Pain came first.
Not sharp—heavy. As if her head were wrapped in layers of cloth soaked with stone. Every thought dragged, every breath felt earned.
Xueyi tried to move.
Her body refused.
*What… happened?*
Fragments surfaced slowly—incense, sunlight through carved windows, a cup placed too carefully before her. And then—
The Queen.
Her voice.
Her smile.
Xueyi's chest tightened.
She tried to open her eyes.
Nothing.
Darkness pressed back, thick and stubborn. Panic fluttered weakly in her chest, but even that felt distant, dulled.
She tried again.
Still nothing.
Then—sound.
"Jiya."
Her breath stuttered.
"Jiya, wake up. Why are you sleeping at this time?"
The voice was familiar. Too familiar.
"Come on, wake up," it scolded lightly. "Otherwise you'll have to deal with the sandals."
Sandals?
Confusion cut through the fog.
*What sandals…?*
That voice—
Her mother's.
*No. That's my mother's voice.*
Her lashes trembled.
Slowly—so slowly—it felt like lifting a mountain—her eyes opened.
Light flooded in.
She was in her room.
*Her* room. The small one with the old wooden cabinet, the faded curtain that always let in too much morning sun.
Her mother stood near the cabinet, back turned, muttering softly as she searched for something.
"Where did I put it…" her mother murmured.
Xueyi stared.
Her throat tightened painfully.
"M… Mother?" she tried to say.
No sound came out.
Her head throbbed violently.
The room swayed.
The pain spiked—sudden, unbearable—like something tearing her back out of a dream.
Xueyi squeezed her eyes shut.
*This isn't real.*
When she opened them again—
The scent changed.
No old wood. No familiar dust.
Instead—clean linen. Faint medicinal herbs. And something else—
Jin Wei.
She was no longer in her childhood room.
She was in **Jin Wei's chamber**.
Her vision was blurred, but she could make out his silhouette beside the bed, seated too close, armor discarded, hair loose as if he had not bothered to tie it properly.
The moment she stirred, he froze.
"Xueyi?"
Her name sounded broken in his voice.
Before she could even fully focus, he leaned forward—and then arms wrapped around her, careful but desperate, as if afraid she might disappear again if he loosened his grip.
"You're awake," he breathed, voice low, unsteady. "You're awake."
Her forehead pressed against his shoulder.
She could feel his heartbeat—fast, real.
Warm.
"I thought…" His grip tightened for half a heartbeat before he forced himself to ease. "Don't scare me like that again."
Her throat burned.
"…Jin Wei," she whispered.
Relief washed through his expression so visibly it hurt to see.
"You're safe," he said firmly, as if saying it would make it true forever. "Physicians are outside. You've been unconscious for hours."
Her fingers twitched weakly against his sleeve.
"The Queen," she murmured.
Jin Wei stiffened instantly.
"What did she do?"
Her head throbbed again, but this time she pushed through it.
"She poisoned me," Xueyi said quietly. "She… wanted me to know why."
Jin Wei's jaw clenched so hard she could hear his teeth grind.
He lowered his forehead to hers, eyes closed, breathing controlled with effort.
"I should have been there," he said.
Xueyi shook her head weakly. "She planned it. You couldn't have stopped it."
He didn't answer.
But the hand resting on her back tightened—protective, furious, restrained by will alone.
Outside the room, the palace remained silent.
Inside, something had shifted.
The Queen's lesson had begun—
—but Jin Wei had just woken up too.
Jin Wei did not pull away immediately.
Only when he felt her breathing steady—only when he was sure she was truly awake—did he loosen his arms.
"You need to rest," he said quietly, his voice already locked back behind discipline. "The physicians said the poison was mild, but its aftereffects linger."
Xueyi nodded faintly.
"We'll talk later," he added. "When your head is clearer."
Before she could protest, he gently tugged the blanket higher around her shoulders, his movements careful, practiced—like someone afraid even touch could hurt.
"I'll be nearby," he said.
Then he stood.
He hesitated for a fraction of a second, as if wanting to say something else—but didn't. The door closed softly behind him.
The room fell silent.
Only then did everything come rushing back.
The tea.
The Queen's smile.
Her words.
*I killed her.*
Xueyi's fingers curled into the sheets.
*No…*
Her breath grew shallow as realization settled like ice in her chest.
*The Queen killed Jin Wei's mother.*
The truth landed heavier than the poison ever had.
*No way…*
Her heart pounded painfully.
*I should tell him. I have to tell him—*
The image flashed before her eyes: Jin Wei's calm shattering, that cold fury finally unleashed, his restraint snapping like a blade drawn too far.
*If he knows…*
Her chest tightened.
*If he knows, he will become a villain.*
Not because he was cruel—but because he loved too deeply, protected too fiercely.
And she—
*I married him so he wouldn't walk that path.*
So he wouldn't stain his hands in revenge the way the palace wanted him to.
"No," she whispered hoarsely. "I can't…"
She turned her face toward the pillow, swallowing the ache rising in her throat.
*If I tell him now, blood will follow.*
And then—
Another thought surfaced.
Cold. Unsettling.
Her mother.
The room.
The voice.
*Jiya, wake up.*
Her lashes trembled.
That had felt real.
Too real.
The way the light fell through the window. The sound of her mother's voice—not distant, not blurred, but *present*.
Xueyi lifted a trembling hand and pressed it to her temple.
"Why…" she murmured.
Was it the poison?
A dream born from fear?
Or something else entirely?
Her chest ached—not with pain, but longing.
*Why did it feel like she was really there?*
The thought unsettled her more than the Queen's confession.
Outside Jin Wei's chamber, footsteps moved quietly—physicians, guards, servants.
Inside, Xueyi lay still, staring into the dimness.
The Queen thought the lesson had been taught.
She was wrong.
Because Xueyi had survived—
—and with survival came choices.
Some truths could destroy a kingdom.
Others could destroy the man she loved.
And for now, Xueyi chose silence.