Grey light seeped through lattice shutters as Lian Zhen followed Prince Ren Feng into the Crimson Orchid Council Hall—a tiered amphitheatre where ministers debated laws and sharpened vendettas. Incense guttered in long braziers, mingling with the papery smell of scroll ink. Thirty‑three councillors occupied carved sandalwood benches, their rank feathers bristling like a cautious aviary. Whispered rumours had hatched overnight; now they took wing across the chamber.
At the lowest tier stood a jade platform bearing a single lacquer lectern—witness position. Ren's name slip already lay upon it. A second slip, blank but crimson‑bordered, waited beside his: clearly reserved for the woman who had derailed a flood and the day's gossip.
Minister Si Ming, silver‑mulberry badge gleaming, stepped forward to greet them—smile fixed and sharp. "Your Highness, Lady Zhen. The Council appreciates punctuality. Lives, after all, may depend on accuracy of yesterday's… stone‑weaving."
Lian returned a cordial bow, recalling how he'd tried to block her passage. "Accuracy thrives on informed questions, Minister. I trust we will hear many today."
[SYSTEM] Minor Hostility detected – Si Ming
Hidden Objective: Undermine Si Ming's credibility without open insult (Reward +15 AP)
Ren squeezed her elbow lightly—agreement or warning—then mounted the platform. Lian followed, gown's bronze cranes flashing under council lanterns.
High Chancellor Madam Wei Huang, robes of sable trimmed in glacier blue, struck her jade gavel. "The Forty‑Second Emergency Council session is called. Topic: Report on the Southern Reservoir Incident." Her gaze swept the hall, pausing on Lian. "And the arcane techniques employed therein."
Quills scratched. Scribes perched along mezzanine rails like watchful crows.
Madam Wei continued, "Prince Ren, your executive summary."
Ren's voice carried calm authority as he detailed time stamps, troop allocations, Lian's stabilisation method, and projected repair costs. He concluded with measured praise for guild masons and Lian's real‑time geomantic assessment.
Si Ming raised a parchment. "Commendable heroics—but we lack independent verification. Lady Zhen, what formal credentials qualify you to wield prohibited geocyclic inscriptions?"
The trap opened, but Lian stepped in willingly. "Before my sealing, I served as Deputy Curator of Imperial Formations, Palace Archives Division. Credentials archived under Emperor Jian Zhi." She nodded toward Archivist Guo seated in visitor gallery; his surprise was genuine.
Murmurs rippled—ancient office resurrected.
Madam Wei's gavel stilled the noise. "Archivist Guo, can documentation be produced?"
Guo stood, bow creaking. "Given one day, Honoured Chancellor, I will retrieve the ledger."
Lian added, "And if the ledger has suffered… accidental redaction, my geomantic seal remains etched beneath the archive's central plinth. Stone remembers, even when ink does not."
Heads turned. Ministers exchanged uncertain glances—none eager to crawl under stacks to test her claim.
[SYSTEM] Credibility Shift – Si Ming influence –10 %
Hostability Mitigated (objective partial)
AP +8
Si Ming attempted another angle: "Your method may have stabilised cracks but reports say Lotus‑Bridge flooded the same night. Could your dust have diverted disaster rather than prevented it?"
Ren opened his mouth, but Lian touched his sleeve—permission to parry.
She faced Si with calm. "The bridge sits five leagues downstream. Heavy rain swelled tributaries unconnected to the reservoir. But if you fear residual risk, grant me survey access and I will mend that bridge free of charge—under your personal oversight."
Laughter rippled; Si's cheeks blotched.
[SYSTEM] Hostility neutralised – Objective complete (+15 AP)
Madam Wei allowed herself a thin smile. "Proposal recorded. Minister Si will accompany Lady Zhen at dusk."
A ringing chime signalled break for tea. Ministers filed out, whispering. Lian exhaled slowly. Ren leaned closer, voice low: "Round one, advantage to you."
She studied the empty lectern. "Rounds are many. Council halls breed long wars."
He offered an arm. "Then we fortify before the next volley."
They stepped off the platform as servants carried in jasmine‑steam teapots.
Council recess spilled nobles into the Cloud‑Kettle Tea Hall, a skylit atrium where steam braziers scented the air with jasmine and dried mandarin peel. Whispering currents eddied around marble koi fountains, each stone fish spouting threads of hot water into porcelain kettles. Alliances here brewed faster than leaves.
Ren was pulled aside by Chancellor Wei's deputy, leaving Lian momentarily unchaperoned. She drifted past tables, the bronze cranes on her gown rustling like hushed wings. Conversations dipped as she neared, then rose behind her—flavors of awe, fear, envy.
In a corner alcove Lady Qiu Jing poured from a sky‑blue ewer. Two seats—one empty, one occupied by a young scholar in ink‑black robes stamped with the Grand Scribe Lu Academy seal. Delicate spectacles perched on his nose; he traced invisible brushstrokes even while drinking.
Qiu's smile sharpened. "Lady Zhen, join us. Tea tastes dull without fresh stories."
Lian accepted, settling onto brocade cushions. Qiu poured fragrant brew—steam curling like dragon whiskers—while the scholar introduced himself: Zhu Wenhao, Assistant Curator of Imperial Chronicles.
"I compile notable events," Wenhao said, eyes bright. "Today will certainly qualify."
Lian tapped the rim of her cup. "Record accurately: hero masons, stubborn prince, reformed villainess."
He laughed softly. "History shines when complex."
As Qiu passed the cup, Lian noticed a folded paper slip tucked beneath the saucer—blink‑and‑miss. She kept her expression serene, accepted tea, and let the note slide unseen into her sleeve.
[SYSTEM] Hidden message acquired. Recommend secure reading.
Wenhao leaned forward, voice lowered. "Rumor says you command stones. Rumor also whispers of shard cults resurfacing—sects worshiping crystalline relics. Any truth?"
"Rumor solves boredom," Lian replied calmly. "Facts are dearer."
Qiu's fan fluttered—whether in amusement or calculation, hard to tell. Ren returned, eyebrow arched at the tableau. Lian rose gracefully. "Thank you for tea, Lady Qiu. Master Zhu."
"Anytime," Qiu purred. Wenhao bowed.
In the corridor Ren asked, "Allies or vipers?"
"Both steep in hot water," she murmured, fingering the hidden slip.
Alone in a side gallery, she unfolded the note. Blank—until the System highlighted faint rune residue.
Heat‑activated script detected. Engaging low‑spectrum scan…
Letters surfaced: "Moon Gate, midnight. Bring shard dust. Trust no cranes." Unsigned.
Mission Offer: Investigate Midnight Messenger — Reward +20 AP | Risk: Unknown
She smiled. "Midnight it is."
Crimson twilight painted the sky as a slim barge ferried Lian, Minister Si Ming, and a squad of engineers to Lotus‑Bridge. The span arched across swollen waters like a pale spine; broken lanterns bobbed near the pilings, evidence of the previous night's flood surge.
Si Ming stood stiff at the prow, damp cloak snapping in wind. "Bridge crews report hairline fractures in the keystones"—he rapped a rolled map—"but no full breach."
"No breach yet," Lian corrected, eyes narrowing on darkened mortar seams. Shard-sense tingled—stone vibrating at an anxious frequency.
[SYSTEM] Structural stress nodes ×12. One node shows tampering: foreign sigil embedded.
They disembarked onto rain‑slippery planks. Workers bowed, relief mixing with curiosity. Lian directed two masons to place lime markers; the fractures glowed faint under dusk.
Si Ming's skepticism faded to concern. "That pattern… almost serpentine."
"Serpents coil to strike," Lian muttered. She scraped a sample—black powder laced with runic etches.
Analysis: Combustion‑rune compound. Delayed ignition—approx. trigger at first moonrise.
Moonrise was less than an hour.
Lian barked, "Evacuate workers to riverbanks—now!" Some hesitated until Si Ming shouted the same order. Boots thudded as crews fled.
She knelt, tracing counter‑glyphs with shard dust and chalk, layering sigils designed to absorb force rather than reflect it.
Ren, arriving by horse with a lantern, dismounted fast. "Report?"
"Sabotage, timed detonation," she said, hands moving. "Need a containment ring."
He yanked ropes from the supply cart, creating a perimeter. Si Ming surprisingly joined, anchoring pegs despite mud ruining his brocade.
As the silver rim of moon breached treetops, sigils on the tampered node lit sickly green.
Countdown: 00:01:30…
"Stand back," Lian warned. She pressed both palms to the stone, channeling Crystal Breath. Turquoise circuitry flared across the bridge deck, wrapping the hostile glyph in a cocoon of shard‑frost.
The detonation burst—muffled, contained. Frost cracked; steam hissed; boards rattled but held. When dust cleared, the saboteur glyph lay inert, frozen like an insect in amber.
Emergency Neutralization Success — +15 AP
Meridian Flow +1 % (now 25)
Minister Si Ming Hostility –15 % (shifting to Wary Respect)
Si Ming exhaled shakily. "You… shielded us all."
"I shielded the people who cross this bridge at dawn," Lian replied, wiping frost from her fingers.
Ren eyed the blackened powder. "Cult work?"
"Likely. Same shard residue signature." She pocketed a fragment of the faded glyph as evidence.
A constable captain approached, breathless. "Tracks on the north bank—footprints leading into red cedar groves. Orders?"
Si Ming glanced at Lian, then Ren. "Gather scout riders. I'll draft pursuit writ. Lady Zhen, your expertise… invaluable." The humility tasted genuine.
[SYSTEM] Side Quest Unlocked: Track Moon‑Saboteur. Reward +25 AP | Penalty: None
Night breeze chilled sweat on her neck. Lanterns were relit, casting soft gold across the secured span. Workers cheered from the banks; a child waved a reed flag in silent thanks.
Ren clasped Lian's forearm. "Your record of heroics grows."
"Heroics attract higher‑caliber enemies," she murmured but allowed a small smile.
They boarded the barge for the return. Water mirrored rising moon, serene now. Si Ming stood near the rail—no longer adversary, perhaps reluctant ally.
The minister cleared his throat. "I misjudged you, Lady Zhen. Consider my ledger revised."
"Offer ink, not blood," she replied. "We'll write a safer empire together."
The barge pushed upriver. Behind them Lotus‑Bridge glimmered restored, a silver arc under moonlight—silent testimony that villains could build as well as break.
The palace grounds lay hushed under a gibbous moon, corridors lit only by sensor‑lanterns that bloomed pale blue under passing footsteps. Lian slipped from her guest suite at the final toll of the dog‑watch bell. The Lotus‑Leaf Medallion nestled beneath her cloak, and in a slim bamboo tube she carried three fingers' worth of shard dust—insurance or bait.
[SYSTEM] Stealth phase active. Guards' patrol interval: 4 min 12 sec. Suggested route: Serenity Garden → Pebble Brook → Moon Gate.
She paced herself to the glide of shadows, skirts whispering over cobbles. Crickets serenaded from ornamental thickets; beyond the wall an owl questioned the night.
The Moon Gate—a circular portal of white granite set in the garden's outer wall—framed a slice of midnight sky. Moonlight poured through, silvering dew on trimmed moss. No sentries. Perfect for clandestine meetings.
Lian waited, senses prodding the silence. A breeze carried magnolia scent… and faint ozone. She pivoted just as a figure materialised from behind the curved arch's left buttress.
He—or she—wore charcoal silk robes patterned with shards fracturing across fabric. A hood concealed features save for a breathing veil of black gauze. Fingers, gloved in pale leather, lifted in greeting: open palm with three extended digits—an old sign for Tri‑Mouth Sect, historically rumored to guard shard lore.
"Lady Zhen," the stranger whispered, voice modulated by some brass throat‑disk. "Your emergence rattles calm waters."
"Calmness invites stagnation," she answered. "You requested dust."
She unstoppered the bamboo tube. Turquoise motes drifted. The stranger stepped forward but halted as Lian's free hand ghosted near a hidden hairpin dagger.
"No harm," the stranger said, producing a crystal lens suspended in bronze gimbal. Symbols flickered along its rim—a portable scry‑scope. Through the lens, the dust coalesced into patterns like ice cracking. The stranger inhaled. "Anchor Sync rising already… remarkable."
"State purpose," Lian demanded.
"To warn you," the figure said. "Our sect has intercepted chatter: a faction within the Inner Court seeks to 'recycle' the Crystal‑Bound for parts. They covet your Anchor Potential."
"Recycling" sent a chill: extraction, vivisection, rune harvesting.
She masked disgust. "Names?"
"Not yet. Their sigil is a split phoenix—half obsidian, half void. They call themselves the Novus Plume."
[SYSTEM] New Faction logged: NOVUS PLUME — hostility unknown.
The stranger offered a sealed parchment coiled in red twine. "Coordinates to one of their listening shrines. A gesture of goodwill."
Lian accepted. "Why aid me?"
"Tri‑Mouth hopes to keep shards in living hands, not dissected laboratories." The figure withdrew a step. "But heed this: the medallion grants you protections; it also marks you bright as torch to those who hunt anchors."
Before she could press further, palace bell rang half‑past the Rat hour. Patrol torches flickered near garden gate.
The stranger vanished in back‑step blur, cloak seeming to melt into ornamental shadows.
Mission Updated: Investigate Novus Plume Shrine — Reward +30 AP | Risk: High (combat likely)
She tucked the scroll inside her sleeve.
"Who was that?" Ren's voice, low but urgent, sounded behind. He emerged from yew arch, cloak thrown hastily. "I sensed qi flux."
"An informant," she said, steady. "One who fears we may be harvested for spare miracles."
Ren stiffened. "Over my dead body."
She pocketed the shard tube. "Possibility accounted for." The faint jest didn't mute tension.
Moonlight traced silver across his jaw. "We'll plan at dawn. Until then, keep rooms locked."
"And you?"
"Patrol route adjustment," he said, half‑smile drawn. "Heroes attract higher‑caliber enemies, remember?"
She inclined her head. Together they ghosted back toward lantern glow, separate shadows briefly overlapping.
Behind them, magnolia petals drifted through Moon Gate like silent applause for secrets traded in starlight.