The Duke Manor sat beneath the soft glow of the afternoon sun, its red tiles warm and familiar. Yet, as Empress Lian An stepped onto the stone path leading to the main hall, the air felt strangely heavy—too still, too quiet.
Her heart tightened.
This was the consequence of her own hands.
Before she escaped the palace and faked her plague, she had sent her family a letter—
A lie coated in good intention—
saying:
"Do not worry for me. I am only resting. I need time."
A gentle lie.
A comforting lie.
But it had made them restless. More restless than silence ever would have.
Because she had not returned.
Because she did not write again.
Because the palace released no message.
So the Duke Manor had lived in suspended fear—
not knowing whether to trust the letter,
not knowing whether to believe the palace rumors,
not knowing if she was alive or secretly hidden away.
Her father.
Her mother.
Her younger sister Lian Hua.
Her eldest cousin Lian Rou.
