Whispers traveled faster than fire in the Crimson Court. By morning, everyone knew that Lady Kang had interrupted the chief envoy’s “divine demonstration”, by noon, her loyalty was already in question.

The Court did not need swords to draw blood; it used etiquette.

At the day’s first assembly, no one spoke her name, but I felt the change like a shift in the wind. Servants bowed a fraction lower to Lord Wen. Letters arrived sealed with unfamiliar wax. Even the musicians' rhythm of their songs was slower and heavier.

Ya Zhen sat through it all like a painted statue. Her smile never faltered, only the tremor of her fan betrayed her.

When the chief envoy entered, silence fell. He didn’t look at her, not at first. Then suddenly, “Lady Kang,” he said pleasantly, “your concern for restraint has touched the Emperor’s heart. He wonders, though, if such restraint might be better used in the border provinces.”

A ripple of shock passed through the hall. Exile.

Ya Zhen bowed gracefully. “If the throne wishes it, I will obey.”

Her voice didn’t waver. But I saw the faint white imprint of her nails pressed into her palm.

After the assembly, she dismissed her attendants and turned to us. “They’re sending me to the border,” she said quietly. “A polite execution.”

Ji Ming’s jaw tightened. “You saved us. We won’t let them—”

“You’ll do nothing,” she interrupted. “If you resist, they’ll chain you to the Emperor’s army instead of this Court.”

She placed her fan on the table. The lacquer was cracked. “I have a week to prepare. You’ll accompany me as an escort.”

“Escort?” I asked.

Her eyes met mine. “Every punishment can be turned into an opportunity.”

That night, I walked around the outer balcony. The canals below were filled with drifting lotus petals from the morning’s offerings. They looked like small white ghosts, floating in circles.

Ji Ming joined me. “She’s planning something.”

“Of course she is.”

He leaned against the railing. “And we’ll be part of it.”

The bond between us pulsed once… quiet agreement, or shared dread.

Somewhere beyond the walls, a bell tolled. The sound was soft, but each note felt like silk tearing, one thread at a time. Each seeming to be a thread of our fate, facing the turmoil to come.