The Grand Hall of the imperial palace was a monument to power.
Golden pillars stretched toward a ceiling painted with dragons and phoenixes locked in eternal dance. Crystal lanterns cast warm light over hundreds of nobles dressed in their finest silks. The air smelled of incense, roasted meats, and expensive perfumes, luxury so excessive it felt suffocating.
Lin Qianxue stood at the entrance in a dress the color of fresh blood.
She'd chosen red deliberately. Not the soft pink of modest maidens or the pale rose of gentle nobility. Deep crimson red, the color of revolution, of phoenix fire, of blood spilled and vengeance earned.
The conversation in the hall faltered as she entered.
Every eye turned to assess the Lin family's eldest daughter. The girl who'd tried to commit suicide over a broken engagement. The girl who somehow, impossibly, had caught Prince Shen Jingye's personal attention.
Lin Qianxue held her head high and walked forward with the confidence of a CEO entering a hostile board meeting. Let them stare. Let them whisper. She'd faced down corporate sharks and government regulators. These perfumed nobles were nothing.
Behind her, the rest of the Lin family entered. Her father, still weak but walking with the help of servants. Her mother, Lady Wang, in expensive robes that screamed of borrowed money. And Lin Huiyin, dressed in pure white that made her look like a fairy descended from heaven.
The contrast was deliberate, Lin Qianxue knew. Huiyin in innocent white, the virtuous cousin. Herself in aggressive red, the disturbed, violent daughter.
"Look at her," someone whispered, not quietly enough. "Wearing red like she's the bride. Has she no shame?"
"I heard she attacked her own father."
"And murdered a servant in cold blood!"
"The Prince must have summoned her out of pity. Poor thing is clearly mad."
Lin Qianxue's smile never wavered. Let them think her mad. Mad was unpredictable. Mad was dangerous. Mad kept people off-balance.
They were announced formally: "The Lin family of the merchant class. Lord Lin Zhengde, Lady Wang, Miss Lin Huiyin, and Miss Lin Qianxue."
The herald's voice was neutral, but Lin Qianxue didn't miss how Huiyin's name came before hers despite Huiyin being younger. Another small cut.
They made their way to their assigned seats, far from the imperial table, she noted. Not quite the lowest positions, but close enough to be an insult. The Lin family's fall from grace became physical.
As they settled, Lin Qianxue scanned the room. Hundreds of nobles, all watching. Guards stationed at every entrance. Servants moving through the crowd with wine and delicacies. And at the head of the hall, on a raised dais,
The Emperor, old and weary, sitting on a throne that looked too large for him.
And beside him, standing rather than sitting, Prince Shen Jingye. Dressed in black robes embroidered with silver dragons, he looked like death made beautiful. His eyes swept the crowd with calculated precision, noting everything, missing nothing.
Their gazes met across the hall.
He didn't acknowledge her. Didn't nod or smile or give any indication that he'd personally summoned her. But something flickered in those cold eyes, a warning? A challenge?
"Qianxue." Her mother's sharp whisper drew her attention. "Stop staring at the Prince. You're making a spectacle."
"Everyone's already staring, Mother. At least let them see I'm unafraid."
Lady Wang's face pinched with disapproval. She turned to Huiyin, her voice deliberately loud enough for nearby nobles to hear. "Huiyin, dear, you look absolutely radiant tonight. Like the moon herself has blessed you. Don't you agree, my lord?"
Lin Zhengde, still too weak to fully participate, made a vague sound that could have been agreement.
"Thank you, Aunt," Huiyin said with perfect humility. "Though I'm sure I pale in comparison to the other ladies present. I'm grateful simply to be invited to such a prestigious event."
More nobles turned to look, taking in Huiyin's modest beauty, her graceful demeanor, her perfect manners.
"Such a sweet girl," someone murmured approvingly. "Not like her cousin."
Lady Wang smiled, satisfied. Then she turned that smile on Lin Qianxue, and it turned poisonous. "Qianxue, darling, do try to behave yourself tonight. I know you've been... unwell... but please don't embarrass the family further. We've suffered enough scandal thanks to your actions."
Lin Qianxue felt eyes boring into her from all directions. Nobles leaning in to catch her reaction. Would she cry? Rage? Prove herself as unstable as the rumors claimed?
She smiled instead. Sweet and poisonous as her mother's had been.
"Of course, Mother. I'll be on my absolute best behavior. After all, " she let her gaze drift meaningfully to the Prince, ", we wouldn't want to disappoint our host."
Lady Wang's face went white. The implication was clear: Lin Qianxue had protection now. Imperial protection. And that changed everything.
Before Lady Wang could respond, trumpets sounded. The hall fell silent.
"His Imperial Majesty honors us with his words," the herald announced.
The Emperor stood, though the effort clearly pained him. He began a speech about Prince Shen Jingye's victories in the north, about unity and strength and the glory of the empire.
Lin Qianxue barely listened. She was too busy counting.
Seven assassination attempts, the Prince had said. Seven people would try to kill her tonight.
She scanned faces, looking for hatred, for fear, for anything that screamed "assassin." But everyone looked the same, polite, distant, curious about the scandalous Lin daughter but not overtly hostile.
Which meant the killers were good at hiding.
The speech ended. Servants flooded the hall, placing cups before each guest. Wine for a toast to the Prince's continued success.
Lin Qianxue watched her cup being filled with dark red wine. Watched the servant's hands carefully for any suspicious movement.
Nothing. The pour was clean, professional, identical to everyone else's.
But when she looked down at her cup, the liquid was slightly different. A shade darker. Thicker, maybe? Or was she being paranoid?
The Emperor raised his cup. "To Prince Shen Jingye! May his victories continue!"
"To Prince Shen Jingye!" the hall echoed.
Everyone lifted their cups.
Lin Qianxue hesitated, staring at the liquid. Was it poisoned? Or was she seeing threats where none existed? If she refused to drink, she'd insult the Emperor. But if she drank and it was poison,
A hand reached across the space between tables.
Strong, elegant fingers plucked the cup from her grasp before she could react.
Lin Qianxue's head snapped up.
Prince Shen Jingye stood beside her table, having crossed the hall in silence while everyone's attention was on the Emperor. His cold eyes met hers as he raised her cup to his lips.
The hall went deathly quiet.
"Your wine looked interesting," he said conversationally. "I wanted to try it."
Then he drank.
Every drop.
Lin Qianxue watched his throat work as he swallowed, her heart hammering. If it was poisoned, he'd just…
But Shen Jingye simply lowered the empty cup, his expression unchanged. No gasping. No convulsing. No signs of distress whatsoever.
He set the cup back on her table and turned to address the stunned hall.
"Excellent vintage," he said. "Though perhaps too strong for delicate constitutions. Miss Lin, you should try the lighter wine instead. I'd hate for our guest to suffer a headache on her first night at court."
He gestured, and a servant rushed forward with a different cup. This one clearly from the same bottles as everyone else's.
Lin Qianxue took it with trembling hands. "Thank you, Your Highness."
"Don't thank me yet." His voice dropped so only she could hear, a whisper beneath the resuming noise of the hall. "That was attempt number one. Six more to go."
Then he walked away, leaving her staring at the empty cup that had held poison meant for her.
Poison he'd drunk without hesitation.
Poison that should have killed him but somehow hadn't.
Shen Jingye wasn't just protecting her.
He was immune.