Her uncle, Lord Li Shen, came to collect her not long after. He wept at the
funeral. But behind closed doors, his voice was always sharp, his hands
always calculating.
He moved her to his Chang'an residence — a vast estate with high vermilion
walls and a frozen silence. There was no warmth there, no singing. Just
orders.
> "You're a girl of noble blood now. No more barefoot running. No more
garden dirt."
He dressed her in tight brocades, taught her how to bow, smile, and speak
like a lady. But her heart wilted. She missed her mother's flute, her father's
star charts.
By the time she was ten, she overheard him speaking to a court envoy:
> "Yes, she's beautiful. Round-faced like a doll. When she comes of age,
we'll marry her into the emperor's line — for the family's gain."
That night, she stopped crying. A fire began to burn beneath her skin.