The man's low voice brushed against her ear, and her whole body seized.
She had told herself a thousand times. She was reborn. She knew the future. She could change it. He couldn't hurt her anymore. Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid.
But just hearing his voice again dragged her back to those endless, hellish nights.
His weight pinning her to the bed. His fingers around her throat. Her dignity peeled away, inch by inch, and ground beneath his heel.
"Say you love me, Jing. Say I'm the only one."
That same low voice, pulling her down into the abyss.
Wu Qi turned. The girl before him was drenched and trembling, her small frame swallowed by his own cloak like a child wearing a grown man's coat. Those enormous eyes glistened with unshed tears—eyes that should have been clear and innocent, yet held a complexity that startled him. Fear. Hatred. And something else he could not name.
His heart lurched. Blood rushed hot through his veins. Every rehearsed line dried up on his tongue.
Silence stretched between them.
Su Jing was the first to recover.
"Thank you for your kindness, General. But if someone were to see us, it would start rumors. I'd hate to damage your reputation."
* * *
She stepped back, reaching to remove the cloak.
Wu Qi's hand shot out reflexively and closed around her wrist. Her skin was ice-cold. Her fingers trembled beneath his grip.
"Forgive me—I overstepped." He released her the instant he realized what he'd done.
"It's nothing." Su Jing offered a mild smile and tucked both hands behind her back.
That brief touch alone had sent something crawling through her—revulsion, vine-like, threading through every nerve.
"What happened to your gown, Your Highness? Are you alright?"
Su Jing bit down on a sneer. Quite the actor. As if you don't already know.
"Nothing, really. Just a small accident…"
"Then why were you crying?"
Wu Qi's voice softened.
"It's the Mid-Autumn Festival. I was thinking of my mother."
Su Jing lowered her head, every inch the fragile, pitiable girl.
"And my grandparents—I miss them terribly. They wrote to Mother once, saying they wanted to see what I looked like with their own eyes."
* * *
Wu Qi's pulse quickened. Her grandfather—the King of Nanjiang.
The lion of the southern steppe, coiled in patience, waiting to strike.
If he could secure the Southern Border King's support, the throne would fall into his lap.
This Princess Cheng'an was a beautiful move on the board indeed.
His gaze on Su Jing grew hotter. She was no longer just a move on the board—she was the board itself, and he intended to own every square.
"Has Your Highness ever heard of Jiayuan Temple, on the southern mountain?"
"I have, a little. They say it's a fine place for prayers and blessings." Su Jing nodded.
"The eighth of next month is an auspicious day. If Your Highness wished to honor your mother's memory, you could pray for her there. I'm sure she would be pleased, even in the next world." Wu Qi's expression was earnest, every line of his face the portrait of sincerity.
"Truly? Then I shall wear Mother's favorite blue gown." Su Jing beamed, eyes bright as crescent moons—pure, artless joy.
Wu Qi studied her, this picture of guileless innocence, and decided the strange darkness he had glimpsed in her eyes just moments ago had been nothing but his imagination.
That's more like it. No one escapes a trap I've set.
The unfamiliar maid reappeared on cue, and Su Jing bid Wu Qi a polite farewell.
The instant she turned away, the smile dropped from her face. She exhaled, long and shaking.
It's nothing. It's nothing. That was a different life… She repeated it, over and over, like a prayer.
If her plan worked, this would be the last time she ever saw him.
* * *
"Your Highness, let me take you to change…"
"No need. The banquet is nearly over. I'm going straight back."
Su Jing's feet carried her faster than her thoughts. Every step pulled her toward one place, one person.
A warm amber glow filled the small palace. Shen Yuan dozed against the writing desk. At the sound of a familiar step, his eyes flew open and he pushed the door wide.
"I'm home!" Su Jing crashed into him, full force. He stumbled back—and then noticed the wreckage of her gown.
"Your Highness, what happened? Who did this? Are you hurt?" His voice sharpened with urgency.
"It's nothing, nothing—just a bit of spilled wine, that's all. Besides, Brother Shen, I pulled off something wonderful tonight. I'm so happy…"
Her eyes sparkled. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and she swayed on her feet like a drunk, climbing onto the bed and burrowing into the covers.
So just the smell of grape wine was enough to make her tipsy? Hopeless. The thought drifted through her mind, hazy, and then sleep took her.
* * *
The softness left Shen Yuan's face. He stepped outside and blew a silver whistle that hung beneath his collar.
In an instant, a shadow guard disguised as a palace attendant materialized from the dark.
The Shen clan had been stripped of every rank, but the palace was still riddled with loyalists from the old days.
"What are your orders, Young Master?"
"Find out who Princess Cheng'an saw at the banquet tonight. Everything that happened—do not miss a single detail."
Shen Yuan's gaze could have drawn blood.
"Whoever humiliated her, I will repay it a thousandfold."
Half an hour later, the shadow guard returned and recounted every moment of the Mid-Autumn banquet, word by word.
"On her way to change, the princess encountered General Wu Qi. The two spoke at length and appeared to enjoy each other's company. Afterward, she returned here."
"And Baoyin?" Shen Yuan's voice dropped. His expression was swallowed by shadow, unreadable.
"Shorthanded—she was pulled away by a senior maid to help prepare tea. Nothing suspicious so far."
* * *
"Keep digging. Focus on this General Wu. Background, character, conduct—leave nothing untouched."
"Understood." The shadow guard bowed and dissolved into the night.
Shen Yuan stood motionless in the cold wind, as though he could no longer feel it.
So the day has come at last.
The princess has found someone she cares for.
As if drawn by an invisible thread, Shen Yuan walked into her bedchamber and knelt silently beside the bed, watching her sleeping face.
She's so beautiful. She deserves the finest man in the world.
A bitter smile crossed his lips.
Not someone like him. Not even a man at all.
He had heard of General Wu Qi—heir to a military family, young yet already decorated with battlefield honors.
* * *
Could he be the right man for the princess?
The thought gnawed deeper the longer Shen Yuan dwelt on it. The girl who had reached into the mud and pulled him out—was she about to walk away from him, too?
No more saving half an osmanthus cake for him. No more bouncing through the door calling "I'm home!"
No more Brother Shen, spoken sweet as honey.
He would be alone again.
Shen Yuan lowered his head, lips hovering a breath above the sleeping girl's forehead.
Let me be selfish just once. Just this once.
At the last instant, the cool weight of his own ruined body pressed back into his awareness. He pulled away.
He wasn't worthy. Even a single kiss would stain her.
He laughed at himself, hollow and silent.
* * *
Half-asleep, Su Jing's mind slipped back into the other life.
The moment she lost her usefulness, Wu Qi tore off every gentle pretense.
He chained her ankle with silver links, the way one shackles a prisoner, and sealed her inside the bedchamber.
She became his plaything. His slave. His possession.
When his mood was good, he held her, kissed her, murmured sweet lies into her ear—even though she lay rigid and mute, a corpse with a pulse.
But the instant she looked at him with disgust, the instant she defied him in even the smallest way, his rage exploded. He would punish her until she sobbed, begged, and swore she would never leave.
He would trace his calloused fingers along the fragile curve of her throat and whisper against her skin:
"Your grandfather disowned you, Jing. Your father doesn't want you. There is no one left but me. I am the only one who loves you."
Every day was a nightmare she could never wake from.
Su Jing's brow furrowed tight. Sweat plastered the hair to her temples. She muttered in her sleep, broken words tangled with pain.
"Your Highness, wake up—are you having another nightmare?"
"Your Highness?"
A clear, young voice pulled her out of hell.
Her eyes opened. Shen Yuan knelt beside the bed, worry carved into every line of his face.
* * *
The last wall inside her crumbled. Su Jing threw her arms around him, buried her face in his shoulder, and sobbed.
"I'm so scared…"
Tears soaked through the fabric of his robe. Shen Yuan let out a helpless little laugh, one hand patting her back in gentle, steady rhythm.
"It's alright. It's alright. Dreams always mean the opposite. I'm right here with you."
A long time passed before the nightmare released its hold. Her crying tapered off into hiccups, then silence.
"I got your clothes all wet." She peered up at him with swollen, guilty eyes, sniffling, her cheeks blotchy and red.
How can the princess be this adorable?
The corner of Shen Yuan's mouth lifted. He picked up a handkerchief and dabbed the tears from her face with infinite care.
"It's nothing at all. I don't mind in the slightest."
In truth, his heart was singing.
He was already planning to never wear this robe again—to fold it away and keep it forever.
Because it held the scent of her.