The Northern princess sat in the garden before dawn. Every morning.
Liu Lanzhi sought the bench in the eastern courtyard where no one went. She sat in a stillness that occasionally stretched for hours. Movement was a rarity; she existed as part of the garden's quiet architecture.
The servants talked. The guards talked. The minor officials who passed through the eastern corridor added their own voices to the low hum of speculation.
Questions began to circulate. What was she doing? Why did she seek the dark every morning? Why did the consort sit with the Eleventh Prince, that forgotten child, as if he possessed some inherent value?
The whispers spread through the palace like water through cracked stone.
They say she practices forbidden arts. They say she learned them in the north. They say she is trying to summon something. Or bind something. Or become something.
—
Liu Lanzhi heard the rumors three days after they began.
