The festival was still ongoing, nearing the end of the year, and it was Mò Lián's birthday.
She was at the Queen's quarters in the royal mansion. The Queen adored her deeply, treating her like a daughter; her presence brightened the halls.
That morning, news reached the Queen — reports about Mò Lián's parents and fragments of her personal story. Quietly, the Queen arranged a surprise gift for her.
Mò Lián was still fast asleep when the Queen entered her chamber. The maids, startled, hurried to wake her, tapping her shoulders gently but urgently.
"My lady, wake up — the Queen is here," one whispered.
Mò Lián stirred slowly. The maid straightened at once, bowing low.
"My Queen," she greeted with a nervous smile.
"Don't strike her again next time," the Queen said softly, pointing at the maid.
"She's still young."
Mò Lián, now half awake, blinked at the sound of the Queen's voice. Her lips parted as she sat up — dazed, blinking like one caught between dreams and morning light.
"Hmmm..."
Her jaw dropped as she saw the Queen, while several maids streamed in, arms laden with boxes of various sizes. The Queen smiled warmly, taking a seat beside her.
"How was your night, my daughter? Are you well?"
She reached forward, brushing a loose strand of hair from Mò Lián's cheek.
"You look radiant, my dear."
Mò Lián's face glowed with shy happiness.
"My Queen..." she stammered, glancing around. "The maids are still bringing in boxes. This is too much!"
The Queen laughed softly, her heart swelling with emotion. The way Mò Lián spoke — her innocence, her grace — filled her chest with warmth. Tears welled in her eyes, sliding down her cheeks even as she smiled.
Mò Lián, seeing the tears, froze in confusion.
"My Queen, why are you crying?"
She leaned closer, wiping the tears gently with her thumb.
"My father always told me," she whispered, 'Value what you have before you lose it — for once lost, you may never want it the same again.'
She paused, then smiled faintly.
"Today, my father lost what was most precious to him — and yet, he gained something he now cherishes."
The Queen's breath trembled; she drew Mò Lián into an embrace.
Around them, the maids exchanged glances, surprised yet moved by the tenderness of the scene.
"You are such a wise girl," the Queen said at last, straightening her posture. "How are your parents?"
Mò Lián smiled.
"My father is a busy man — he never rests, even during the festival. But I'll work hard to help him. He means everything to me."
The Queen studied her. There was something different about this girl — her composure, her spirit. No one in the palace ever dared to meet the Queen's eyes directly, yet Mò Lián always did, unflinching and pure.
"What about your mother?" the Queen asked gently, though she already knew the truth.
Mò Lián lowered her gaze.
"I don't know her... I don't even know what she looks like."
The Queen's heart ached. She knew too well the sorrow of growing up without a mother's warmth.
"Mò Lián..." she whispered.
Mò Lián looked up, her eyes dim with longing. The Queen reached out, holding her hand in quiet comfort. The room fell silent.
Soon after, Mò Lián refreshed herself. The Queen, still seated, instructed the maids to dress her "like a princess."
They obeyed at once.
When Mò Lián stepped out of the dressing room, the air itself seemed to brighten — her beauty shone, her fragrance lingered. The Queen's eyes widened in awe.
Together, they made their way to the main palace. Inside, the King and Crown Prince had already sat with the court elders.
As Mò Lián and the Queen entered, all eyes turned toward them.
"Wow..." some whispered.
When they reached the throne stairs, the Queen gestured for Mò Lián to sit beside her. The King watched them quietly, his expression unreadable.
Across the hall, the Crown Prince sat stiffly, fighting the storm within him. But then — without warning — a wave of calm swept through his chest. His vision blurred, and his consciousness drifted away.
He was no longer in the hall.
In the spirit realm, he found himself standing in a wide field surrounded by towering trees, their leaves whispering like ancient voices. There, among the tall grass, was Mò Lián — her laughter light and unguarded as she ran barefoot beneath the golden haze of sunlight. She didn't see him.
A faint smile curved his lips.
He lifted his hand, reaching toward her — but before his fingers could touch the surrounding air, a sudden bolt of lightning tore across the sky, striking him squarely in the chest.
He gasped. The vision shattered.
In the next heartbeat, he was back — seated on the throne bench, his breath ragged, his robes damp with sweat. The meeting was already in motion, voices blending in formal tones around him. He blinked, steadying himself, adjusting his robe.
Then it came — faint, yet undeniable.
Her scent.
A delicate fragrance drifted toward him, pulling his thoughts back to the field that only existed within his mind.
He smelled it again — that scent, stronger now. She should be at the Queen's quarter... why is it so strong? He forced his attention back to the chamber as the chief speaker continued.
"My king, your message reached me," the elder intoned, reading from the council papers.
"All preparations are complete. Borders are open to foreign trade; a new garrison has been posted to the south, and operations there are proceeding as planned. The eastern border is quiet now because of the plague, yet bandit activity has risen, reducing the civilian presence in that region. The New Year celebrations are pending your decision on the location. The military has already begun redirecting forces where required."
The King raised a hand; the speaker fell silent. From his throne, the king issued the command in a voice like weathered steel.
"Imprison the commanding general of the eastern region. His execution will be decided later. Purge the eastern border of all liabilities; detain any ranked soldiers found complicit. The council will adjourn until after the New Year celebration. You are dismissed."
Mò Lián sat rigidly, forcing herself not to cry out.
The king's decree echoed in her mind like thunder.
He wants to kill all the weak soldiers? Then what am I still doing here? If he can execute them, who am I to escape the same fate?
Her fingers tightened on her gown. I must leave this palace... Lord, help me. I have no magic—what if the king's wrath turns on me next?
Her thoughts spun wildly until a sound cut through them—her name.
"Mò Lián."
She froze. Her heart stumbled. Slowly, she looked up.
"Oh, no..." she whispered, rising to her feet. Her gaze met the king's—unwavering, unblinking. She wanted to look away, but couldn't.
Across the hall, the crown prince's lips curved into a faint smile as he watched her.
The king, meanwhile, was surprised. Few dared hold his gaze, yet this woman did.
A strange voice echoed within Mò Lián's mind.
Who are you?
She gasped inwardly but couldn't respond.
"Mò Lián," the chief speaker called again, breaking her trance. She blinked and bowed quickly.
"Step forward," he instructed.
She obeyed, moving toward the center of the throne stairs. Remembering her maid's lessons, she knelt and kowtowed deeply, her forehead pressing against the cold floor.
The chief speaker continued, his voice echoing across the chamber.
"The king has chosen to honor you. Your performance stirs the spirits of the ancients. You are granted full access across the kingdom, with free accommodation wherever you go."
The king lifted a hand. The hall fell silent.
"Rise," he said.
Mò Lián grasped her gown delicately and stood, bowing slightly.
"I am inviting you and your troupe to perform at the Sì Tiān Temple," the king declared, signaling for the next matter to begin. "My men will deliver the details." His lips curved into a knowing smile.
The queen turned toward him; her face tightening with disbelief.
The crown prince's pulse surged—his father's tone toward Mò Lián burned like a taunt. He almost rose in anger, but his mother's sharp call stopped him.
"Mò Lián!" the queen said, her eyes warning her son to stay still.
Startled, Mò Lián turned toward the queen, then bowed again. But before she could speak, a new presence entered the air—King Hán Wáng Ān, the foreign king.
He stepped forward, bowing slightly. His eyes lit up as he beheld her.
"How are you, beautiful Phoenix Dancer?" he asked warmly, moving closer. "Are you here to perform?" His hand lifted, almost brushing her cheek.
The crown prince tensed. Rage flashed through his eyes—he nearly moved, but his mother's voice, heavy with command, halted him again.
"Enough, Mò Lián!" the queen called sharply, shifting her glare toward the foreign king before facing the dancer.
Hán Wáng Ān immediately sensed the tension. He chuckled lightly, withdrawing his hand, and walked to take his seat as though nothing had happened.
"The king has already invited you to the New Year's ceremony," the queen said coldly. "You should go and prepare."
Her tone was laced with steel; her smile was thin as a blade.
Mò Lián bowed low and turned to leave. Her heart felt heavy. Why is the queen angry with me?
She walked slowly toward the great doors. As they opened, a gust of wind met her face. She inhaled deeply, her lips parting in a faint smile. For a brief moment, the world outside felt peaceful.
The courtyard was nearly empty—only a few officials lingered in the shade, waiting for an audience with the king.
Mò Lián shut her eyes, and a broad smile bloomed across her face.
Who am I to be honored by the king? She thought. Father, Aunt, Grandpa, Grandma—you'll all be so proud. And Mother... you must be happy too.
She began descending the palace stairs gracefully, her silk hem brushing each step. Then, from a distance, she noticed a familiar figure. Her eyes lit up—it was Li Fuyao.
Her smile widened, and she descended faster. The moment her feet touched the level floor, she ran toward her.
"Lady Fuyao! I missed you so much!" Mò Lián said, her lips pouting playfully like a child.
Fuyao, who had just been denied an audience with the king, blinked in surprise before smiling warmly. "Mò Lián!" she said, embracing her.
The two women walked side by side toward the queen's quarters. Their laughter echoed softly along the marble corridor until Mò Lián broke the silence first.
"My lady, how is Huā Yuán?" she asked, remembering their last night of gossip.
Fuyao sighed. "Huā Yuán was moved to another quarter. The maid chief reshuffled all palace servants. I don't know where she's been sent. I heard all foreign citizens are with the royal officer."
Mò Lián's smile faded. She nodded quietly, taking a slow breath as the two continued down the long hallway.
Sensing her unease, Fuyao tried to lighten the mood.
"Do you like the Queen? I heard she treats you as her own daughter."
Mò Lián turned to her, her face softening.
"Yes... The queen is wonderful. She's gentle, and she always wants to spend time with me."
Fuyao smiled, about to tease her, but Mò Lián spoke again—this time, her tone uncertain.
"Today, the king invited me to perform at Sì Tiān temple for the New Year celebration," she said softly, glancing at Fuyao. "But... it seemed like the queen wasn't happy about it."
Fuyao froze mid-step.
"The king did what?" she whispered.
Mò Lián blinked, confused. "Is something wrong? He said He already sent his men."
Fuyao's eyes widened in horror. "Ah!" she nearly screamed before lowering her voice.
Mò Lián clutched her wrist anxiously. "Please don't scare me. I couldn't refuse his command."
Fuyao leaned closer, her voice trembling. "Mò Lián... your life is in danger."
Mò Lián stared at her, stunned. "What? Why would—?"
Fuyao's face darkened as she remembered her father's death—the day he defied the king, he was poisoned. She inhaled sharply. "I'll explain later," she said firmly, scanning the surrounding corridor. "This palace is not safe for you."
Her words sent a chill through Mò Lián's spine. Without another question, she followed Fuyao in silence.
At the palace, the kings had just concluded their meeting. King Hán Wáng Ān appeared pleased with the terms that had been set; a faint smile touched his lips as he rose to leave. Yet, as his gaze drifted toward the Crown Prince, something unsettled him.
He's always indifferent... leaves before the meeting even ends. But today, he's calm? Too calm.
A flicker of unease crossed Hán Wáng Ān's eyes.
Could it be... they're plotting something? Do they plan to kill me and seize my kingdom?
He tried to look directly at the Crown Prince, but a strange resistance met his will—like a force pressing against his mind. A dizzying heaviness stirred in him, warning that if he persisted, he might lose consciousness.
King Tiān Lóngxuān noticed his guest faltering. "Your chariot is ready, King Hán," he said evenly. "If you wish to attend the celebration, you may begin your journey."
Hán Wáng Ān forced a polite smile and nodded. He turned, his steps measured but uneasy. Stories of Huǒyuán kings filled his mind—stories of their cruelty, their wrath when challenged. His chest tightened as he reached the great palace doors.
Behind him, King Tiān's voice rose, low and stern.
"Tiān Jùn," he said sharply, turning toward his son. "I have given you time—too much time—yet you still hesitate. I've already taken my step, and there will be no turning back."
King Hán Wáng Ān froze mid-step as the heavy doors opened. The words echoed behind him. He stepped into the open air, exhaling shakily.
Inside the hall, the Crown Prince smirked faintly, his gaze fixed on his own palm. "Father, I have done as you instructed," he murmured. "But my inner power keeps growing... no human should ever witness such a side of me."
He remembered Mò Lián—the fear in her eyes that night when the demon attacked. The memory lingered like a wound that refused to close.
The queen sat silent beside them, her heart heavy. She could not find the words to comfort her son.