A soft, pale light came through the window screens, casting scattered patterns on the floor.
Prince Cheng stood quietly, hands clasped behind his back as he stared into the fog beyond the palace walls.
"You asked me to investigate Lady Meiying," Yizé began.
Cheng didn't turn. "Speak."
Yizé paused briefly, but noticeably. "There was little to be found, Your Highness. Only that she is the daughter of Ruan Haofeng."
Cheng tilted his head slightly, showing the faintest shift of interest. "Ruan Haofeng… You mean the Líng Zhī Ruǎn Shì... the ones slaughtered that night?"
"Yes," Yizé said grimly. "That Ruan Haofeng."
A long breath left Cheng's nose, nearly inaudible, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the distant horizon.
"Lady Mei had already been sent to the Azure Lotus Sect by then," Yizé continued. "Years before everything unfolded. Distance spared her... perhaps it was luck."
Cheng moved at last, the fabric of his robes shifting subtly as his shoulders tensed. His reflection wavered in the glass, the only sign of motion in the quiet room.
He let the silence linger for a while.
"Anything else?"
Yizé bowed his head in deference. "Very little, my lord. She completed her studies and returned not long ago. Since then, she has kept to herself and reunited with her cousin, Lady Xiao."
Cheng nodded faintly, but Yizé could not tell if it meant he was pleased or troubled. The prince went back to quietly staring out at the misty landscape, lost in thoughts that no one else could understand.
Cheng's voice broke the silence once more, "And what of her household? Any history behind the Ruan clan?"
Yizé inclined his head. "Some, your highness. They were known as Spirit Imperial Physicians. The House of the Soul-Weavers. Healers trained not just in the body, but in the weaving of Qi and spirit. Their methods were said to be... unconventional. Some accused them of veering too close to forbidden arts, though nothing was ever proven."
Cheng went quiet, his mind drifting back to that night.
He could still smell the mix of blood and incense. The pressure in the air, like something old and powerful had come alive.
And Mei... like a spark ready to ignite.
Her eyes.
They had changed.
A sudden, vivid glow that bled from her irises like moonlight on deep water. Not merely reflective but illuminated. Alive.
There had been no mistaking the transformation. Like himself, she was guided by powers beyond her control.
A curse? he wondered. Or something Inherited?
She had not spoken of it afterward. In truth, she did not seem aware.
And yet, Cheng had been fully conscious. He had seen it. He had felt the shift in the air, the fracture in reality when her power had surged.
He clenched one hand slowly behind his back, his fingers curling with the tension of doubt.
Was she truly unaware?
Or was it her, driven by the wrong purpose?
"She didn't know," he murmured aloud, although to himself.
Yizé tilted his head. "Your highness?"
Cheng waved the question away, as if it were smoke. "Nothing. Just a memory."
Yizé shifted his stance, subtly leaning in toward Cheng. "It is time, my lord. The entourage is prepared. We should depart if we are to reach the foothills before dusk."
Cheng remained still for a moment longer, his gaze tracing the thinning veil of mist outside. Then, he nodded.
"Send for Mei,"
There was a pause.
"She has already left the palace," Yizé replied.
Cheng turned to him, just enough for the frown to settle faintly between his brows. "Left? When?"
"Earlier," Yizé said. "Shortly after dawn."
Cheng's eyes narrowed. "Did you hear where she was going?"
Yizé shook his head. "I didn't inquire. Shall I find out?"
Cheng regarded him for a minute, then waved the offer away with a slow flick of his fingers. "No. Don't bother."
He turned fully now, moving toward the lacquered table where his sword rested, sheathed and waiting. He lifted it to his side, his thoughts on Mei.
Of course she left.
He could already guess her destination.
....,...
Xiao exhaled mildly, recalling the moment she saw Mei earlier, just before her departure. Mei had returned safely and unharmed which was a relief. The memory of her father insisting she take Mei out of the palace for the festival surfaced unbidden. She wondered if he had ever found what he was looking for in Mei's chamber that day.
A sudden stab of pain cut through her abdomen, breaking her thoughts. She drew in a sharp breath, one hand instinctively moving to her swollen belly in an effort to calm the child within. Just as suddenly as it came, the pain faded. Xiao relaxed on the chair, breathing in slowly.
She rested a tender hand on her belly, murmuring quiet words meant to calm the child within. A soft knock interrupted her.
"Come in," she said gently.
The door eased open, revealing a young servant girl standing hesitantly, a basket of fresh linens held tightly in her arms.
"Forgive the intrusion, Lady Xiao. The laundress sent me to collect your soiled garments."
Xiao offered a gentle smile. "It is no trouble. Set the basket there, I will gather what needs washing."
She placed a few tunics, shifts, and scattered flower petals into the basket, pausing as her fingers brushed a faint stain on her favorite sleeping robe. As the maid departed, Xiao settled back on the chair, her gaze lingering on the worn fabric.
With her belly growing heavier by the day, her most comfortable clothes were seeing more use, and showing it.
A second knock followed swiftly. This time, a young maid, Ling stepped in, a sealed letter cradled in her hands.
"A message for you, my lady," she bowed as she offered it.
Xiao accepted it with mild curiosity, her eyes catching the red wax seal bearing her family's crest. "Thank you, Ling."
With another bow, Ling withdrew, quietly closing the door behind her.
She broke the seal, unfolding the letter with growing anticipation. As her eyes moved over the careful script, her breath caught on the weight of her father's words.
Xiao drew a deep breath, fighting back the tide of worry rising within her.
Her father's letter had been clear; she was to keep a careful watch on Mei from now on, alert for any "signs of instability."
She got up and started tying her hair back, with her mind full of questions. What was her father hiding? Why was he so intent on Mei?
And now that Mei had left the palace, how was she supposed to watch her at all?
Xiao began pacing the room, her hand drifted to her belly in an absent gesture. Her father's wrath was the stuff of legend, she had grown up beneath the thunder of his fury.
With a weary grunt, she dropped onto her bed.
"This would be no easy task."