The attempt came at dawn.
Silent. Clean. Professional.
Han Jian sensed it before the blade reached his throat.
The air shifted—too still, too sharp.
He twisted just as the dagger flashed, metal grazing his sleeve instead of skin. The assassin landed lightly, eyes cold, movements trained.
Not palace guard style.
Han Jian smiled.
"So," he murmured, "she hired outsiders."
Steel clashed. The sound was brief, muted by dawn's hush. Han Jian fought without flourish, precise and ruthless, ending it with a sharp strike to the neck.
The body collapsed.
Too easy.
That was when the second wave came.
Arrows sliced through the air, embedding into the pillar behind him. Han Jian leapt, rolling across the tiles as shadows emerged from both ends of the corridor.
This wasn't an assassination.
It was a performance.
By the time guards arrived—conveniently late—Han Jian stood surrounded by bodies, blade dripping red.
The timing was perfect.
"Seize him!" a guard captain shouted.
Han Jian did not resist.
Elsewhere, Zhen Luo was dragged out of morning studies by Feng Huai, who looked pale.
"They moved," Feng Huai said. "And they made it loud."
Zhen Luo arrived to chaos.
Han Jian knelt in chains.
Blood stained the marble.
Officials whispered openly now, shock thinly masking satisfaction.
The Queen's voice cut through the noise. "So this is the Crown Prince's loyal shadow."
Li Shuran stood beside her, eyes wide, trembling convincingly.
"I warned everyone," she whispered. "I feared he was dangerous."
Zhen Luo felt something snap inside him.
"Release him," he said.
The Emperor raised a hand. "You will not interfere."
Zhen Luo stepped forward anyway.
"I will," he said coldly. "Because if he's guilty—then so am I."
The court froze.
Li Shuran's breath caught.
The Queen's eyes sharpened. "Mind your words."
Han Jian finally looked up.
For the first time, uncertainty flickered across his face.
This was not part of the plan.
Meanwhile, in the outer palace, Bai Zehan paced in agitation.
"They're framing him," he hissed. "This was meant to kill him, not expose him."
Luo Xian's expression darkened. "Which means someone panicked."
"Li Shuran?"
"No," Luo Xian said. "Someone above her."
Bai Zehan stopped. "The Queen."
Luo Xian nodded once. "And if Han Jian falls, the Crown Prince follows."
Back in the hall, the Emperor spoke slowly.
"Han Jian will be detained," he declared. "Until the truth is uncovered."
Chains rattled.
Zhen Luo's hands curled into fists.
Han Jian bowed his head.
"Your Majesty," he said calmly, "may I speak?"
The Emperor hesitated, then nodded.
Han Jian lifted his gaze.
"I request an investigation," he said. "Public. Transparent."
Li Shuran stiffened.
"And," Han Jian added gently, "I request Lady Li be questioned as well."
Gasps erupted.
Li Shuran's face drained of color. "That's absurd—!"
Han Jian smiled faintly. "After all," he said, "the assassins carried your family's seal."
Silence crashed down like thunder.
Even the Queen froze.
That night, Han Jian sat alone in a dark cell.
Cold. Quiet.
Footsteps approached.
Zhen Luo stopped outside the bars.
"I didn't plan this," Zhen Luo said hoarsely.
Han Jian looked up at him, eyes calm again.
"I know."
Zhen Luo swallowed. "I'll get you out."
Han Jian's smile was small, dangerous.
"No," he said. "Let them think they've won."
Zhen Luo frowned. "Why?"
"Because," Han Jian whispered, eyes gleaming in the dark,
"now they've stepped onto the board."