It was already mid-afternoon. The royal palace stood eerily quiet — the usual rhythm of footsteps, scrolls, and discussions had faded into a heavy stillness.
The meetings that should have filled the day were postponed, their urgency replaced by a strange, invisible tension that hung in the halls like fog.
King Hán Wáng Ān stepped out of the grand palace gates, his robes fluttering softly in the cool wind. His expression was calm, but his thoughts were a storm. He had survived countless councils, faced kings and traitors alike, yet the icy silence of this land unsettled him more than any battlefield ever had.
As he crossed the courtyard, his personal soldiers approached swiftly. Their faces betrayed unease, and before they could even bow, the leading guard spoke in haste.
"My lord, a message from the king of Huǒyuán. He has sent his men to escort you to the Western New Year celebration. No specific location was given."
The words struck like an arrow through his chest.
No distinct location?
That was no escort—it was a leash.
Han Wáng Ān's brow furrowed.
"I see," he whispered, his tone unreadable. After a long pause, he gave a reassuring nod to his men. "Let's go. There are things to prepare."
He turned away, his cloak trailing across the stones like a shadow as he made his way toward his guest's mansion — his soldiers following in silence, their hands never leaving their blades.
Back in the King's Palace, thunder rolled through the air—not from the sky, but from the wrath of King Tiān Lóngxuān.
Moments earlier, he had vanished from the council chamber in a fury, his robes flaring like fire. Now, the queen sat alone, her hands trembling slightly as she rose from her seat. She could feel the lingering echo of his power in the room—hot, volatile, consuming.
Her heart raced. Something was shifting.
Something dangerous.
She turned toward her son.
When she saw Tiān Jùn, her breath caught. His energy was spiraling out of control again, the power within him rippling through the air like a living storm.
The floor beneath him faintly vibrated, and the surrounding space shimmered.
"Jùn..." she called softly, stepping closer.
"My son, I know you're suffering... and I cannot take away your burden."
Her voice was calm, but her heart was breaking.
He didn't answer. His face was hidden beneath the faint glow of his aura, his features blurred as though the light itself refused to reveal him.
"Jùn..." she tried again, her voice trembling, "I will always be here."
She turned to leave, tears pricking the corners of her eyes—but then, his voice broke through the air.
"Mother!"
Her steps halted. Slowly, she turned.
The surrounding light flickered—then dimmed. And there he was. Her son, standing before her, his face clear again.
For a moment, the Queen forgot the burden of crowns. Her heart melted as she hurried toward him, and when his arms wrapped around her, she felt the boy she once held beneath the same skies years ago.
"Mum," he whispered, "I missed you. But I couldn't come to see you... not like this."
He tightened his hold, burying his face against her shoulder.
"My power—it's changing. I don't want you to see what I'm becoming."
Her fingers brushed through his hair.
"My son... you've been carrying so much alone."
She tried to speak calmly, but her voice cracked. Then she laughed, the sound full of warmth.
"You're taller now. My Jùn has become a man."
He smiled faintly, lowering himself so she could see him properly.
"It's been a while, Mum. You seem weaker... are you growing old or just tired?"
He teased, his tone soft.
She patted his arm.
"You've grown heavier—that's all," she said, laughing. But her laughter wavered when she saw the strain in his eyes.
She reached for his hand. "I know you've been without guidance. That loneliness eats at you, doesn't it? But, my son..." She paused, a mysterious smile softening her features. "I have something for you."
He frowned slightly. "A gift?"
"Yes," she said, eyes gleaming.
"Something I found long ago. Precious... and meant only for you."
He sighed, shaking his head gently.
"Mum, I have things to handle today. You always try to spoil me."
Her laughter rang like bells.
"Maybe I do. But you still need to rest. Promise me you'll visit soon, Jùn. You've been fighting your battles alone for too long."
He smiled—a true smile this time—and squeezed her hand. "I promise."
She nodded, her eyes misting again. Then, with a graceful turn, she began to step back. Her form shimmered faintly, her gown glowing with silver light.
"Recover first, my son," she whispered as her body began to dissolve into air.
"Then come to me. I'll be waiting—with your gift."
And just like that—she was gone.
Tiān Jùn stood alone in the vast, quiet chamber, his mother's scent still lingering faintly in the air.
At the king's mansion.
The eunuch on duty brought in royal foreign maids. The king was feeling weak and needed assistance with things.
The king sat in his inner court, a curtain dividing where he was from where maids could enter.
An eunuch entered, kowtowed, and then stood up. "My lord, I brought the foreign maids."
The king waved his hand, and the eunuch turned to the soldier waiting for command.
"Bring them in."
Immediately, five maids entered. They walked in as trained, and together they kowtowed; they remained on the floor.
The eunuch continued.
"Introduce yourselves," he said, weaving his hands in the timid air.
The maids rose, facing the floor.
Before the first maid could talk, she fell to her knees, shrinking.
The maids were all ready not to shake if they were to be in the king's court; else, he might use you for something more important.
The remaining four started introducing themselves.
The first maid kowtowed and started.
"Your Majesty, it's an honor to serve you." She said, maintaining the posture on the floor.
They all did the same, and the king stood up. The air immediately became rough and intoxicating. His foot barely made a sound.
The eunuch faces downward, noticing the king's mood.
Fear crept in, and suddenly, two maids fell dead, and the remaining two were still on the floor.
The eunuch smirked, the king waved his hands, and the eunuch left the room.
The door clicked, bolted.
"Raise," he said, sitting on a seat. The maids stood up, and they faced the floor.
One maid could not hold her fear anymore, sweet, filled her she was shivering. She slowly slumbers and breaks her neck. The last maid stood still, waiting for an instruction.
"Seems you were well trained," the king said, waving for her to join him at the table.
She noticed and adjusted, pouring the boiling tea into his golden cup.
"Sit," he commanded.
She obeyed, squatting on the floor.
"Give me your details," the king said, picking up his cup.
She took a deep breath before continuing.
"I'm Huā Yuán, Lady Li Fuyao's royal maid. Born in the year Xiaoshu."
She was at a loss for words; she squeezed her finger.
"Good. Leave."
She stood up, bowing low.
She walked out of the room, barely breathing. As the corridor breeze blew, she huffed.
Two eunuchs entered the room while a soldier led her out to her new room.
The soldier walked in front; she followed, looking at his armor. At the end of the corridor, the soldier opened a door. He bowed as she walked in; he stood at the door.
She noticed the formalities and bowed to him.
He bowed again; he straightened up and saw she wanted to bow again.
"Know my lady, I'm your personal soldier. What can I do for you?" he said, still standing at the door.
She stared at him with curiosity.
Outside the palace.
The streets boomed with laughter and the fragrant scent of flour and candied syrup. The Lunar Festival was at its peak — stalls glowed with colorful ribbon, and children ran barefoot through the lantern-lit lanes.
Lord Chen walked through the busy street with his luggage balanced on one shoulder, a bright smile lighting his face.
He passed a candy shop, and the familiar sound of a little girl's laughter echoed in his mind. His steps faltered.
Slowly, he turned back, placing his luggage on the shop's vacant wooden seat.
"Brother, for the New Year's blessing, I made something special!" said the candy maker, pulling out sugar shapes in different forms.
Lord Chen nodded, eyes softening.
"You're the best, truly. My daughter loves candy — especially the ones shaped like the moon."
His voice trembled slightly as he waved for the candy maker to bring out his finest.
The man chuckled, dipping a thin stick into molten sugar.
"Your daughter must be a sweet soul. How old is she now?"
Lord Chen's laugh was full and warm.
"She's twenty-two today. It's her birthday — and I wanted to surprise her with her favorite treat."
He couldn't help the fond smile that spread across his face.
The candy maker joined in his laughter.
"Twenty-two and still wants sugar sweets? She must be really very precious."
"She is," Lord Chen said softly. "And I'll give her everything she desires."
The candy was finished — glimmering golden beneath the sunlight. Lord Chen paid with a small pouch of coins, taking the candy with both hands as if it were fragile glass.
Then, with one hand holding his luggage and the other cradling the candy stick, he made his way toward his lodgings.
When he reached the familiar wooden door, a flood of warmth filled his chest.
"I missed you," he murmured, running his fingers over the handle. He tried pushing it open, but the door refused to budge. He frowned, then pushed harder.
From down the corridor, a voice snapped, "Who's trying to break into my property?"
The innkeeper — a stout woman with a sharp tongue — hurried toward the noise. When she recognized him, her expression brightened.
"Lord Chen...!" she gasped.
He smiled in return, but before he could speak, she continued breathlessly, "Not long ago, your sister and your in-laws arrived! Here's your key."
She fished it out of her pouch, pressing it into his hand.
"They went to the market to fetch some things," she added with a wink. Then, noticing the candy in his grasp, she smirked.
"She's in the palace now — do you think she still cares for that sugary nonsense? Anyway, welcome back, my tycoon lord."
Her words lingered in the air long after she waddled away.
Inside, Chen Rong and her in-laws sat on the balcony, basking in the cool evening breeze. Their laughter spilled through the room as Chen Rong retold stories from the palace.
"Imagine Yù Xuān acting as a maid in the imperial quarters!" she laughed, nearly spilling her tea. "That girl is bold enough to face anyone."
Her in-laws joined in the laughter. "Youth are fearless," Mò Lián's grandmother added, shaking her head with amusement.
"Let's only pray they don't learn their lessons the hard way."
Just then, a creak from the main door.
The laughter faded. Chen Rong crept toward the kitchen, grabbing an unused firewood stick. They followed closely, picking up a ladle as a weapon.
"It could just be the neighbors," the granny whispered. "The innkeeper wouldn't dare intrude — not after the favor she owes us."
But before they could move, the door swung open.
Lord Chen stood in the doorway, frozen in surprise as his eyes met the familiar faces. His luggage slid off his shoulder with a soft thud.
Chen Rong didn't recognize him at first — she charged forward, firewood raised.
"You thief!" she shouted.
He blinked, stepping back.
"Ouch...!" she stumbled, realizing who it was, and laughter burst from her lips as they collided in a brief, clumsy embrace.
"When did you arrive?" she asked, dropping her stick to the floor.
Her in-laws came forward, smiling warmly.
"My son," his mother-in-law said, voice trembling with joy. "How wonderful to see you. How was your journey?"
Lord Chen's heart softened as he looked at them — at the home he'd missed, the warmth he had longed for.
He smiled gently, still clutching the candy in his hand.
"I brought something sweet," he said quietly.
And for a moment, the house was filled again with laughter
The queen's quarters were still and silent.
Mò Lián rolled restlessly across her bed, Lady Fuyao's words replaying in her mind like an echo she couldn't escape. Her maid stood quietly nearby, too afraid to speak, waiting for a command that never came.
Finally, Mò Lián sat up—then sank back down with a sigh.
"What have I brought upon myself?" she whispered.
A knock was heard at the door.
Her maid turned immediately, but Mò Lián raised a trembling hand.
"Wait... I'll open it."
"Yes, my lady," the maid replied, stepping back.
Mò Lián pushed herself from the bed, her lips nervously pressed together. When she opened the door, her breath caught.
It was him—her Jùn.
He stepped inside, calm and unreadable, while she instinctively retreated. Her eyes locked on his, step by step, until reality struck her. She spun, intending to flee to her bed, but he caught her wrist and pulled her against him.
The air thickened.
The maid, sensing a royal presence, dropped to her knees and kowtowed.
"Jùn... let me go," Mò Lián gasped, struggling, but his arms were too strong.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, loosening his hold slightly.
At the sound of her calling his name, the maid's head snapped up. Her body trembled.
"Which Jùn...? Does she mean His Majesty—the Crown Prince?" she whispered in disbelief.
The realization hit her like lightning. The sheer force of his aura crushed the surrounding air. She coughed up blood and collapsed, motionless.
Mò Lián pushed him away instantly and rushed to her side.
"Hey! Wake up!" she cried, shaking her maid's shoulders, but the girl was already unconscious.
Panic seized her. She bolted into the corridor.
"Someone—help, please!"
The palace was unusually empty. No guards. No sound.
She sprinted toward the queen's mansion, and near the pool, she spotted a lone figure standing by the water.
"Please! Can you hear me? My maid just passed out!" she called, panting.
The air shifted—cold, heavy, unnatural. Her voice died in her throat.
"Hello...?" she whispered, stepping closer.
In the blink of an eye, the figure turned.
It was him—but not as before. The Crown Prince stood before her in his true form. His aura shimmered like dark fire; though restrained, its weight bent the air itself.
He appeared before her instantly, and she froze, powerless.
He touched her chin, his fingers burning but not hurting her. His eyes—deep crimson—met hers, calm yet tormented.
"Why did I choose you?" His voice was low and ragged. "Stop running... I am in your future."
Her breath trembled. When he dropped his gaze, struggling for control, she moved without thinking.
Mò Lián wrapped her arms around him and held him close, her palm patting his back gently.
"Don't ever lie to me," she whispered, her voice shaking.
"Even if the truth would kill me."
He froze.
"My people never accepted me as human," she went on, her words soft but sharp.
"I knew from the first moment when we met that you were not ordinary. I saw it when you fought the ghost that night. I told you all my secrets, Jùn—but you never told me your full name. If you ever lie to me again... I will burn you."
She pulled back, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears.
He stood silently, his energy dimming.
"Look at me," she said, cupping his face with both hands.
His crimson irises shimmered faintly. Her lips curved into a fragile smile.
But then she whispered, "We can't be together."
He flinched; the color drained from his eyes. "Why?" His voice was barely a whisper.
"I don't have a reason," she said, stepping back slowly.
"We're no longer friends, Jùn. You're a royal liar, and I'm nothing in your world."
She took another step back.
"Don't look for me. I don't like you anymore, Your Majesty."
And before he could move, she turned and ran.
He stood still, watching her disappear into the distance. The silence swallowed his voice when he finally spoke:
"Mò Lián...!"