Inside the candle-lit chamber, Princess Roa held Yunxi's hands in hers. There was a softness in her eyes that hadn't been there before.
"I'm sorry," Roa whispered. "For what happened during the hunt… and for my brother's coldness."
Yunxi gave a small smile, though her eyes still carried the shadow of the bear and the memory of Chen's accusing glare.
"You don't need to apologize for him. He's only doing his duty… and protecting you."
Roa's gaze dropped for a moment, as if there was more she wanted to say.
But then, the doors opened quietly.
A young woman stepped in — elegant, poised, with dark lavender robes and a fan tucked into her sash.
"You must be Yunxi," she said, a soft smile playing on her lips.
"This is our sister," Roa said warmly. "Cheonsa. She's quieter than me — but don't let her fool you. Her eyes miss nothing."
Yunxi bowed respectfully. "It's an honour to meet you, Princess Cheonsa."
Cheonsa tilted her head slightly. "No need for titles when we're alone. I'm not one for palace formalities."
Her tone was kind, but her gaze lingered just a second longer on Yunxi than expected — observant, curious.
"I've heard many things," Cheonsa added softly, moving to pour tea. "But I prefer to see with my own eyes."
Yunxi didn't know whether to feel comforted or tested. But there was something… almost familiar in Cheonsa's calm demeanour.
"If you're staying in this palace," Cheonsa said, handing her a teacup, "you'll need more than kindness. You'll need allies."
"Then I hope to earn yours," Yunxi replied, steady.
Cheonsa smiled — just a hint of one — and raised her cup.
"We shall see."
The Hidden Watcher
Cheonsa set down her teacup with a faint clink. Her eyes scanned Yunxi again — not in judgment, but as if mentally placing her on a chessboard.
"The palace has its own rhythm," she murmured, "but not all music can be heard by the ears."
Yunxi blinked. "What do you mean?"
Cheonsa stood gracefully, walking to the open balcony.
"Some truths live in silence. Some warnings… in smiles."
Roa laughed softly. "There she goes again. Cheonsa always speaks in riddles."
But Yunxi felt a chill — not fear, but awareness. Cheonsa knew more than she let on.
"You're not safe yet, Yunxi," Cheonsa said without turning around. "No matter what title they give you."
She looked over her shoulder, eyes unreadable.
"Be careful where you place your trust. Especially with brothers who don't smile
A Father's Worry
The moonlight had long faded by the time Yunxi returned to her quarters. Yet her mind refused to rest.
Cheonsa's voice lingered in her thoughts like smoke:
"Some truths live in silence...
Some warnings… in smiles."
She sat in front of the mirror, absentmindedly brushing her hair, when a knock broke the silence.
"Yunxi," came the deep, familiar voice of her father — General Yun.
She stood quickly, surprised. He rarely came without sending word.
In the Garden Pavilion
Under the lantern's soft glow, General Yun studied her — not as a soldier studies an enemy, but as a father watches his daughter fight invisible battles.
"You've been quiet," he said, pouring her tea. "Since the hunting incident. Since… that boy."
Yunxi looked down. "It's nothing."
He raised an eyebrow — the same look he gave soldiers who lied about injuries.
"You're thinking about what Cheonsa said, aren't you?"
She looked up, startled.
"You heard?"
"I hear everything in this palace," he said dryly. "Especially when it concerns you."
She hesitated. Then:
"Do you trust her?"
He paused.
"Cheonsa plays the long game. Always has. She speaks little, but acts much. Just because someone whispers doesn't mean they're hiding evil."
He leaned closer, voice low:
"But in this palace, Yunxi… everyone plays a role. Including you now."
The City of Smoke and Silk
The market buzzed with life.
Yunxi stepped out of the palace carriage disguised in a simple cloak, her maid trailing behind her. She had begged the General to let her explore the city — just once — and surprisingly, he agreed.
"Just don't draw attention," he warned. "You're no longer invisible."
She smiled at the memory.
Now, walking among the lanterns, the smell of sesame oil, roasted chestnuts, and fresh ink filled her senses.
"So this is the capital…" she whispered to herself. "It feels more real than the palace."
She wandered through:
A calligrapher's stall, where poems were painted on floating paper. A puppet show, acting out ancient tales of love and betrayal. A mask vendor, selling beautifully carved faces with whispered meanings.
She paused at a music stall, eyes catching on a jade flute. Her fingers brushed it gently.
"You play?" asked the shopkeeper.
"A little," she replied. "More in dreams than in reality."
A Strange Encounter
As she turned into a quieter alley, following the scent of lotus cakes, she bumped into someone — hard.
A man in black robes, eyes hidden under a wide hat.
"Apologies," she said quickly.
He didn't respond. But as he brushed past, something dropped from his sleeve — a small piece of parchment.
Yunxi picked it up out of reflex…
It had only two words written in elegant strokes:
"Watch Cheonsa."
Her blood ran cold.
When she turned to return it, he was already gone.
Rou Rou tugged at her sleeve.
"We should return. You promised the General not to stay long."
Yunxi nodded, but one last glance behind made her freeze.
At the far end of the street stood a woman in lavender robes. Her fan was open, hiding her lips — but her eyes gleamed.
Cheonsa.
And just as quickly, she turned down an alley and vanished.
Collision in the Crowd
The crowd suddenly surged.
A street performer lit a ring of fire and the crowd rushed to see. Yunxi turned to warn Rou Rou — but someone pushed from behind.
"Ah—!"
She stumbled forward, losing her balance—
—and fell directly into someone's chest.
Strong arms caught her before she could fall to the ground. Her breath hitched. Her eyes slowly travelled up to meet—
Chen.
His face was stone. Those icy, emotionless eyes locked onto hers with a flash of annoyance — or was it recognition?
"You," he said coldly.
Yunxi's heart skipped.
Rou Rou gasped behind her. "Miss Yunxi!"
She straightened quickly, brushing off her cloak. "I… I didn't see—"
"Don't speak," Chen cut her off. "You shouldn't be here."
He looked around sharply — assessing danger, calculating escape, or simply fuming that she'd appeared in his world again.
"I didn't follow you," she said quietly. "I came to see the city. That's all."
A pause.
"You never see the consequences of your actions," he muttered.
Yunxi's chest tightened.
"You still believe I hurt your sister."
Chen didn't reply. He simply turned, leaving her with a swirl of his cloak — vanishing into the crowd like smoke.
But not before slipping something into her palm — so quickly even Rou Rou missed it.
A folded silk ribbon.
When she opened it later… it was hers.
The one she lost the night she played the piano.
What Yunxi Missed…
Yunxi stared at the silk ribbon in her palm as the market noise faded around her. Her fingers trembled slightly.
"Miss, is that… yours?" Rou Rou leaned in.
Yunxi nodded slowly.
"I lost it… that night."
The night she played the piano beneath the moonlight. The ribbon had been in her hair. She was sure of it. She never found it again after that.
But now… here it was.
She turned it over. It looked untouched — until her fingers brushed the edge.
There was a tiny slit at the seam — invisible to the eye, but stitched with precision.
She leaned closer. Inside, something crackled faintly.
Carefully, Yunxi pulled it apart — and a folded piece of silk paper slipped out, no larger than her thumb.
She unfolded it.
Four words, written in the same calligraphy from the market note:
"You are being watched."
Moonlight Pavilion – A Heart Under Watch
The courtyard was quiet. Too quiet.
Yunxi sat alone in the Moonlight Pavilion, the wind stirring her hair as the silk ribbon rested in her palm. The words echoed in her mind:
"You are being watched."
She had come here seeking calm — but all she felt was cold.
Her gaze drifted to the piano at the corner of the pavilion, now dusted with night dew. She ran her fingers across the keys, but didn't play.
"What's going on…" she whispered. "Am I in danger?"
She retraced everything in her mind:
Cheonsa's cryptic smile at the palace.
The note in the market.
Chen's cold warning, and yet… the returned ribbon.
Princess Roa's injury, still shrouded in guilt.
And now this — a stranger tracking her, secrets sewn into silk.
"Why me?" she whispered.
"Why bring me into this world… if all I'm meant to do is break?"
She placed the ribbon next to the piano.
Suddenly, a petal from the wisteria tree above fluttered down and landed beside it. Yunxi's heart thudded. That tree only blossomed at full moon — the same night she'd first played.
And she remembered.
That night… she felt someone watching.
She hadn't imagined it.
The Song Beneath the Moon
The moon hung high, casting silver light across the pavilion. The petals of the wisteria fluttered down like soft snowfall.
Yunxi sat at the piano.
For a moment, her fingers hovered above the keys… trembling.
Then, she let them fall.
A soft note.
Then another.
A melody — broken, tender, aching.
Each note was a memory:
– The betrayal in her real world.
– The loneliness of time travel.
– The confusion in Chen's eyes.
– The unspoken warning wrapped in silk.
Tears slid down her cheeks silently.
"Why can't I go back?"
"Why him?"
"Why now?"
Her music swelled — painful, raw. The kind of melody that could pierce through Armor, even the cold steel of Prince Chen's heart.
And maybe…
It did.
Meanwhile…
In the shadows beyond the pavilion, Chen stood silently, arms crossed, hidden beneath the night.
He didn't move.
He didn't speak.
But he didn't leave.
As the final note rang out — a soft, broken whisper of sound — Yunxi collapsed forward, her forehead resting against the keys.
She cried.
Not like a girl who was weak.
But like a girl who'd been strong for too long