Lady Shen didn't bleed easily.
But that night, when Yun arrived at her chamber, he found her kneeling by the incense altar, her sleeve soaked in crimson.
"You're hurt," he said sharply, rushing forward.
"It's shallow," she muttered, wincing as she pressed a cloth to her forearm. "One of the inner court maids turned on me. I didn't see it coming."
Yun knelt beside her. "Let me see."
She hesitated—then let the cloth fall.
A long, curved slice stretched across her forearm. Not deep, but deliberate.
"This wasn't random," he said. "They're testing us. Trying to rattle you."
"They want to see if I'll break," she murmured. "Or if you'll protect me."
Yun dipped the cloth in warm water and dabbed gently at the wound. "What do you think I'll do?"
She met his eyes.
"You'll try to save everyone… even if it kills you."
He didn't answer.
But his hands didn't tremble.
He wrapped her arm tightly in fresh bandage silk.
When he was done, his fingers lingered—not out of hesitation, but something slower. Something neither of them named.
Not yet.
Later, Yun stood alone on the northern terrace, the pendant beneath his robe pulsing faintly against his chest.
He'd tried channeling spiritual energy into it. The sigil remained dormant. But he knew something had changed inside him.
Since opening the sealed box…
Since reading the letters…
Since trusting her.
He sensed someone behind him.
Not a servant.
Not her.
"Uncle," Yun said, not turning around.
Li Chen stepped forward, his footsteps quiet as falling leaves.
"You've grown strong," he said. "Too strong for someone who just returned from exile."
Yun's jaw tightened. "You sound disappointed."
"I'm concerned," his uncle replied, folding his hands behind his back. "You've been… busy."
"I've been reclaiming what's mine."
Li Chen smiled faintly. "Is that what you think this is? Reclaiming?"
He stepped closer.
"Your mother's death broke this house, Yun. What you're doing—digging up her past—it won't bring her back. It won't make your father's decisions any kinder."
Yun turned to face him.
"But it will make sure no one else suffers because of it."
There it was—the flicker in Li Chen's eyes.
Fear, carefully hidden behind formality.
"Be careful where you walk," his uncle said. "Not every shadow here belongs to you."
He walked away without another word.
Yun didn't move for a long time.
That night, Lady Shen sent him a folded note beneath his door.
Meet me in the red lantern room. Midnight. Come alone.
He arrived first.
The red lantern room—named for its always-burning crimson flame—was deep within the estate's unused quarters. Once reserved for meditation, now forgotten.
She stood at the center of the room, her back to him, bathed in warm red glow.
"You could've sent a message with a servant," he said.
"I didn't want eyes watching."
She turned. Her robe was simple—soft brown, her hair loose, her face bare of cosmetics.
She looked younger. Almost… vulnerable.
"There's something I need to tell you," she said.
Yun stepped closer. "What is it?"
Her voice was low. Controlled.
"I think your father didn't die of illness."
Yun froze.
"…What?"
She looked at him now, eyes hardening.
"I think he was poisoned."
He moved quickly, closing the distance between them. "By who?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "But I know this—he started investigating the Flame Sigil six months before his death. He received messages. Locked scrolls. He had guards replaced without explanation."
"You think it was the same people who came after my mother?"
"I think he got too close to something," she said. "And someone silenced him before he could finish."
Yun took a step back, running a hand through his hair.
"Then we're standing in the middle of a house that's eaten two heads of the family," he said.
She nodded.
"And they'll want a third."
They sat in silence for a moment, surrounded by the glow of the red lanterns.
Finally, she asked, "Do you ever… wish things were simpler?"
He looked at her. "Like how?"
"Like if I weren't your stepmother."
The words landed like a spark in dry leaves.
Yun didn't speak for a moment.
Then: "Do you?"
She smiled, but there was no joy in it.
"Every time you look at me like I'm more than just a strategist. Or a tool. Every time you speak my name without formality."
Yun stared at her.
"What if I don't care about titles?" he asked.
"Then you'll get burned," she said.
But she didn't move away.
Neither did he.
The red lantern flickered between them.
Neither touched.
But the air did.
That night, as Yun returned to his room, he passed one of the estate's old stone columns.
Etched into it—faint, fresh—was the mark of a burning flame.
Someone else had seen it.
Someone else had left a message.
The game was far from over.
But now…
Someone else had joined the board.