A sharp pain bloomed in the back of Song Rui's head as she stirred awake. The world around her felt distorted as if she were floating between dreams and reality. Her senses swam—smells, sights, and sounds pulling her in different directions. The thick scent of incense and candle wax clung to the air, a far cry from the metallic tang of city streets she was accustomed to. It was as though she'd stepped into another world entirely.
Something was off.
Her body felt heavy, weighed down by thick, luxurious fabric that clung to her skin in unfamiliar ways. The texture was too rich, too fine—far beyond anything she owned or had ever worn. She tried to lift her hand, to push herself up from the soft, silky bed beneath her, but—
Clink.
Her wrist jerked to a stop.
Chains.
Her breath hitched, panic surging through her veins like a surge of electricity. She tugged again, but the chains held firm. They weren't harsh, but they were unyielding, a constant reminder of her predicament.
Song Rui's eyes shot open, the unfamiliar room around her coming into focus. Her gaze darted from the fine, ornate furniture to the towering windows draped in rich curtains. Everything was opulent, a dream of gold and crimson. She was lying on a bed draped in silken sheets embroidered with golden dragons. The very air seemed to hum with otherworldly energy, and the lanterns cast an eerie glow that flickered and danced in the dim room.
Her breath caught in her throat as she realized she was not alone. A group of palace maids stood at a respectful distance, their eyes cast downward, their hands clasped in front of them in perfect obedience. They were dressed in plain robes, their demeanor strangely respectful—almost fearful—as they stood silently in the shadows.
Her heart pounded in her chest, the beats heavy and erratic.
"Where am I?" Her voice was softer than she expected, too fragile, almost fragile. The words escaped her mouth like a whisper from someone else.
She tried to sit up, but the weight of the dress pinned her down, its fabric too much for her frail body to bear. She looked down and—
A wedding dress.
The deep red silk shimmered under the dim lantern light, a striking contrast to the pale skin of her hands. The embroidery was intricate, gold threads weaving through the fabric in delicate patterns, almost as if telling a story all their own. Heavy jewelry weighed against her throat, the cold metal biting into her skin as if mocking her.
She twisted her wrists, desperately trying to move, only to feel the unrelenting chains once more. The golden chains wrapped around her arms like some cruel mockery of royal adornments, tight but not painful—just a constant reminder that she was not in control. Not of her body. Not of her fate.
"No," she breathed. "No, no, no."
Her breath quickened, the panic rising like a tide inside her chest. She reached up, trembling, touching her face, her fingers brushing unfamiliar cheekbones, tracing lips that felt strange, too delicate. Her mind screamed in denial as she ran her fingers through her hair—long, ink-black strands that glistened under the light. The feeling of the smooth braids woven through the strands felt alien.
Her gaze darted around, her heart hammering in her chest as she searched for some sign of what was happening, something that might explain this madness. Her eyes landed on a large, tall mirror standing near the edge of the room, its bronze frame gleaming in the dim light. The reflection she saw made her blood run cold.
She saw the golden headpiece on her head, its intricate design catching the light like a crown. She saw the delicate braids in her hair, the flawless porcelain of her skin, the soft yet sharp features of the face staring back at her. A regal presence emanated from her reflection, a woman who held power but had no control over it.
And then, she saw the eyes.
The eyes that were not hers.
Her heart lurched in her chest.
This was not her face.
This was Li Yue's face.
Her mind reeled, her pulse quickening. She was in Li Yue's body. Li Yue—the war-torn princess. The one who was to marry Warlord Feng Xuan to secure peace. The very princess whose life had been mapped out for her long before she could have a say.
"No. This can't be happening," she whispered, her voice too soft, too elegant, too foreign.
The maids flinched as her voice trembled in the air. The sound was strange to her ears, the words coming from a mouth that wasn't her own.
"What's happening?" she demanded, her voice shaky but firm. "Where am I?"
The maids exchanged uneasy glances, their faces pale as their eyes darted between each other. One of them stepped forward, hesitantly lowering her head, her hands clasped together in front of her chest. "Your Highness... Are you unwell?" she asked softly, her voice filled with caution as if the wrong answer might bring wrath.
Your Highness.
The words froze Song Rui in place, the icy grip of fear sinking deep into her bones. She wasn't just trapped in someone else's body. She wasn't just caught in a different time.
She was Li Yue—the war-torn princess.
She was in a world she didn't belong to.
And she was moments away from becoming a political pawn.
She had read about Li Yue, of course. Everyone knew the story. A woman born into a legacy of war and tragedy, forced to marry Feng Xuan, the ruthless warlord, to secure peace between the kingdoms. The history books were filled with the sorrow and bitterness of that marriage, a fate that bound her to a man who was nothing short of a conqueror.
She wasn't just stuck in Li Yue's body—she was trapped in Li Yue's fate. And from what she remembered, that fate was nothing short of ruin.
Her breath hitched as the weight of it all settled in. The realization was suffocating. She wasn't just a stranger in this world—she was Li Yue, the woman meant to be wed to Feng Xuan. A woman with no choice, no voice, no way to escape the chains that held her—both literally and figuratively.