I go back to my room as the night falls.
The candles flicker against the walls. The bed's already made, too neatly. A cup of tea sits on the table, still warm.
Chun Tao is by the window, folding fresh robes like she's done it a hundred times before.She glances up when I step in.
"Miss… you're drenched."
"It's nothing," I say, pulling the wet sleeve away from my skin. "Just rain."
Chun Tao's brows knit for a moment, like she wants to say more.
She doesn't.
I sit at my desk. Paper. Brush. Ink.
Chun Tao watches me for a moment. "Miss, it's late. You should rest."
"I will. In a while."
She doesn't move. I can feel her eyes on me.
"What are you going to write?" she asks. "Another letter?"
I pause. The brush hovers over the paper.
"No," I say. "Something else."
She steps closer. Peers at the blank page.
"Is it a secret?"
"Maybe."
"A very important secret?"
I almost smile. "Yes."
She nods slowly. "Then this servant will leave you to it."
She walks toward the door. Stops. Looks back.
"Don't stay up too late, miss."
"I won't."
She leaves. The door closes softly.
I sit there for a moment, staring at the page.
Then I write.
General Zhao. Loyal. Honest. The Empress will have him killed next year. I need to reach him before she does.
Scholar Chen. Brilliant. His essays will be burned. I need to find them first.
Merchant Wang. Rich. He funded the princess's supporters in secret. No one knew until it was too late. I know now.
When I set the brush down, the paper is full. My fingers ache. My eyes burn.
I look at the names.
A small army.
Lives I'm about to pull into something they can't escape.
Whether they want it or not.
I fold the paper carefully. Slide it into my sleeve.
I lean back in my chair. Stare at the ceiling.
Chun Tao peeks in. "You're still awake."
"So are you."
She comes in, swaps the cold tea for a fresh cup. She never once looks at the paper, doesn't ask what I'm doing.
She's good at that. Knowing when to ask and when to stay quiet.
She sets the cup down and stands there for a moment.
"You should sleep," she says.
"I know."
"Tomorrow," I say, "I need to go out."
She doesn't react.
"To the southern district."
Her face tightens. "Miss the southern district is not like the capital. People go missing there and no one asks questions."
"I know."
"You don't know. You've never been."
I look at her. "Then it's time I learned."
She stares at me. I can see her weighing whether to argue.
"You'll get caught," she says finally. "Or worse."
"I won't."
"You don't know that."
I look at her. "I have to try."
She holds my gaze for a long moment. Then she sighs. It's the sigh of someone who has already accepted that she's going to spend the rest of her life worrying about a person who refuses to worry about herself.
"This servant will find you a cloak. And a hat. Something plain."
I smile. "That's not a no."
"It's not a yes either." She picks up the cold cup. "If you're not back by evening, I'm telling the Prime Minister."
"That's fair."
She moves toward the door, then stops.
"What will you do there?"
I think about it. The man from the novel. Old Xu.
He worked in the palace. Served Murong Qian's father. When the old Emperor died, Xu vanished. Everyone thought he went back to his village. But he never left. He's been hiding in the capital all this time, in a tea house no one remembers.
He knows things. Things I already know from the book. But knowing isn't enough. I can't walk into court and say "I read it in a novel." I need proof. I need someone who was there. Someone who saw it happen. Someone the court can't dismiss as a naive girl.
Old Xu is that someone.
I need to find him.
I don't tell Chun Tao any of this. She's already worried enough.
"I need to find someone" I say.
She looks at me like I've lost my mind. "In the southern district?"
"I'll explain when I get back."
"You won't explain at all, will you?"
I smile. "Probably not."
She holds my gaze for a moment. Then she sighs. The kind of sigh that says she's mentally updating her life goals from loyal maid to professional worrier who follows a reckless young miss around.
"This servant is going to have grey hair before she's twenty."
I almost laugh. "I'll find you the best grey hair tonic in the capital."
She stares at me. "Is that a real thing?"
"I don't know. But if it's not, I'll invent it."
She narrows her eyes. "You're making this up."
"Maybe. But you'll still have grey hair, so you'll need something."
She glares at me. Then she shakes her head and mutters something about reckless young misses and early retirement.
I pretend not to hear.
"If you're not back by evening, I'm telling the Prime Minister," she says again.
"I know."
She leaves. The door closes.
I lie back on my bed. Stare at the ceiling.
The paper is in my sleeve. The names are in my head.
Tomorrow, I'll find Old Xu.