edge of the stone steps, almost falling face-first into a flower bed of crimson chrysanthemums.
"Yes!" Xiao Zhenyu shouted, throwing his hands into the air and landing with a graceless bow. "Life is far too dull if one cannot stumble gracefully through it! Behold, my clumsy majesty!"
The surrounding courtiers sighed, rolled their eyes, and whispered behind their hands. The crown prince, tall and imposing, observed from the balcony above, a faint smirk curling on his lips. "A fool, indeed," he muttered, before turning his attention back to the morning reports. The second prince, always polite, offered a thin smile but the calculation in his eyes was sharper than any sword. Xiao Zhenyu was a child they all considered harmless—a public amusement and a private annoyance.
And that was exactly how he wanted them to think.
Because behind the clumsy grin and exaggerated stumbles, Xiao Zhenyu's eyes were sharp, calculating, and relentless. Every whispered insult, every skeptical glance, every gleam of contempt from the palace ministers and siblings was cataloged in the quiet recesses of his mind. The young prince knew he was the laughingstock of the Tianlong Dynasty, and he had learned to make it work in his favor.
From the shadows of the palace walls, his loyal servants observed. Qin Mo, tall and silent, leaned against the edge of the corridor, arms crossed, eyes unblinking. He had been serving Xiao Zhenyu since the boy had been old enough to crawl through the palace halls. And Feng Yan, a master swordsman loyal to the prince, stood nearby, silently polishing a blade whose sharpness had tasted blood before. Both men knew the truth hidden behind the façade: the laughing fool was a predator cloaked in jest.
Xiao Zhenyu's smile faltered for a heartbeat, just long enough for a shadow to pass across his mind. Tonight, another assassination attempt was expected. Rumors whispered that a faction within the palace wished to remove the youngest prince, believing him weak, vulnerable, and irrelevant. How little they knew.
He bent down, picking up the shattered fragments of the porcelain cup with deliberate care, as if savoring the irony. The courtiers might see a boy fumbling, a prince unfit for rule, but in truth, every movement, every stumble, every mock gesture was deliberate. A distraction, a shield, a way to keep their attention focused on the wrong things.
He straightened, bowing low to the imaginary audience of his own making. "You may laugh at me now, my esteemed court," he said, voice loud and theatrically foolish. "But mark my words—one day, you will all watch… and wish you had never mocked the Fool Prince."
A soft rustle behind him drew his attention. It was one of the palace servants, eyes wide and careful, lips sealed. Qin Mo stepped closer, his presence silent but commanding. "Your Highness," he murmured, voice low. "The east gate… shadows move. Likely scouts for tonight's attempt."
Xiao Zhenyu's lips curved into a faint, almost invisible smile. "I had expected as much," he said softly, bending to retrieve a hidden dagger from within his sleeve. No one watching could know that beneath his flowing sleeves, every thread of his clothing had been chosen with care—designed to hide weapons, protect him, and allow freedom of movement should he need it.
The Fool Prince might trip, spill tea, and fumble with scrolls, but the Veiled Dragon within him was already planning, already waiting, already prepared. Every whisper of threat, every shadow creeping along the palace corridors, every envy-filled glance from his siblings—he cataloged them all.
The courtyard quieted for a moment as the wind rustled the cherry blossoms. Xiao Zhenyu straightened, letting the dagger fall back into its concealed sheath, and laughed again—louder, more careless than before. It was a laugh designed to disarm, to deceive, to hide the predator beneath.
Tonight, the palace would see only the clown, the laughing fool. And tomorrow… they would see the dragon awaken. Lol