Xin Ying's improvement did not go unnoticed.
At dawn, the training yard echoed with the sharp crack of wood against wood. Xin Ying moved steadily now—no longer rushing, no longer relying on instinct alone. Her stance had shifted, favoring balance over speed, awareness over sight.
She listened.
A footstep behind her left shoulder.
She turned and blocked.
The impact traveled up her arms, but she held firm.
"Well done," the instructor said, surprised.
Xin Ying exhaled slowly.
Her right side still felt like a weakness—but no longer an opening.
I don't need both eyes, she thought. I only need to survive.
That same morning, court politics stirred.
Within the council hall, voices overlapped like clashing waves.
"The Empress relies too heavily on a common-born guard," one official said.
"She has no clan backing," another added. "Her presence disrupts balance."
"She saved Her Majesty's life," Wang Tianhua countered calmly. "That loyalty should not be dismissed."
Ling Zhihao finally spoke.
"Loyalty is admirable," he said smoothly. "But unchecked influence is dangerous."
All eyes turned to him.
"A servant elevated so quickly," he continued, "may attract resentment—or worse. Perhaps she should be tested."
Li Yuetong's gaze sharpened. "Tested how?"
Ling Zhihao smiled faintly. "In the open. Let the court see whether she truly deserves her position."
The suggestion lingered.
Like a challenge.
The test came sooner than expected.
In the outer courtyard, Xin Ying stood beside the Empress as officials gathered for a ceremonial inspection. The air felt tight, strained—too many eyes watching, measuring.
Ling Zhihao stepped forward.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing. "Allow me to test the skill of your new guard. For reassurance."
Xin Ying's hand tightened slightly around her weapon.
Li Hua's gaze was cold. "This is not a spectacle."
"Of course not," Ling Zhihao replied. "Only a demonstration."
Silence stretched.
"Very well," Li Hua said at last. "But you will not injure her."
Ling Zhihao smiled. "Naturally."
A practice spear was brought forward.
Ling Zhihao moved without warning.
Fast.
Xin Ying stepped in front of the Empress instantly, spear deflecting just inches from silk robes. She pivoted, blade catching the shaft, redirecting the force.
Gasps rippled through the courtyard.
Ling Zhihao pressed harder.
She retreated one step—then adjusted, listening, feeling.
She struck back.
The wooden blade stopped at Ling Zhihao's throat.
Stillness.
Ling Zhihao laughed softly. "Impressive."
Xin Ying did not lower her weapon until Li Hua spoke.
"That is enough."
Ling Zhihao stepped back, bowing deeply.
The court murmured—not with doubt now, but recognition.
That afternoon, the palace garden was peaceful.
Willow branches swayed gently over stone paths. Li Hua walked slowly beside Li Yuetong, attendants dismissed, their voices low.
"She stopped him without hesitation," Li Yuetong said.
"She always does," Li Hua replied.
Li Yuetong studied her carefully. "You protect her more than you protect most."
Li Hua paused.
"That is my duty."
Li Yuetong smiled slightly. "Is it?"
Li Hua did not answer at once.
"You rarely let anyone close," Li Yuetong continued. "Yet you stayed by her bedside. You promoted her personally. You watch her train."
Silence.
"…Do you have feelings for her?" Li Yuetong asked gently.
Li Hua stopped walking.
The garden seemed to hold its breath.
"I do not know," Li Hua said finally. "But I know this—when she was injured, I feared losing her."
Li Yuetong's smile softened. "That's more than curiosity."
Li Hua looked away, gaze distant. "The throne allows no indulgence."
"Neither does the heart," Li Yuetong replied.
That night, Xin Ying trained again.
Her movements were steadier now, her balance surer. She could block attacks she no longer saw coming. She could stand her ground.
She wiped sweat from her brow and glanced toward the palace halls.
Ling Zhihao is testing me openly now, she thought. Which means the story is accelerating.
She exhaled.
I survived the first change.
Her grip tightened.
I'll survive the next.
Above her, the moon rose quietly—witness to a court sharpening its knives, a ruler learning to care, and a guard becoming something far more dangerous than fate had planned.
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