The day the Imperial envoy arrived, the Crimson Court turned into a stage.

Silks in every shade of red hung from the balconies. Servants scattered petals through the halls. Perfume and incense drowned the air until breathing felt like a suggestion. Even the mist seemed as though it had rehearsed.

Kang Ya Zhen stood at the head of the welcoming line, flawless as always, her expression unreadable behind her fan. Ji Ming and I took our places behind her, objective symbols, not people.

A trumpet sounded, nearby.

The chief envoy entered the courtyard, dressed in a cloak embroidered with phoenix feathers lined in gold. His eyes were sharp, his smile practiced, and he moved like someone who had never been denied anything.

“Lady Kang,” he said, voice smooth as oil. “The throne commends your diligence.”

Ya Zhen bowed, and said sweetly, “The honor belongs to the Court.”

“And these,” he said, turning toward us, “are the bonded ones? The miracle that reaches even imperial ears?”

The words drew a hushed ripple through the crowd… curiosity, envy, fear.

Ji Ming bowed stiffly. I followed, keeping my eyes low.

The chief envoy circled us like a collector admiring new curiosities. “Extraordinary,” he murmured. “To think that after a century, Shuangxin breathes again. Tell me, does it hurt?”

His question froze the air.

Ya Zhen’s fan snapped open. “The bond is an alliance of balance, not pain, Your Excellency.”

“Is that so?” His gaze lingered on me, a little too long. “Then perhaps the court should test its strength for the Emperor’s eyes.”

That evening, the banquet began. Golden light poured from the lanterns, turning the air into molten amber. Musicians played soft melodies that didn’t hide the tension.

Lord Wen and the chief envoy sat together, drinking slowly, two predators pretending to share the same kill.

Halfway through the evening, the chief envoy rose and raised his cup. “To harmony,” he said. “And to those who prove it.”

He turned to us. “Step forward.”

The room hushed.

Ya Zhen’s fan did not move, but I saw her knuckles whitened around it.

I obeyed, and Ji Ming followed.

“You will demonstrate the bond,” the chiefmenvoy said. “Let the court see what divine favor looks like.”

Ji Ming’s eyes met mine. “He means the resonance.”

“Yes,” I whispered. “It seems he wants a show.”

There was no choice. As I let my qi rise, slow and measured. Ji Ming mirrored it, his aura flaring silver. When they met, the air between us rippled into a wave of light and sound that shimmered like water and flame.

Gasps rippled through the hall.

The chief envoy smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Beautiful. And volatile.” The last word slipping from his mouth like venom.

Then, as casually as if describing his wine, he said: “Imagine what that could do, focused on an enemy.”

The music stopped. No one breathed.

Later, when the hall emptied, Ya Zhen poured herself wine she didn’t drink, just held as if to protect herself. “He will not leave until he sees what the bond can destroy,” she said. “And when he does, we will be the first to burn.”

Ji Ming looked toward the doors. “Then we will leave before that.”

Ya Zhen’s eyes flicked to him then me. “You can’t run from the Court, White Lotus. But you can hide inside it, at least for a while.”

Outside, fireworks bloomed over the canal; gold and red, bright and hollow. Each one exploded like a promise waiting to break.