The war meeting had just ended.
Scrolls were being gathered, soldiers dismissed, and ministers filtered out of the grand strategy hall one by one. Yet Feng Xuan remained seated, fingers drumming lightly against the dark wood of the table. His eyes were narrowed in thought, not on military routes or border reinforcements—but on a far more perplexing subject.
Li Yue.
Or rather… the person pretending to be her.
For days now, she had been different. Not in any blatant or outwardly disrespectful way—no, she still held her fan with the same practiced grace, still lowered her eyes in the presence of nobles—but beneath that polished surface, she was no longer the same obedient, silent girl who once sat at his side like a decoration.
She watched people now. She listened. Her posture was more alert. Her eyes were sharper.
The other day, she'd asked about the Eastern Court's seal placement during a conversation about defense logistics—something she would never have even pretended to care about before. When he pressed her gently, she feigned innocence, offered a simple smile, and shifted the conversation.
But Feng Xuan was not a man easily fooled.
He leaned back in his seat, hands clasped behind his back, the tension in his shoulders at odds with the languid elegance of his movement. Li Yue had always been compliant, soft-spoken, and distant. She'd never spoken out of turn, never asked questions.
So who was this version of her that now looked guards in the eye, asked servants about routes, and stood just a little straighter—like someone prepared for flight?
Feng Xuan had risen through blood and smoke. He had faced warlords and assassins. He could sense change like the shift in the wind before a storm.
And something about Li Yue had shifted irrevocably.
Later that afternoon, Feng Xuan walked through the imperial gardens, his boots soft against the stone path. His guard remained a respectful distance behind him, their presence more formality than necessity.
He had summoned Li Yue under the pretense of tea.
But in truth, he wanted to observe her.
The koi pond shimmered nearby, its surface disturbed only by the occasional splash of a bright orange fin. The garden, usually peaceful, felt too quiet—almost waiting.
She arrived precisely on time, dressed in soft shades of lavender and silver. Her hair was styled simply, but there was no mistaking the quiet confidence in her walk.
Feng Xuan turned when she approached, studying her carefully. "You seem well-rested today, Princess."
She offered a polite nod. "Your Highness is too kind."
There it was again—that calm, unshakable tone. But her eyes… they were focused. Alert. Watching him with the scrutiny of someone trying to gather data.
Not the same girl.
He motioned to the stone bench near the lotus pavilion. "Sit with me."
She obeyed, posture poised but no longer shrinking like before.
"I heard," he began casually, "that you've taken an interest in the layout of the inner court."
Her gaze didn't falter. "I find the palace intriguing. There is much to learn… for someone who has spent most of her life locked behind palace walls."
He raised a brow. "Is that so? And what else do you find intriguing?"
Li Yue smiled faintly. "The patterns of your soldiers' training. The palace guards rotate shifts more frequently than necessary. Your advisors speak too much in circles. And your tea," she picked up her cup, "is slightly more bitter today."
Silence fell between them like a blade.
Feng Xuan stared at her. "You've changed."
She didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Perhaps I've only… woken up."
Interesting. She wasn't denying it.
The corners of his mouth twitched. "Tell me, Princess. What dreams caused such a sudden awakening?"
She looked toward the garden wall, where the shadows of a passing bird flitted across the stone. "The kind that reminds you life is too short to remain a pawn on someone else's board."
Feng Xuan's smile didn't reach his eyes.
So. She was no longer content to be a pawn.
That night, he summoned his most trusted advisor—Commander Han—to his private quarters.
"I want a report," Feng Xuan said, his voice low but firm. "On everything the Princess has done in the past five days. Every person she's spoken to. Every place she's visited."
Han blinked, then nodded quickly. "Yes, Your Highness."
Feng Xuan sipped his wine, eyes never leaving the candle flame dancing on the table before him. "And I want someone watching her. Quietly. She is not to know."
"You suspect a plot?"
"I suspect she is no longer who she claims to be."
The statement hung in the air like a thundercloud.
What troubled Feng Xuan wasn't the change in behavior alone—it was the intelligence behind it. Li Yue now spoke with the calm precision of a tactician. She moved like someone used to watching from shadows, not from thrones.
She asked questions that only someone from his world of power and danger would dare ask.
And yet, for all his suspicion… he was intrigued.
Who was she?
Could she be an imposter? A spy? A puppet for some hidden faction?
Or worse… something supernatural?
It wouldn't be the first time the court had whispered of strange things—souls reborn, cursed bloodlines, divine retribution.
He didn't believe in ghosts. But he did believe in secrets. And she was full of them.
Feng Xuan leaned against the window, looking out at the moonlit rooftops of the palace.
If she was no longer the girl he once overlooked… then he would no longer overlook her.
Whether she was a threat—or an ally—was yet to be seen.
But she had gained his attention.
And that made her dangerous.