Chapter 2: Shadow in the palace?

The Chen estate was unusually quiet that afternoon.

The usual clatter of servants’ footsteps on the flagstones was gone, replaced by the gentle hum of cicadas in the distance. A warm breeze drifted through the inner courtyard, carrying with it the faint scent of plum blossoms from the southern garden.

In the center of the courtyard, Chen Fengying lay sprawled across a wooden bench, entirely unbothered by the sun spilling over her face. She hung upside down, her head dangling just above the cool stone floor, hair brushing against it in loose strands. Her legs swung lazily in the air, one boot slipping halfway off her foot.

She was bored. Dangerously bored.

And boredom, for Fengying, was always the first step toward trouble.

Her eyes traced the clouds drifting above, and she wondered whether sneaking into the western guard post to challenge the night watch would be worth the trouble it might cause.

She could already imagine their startled faces when she disarmed them one by one, a delicious thought that almost convinced her to get up.

Before she could, a shadow detached itself from the far wall. Silent as water, a figure slipped into the courtyard, robes whispering against the ground.

“My lady,” came a low voice.

Fengying tilted her head or rather, from her upside-down vantage, looked right-side-up at the masked figure now kneeling before her. The familiar silver-thread mask glinted faintly in the sunlight, but his breathing was quick, his posture tense.

“I have found out how to scheme the third prince for all his wrong doings.”

At that, Fengying swung herself upright with practiced ease, boots hitting the ground in a quiet thud. “Now we can take down the third prince for his wrongdoings,” she said, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeves. Her voice was calm, almost amused, but her eyes sharpened mixed with interest and chaos. “Let me guess ,you’ve also discovered how he became crown prince?”

“Yes, my lady. I discovered why the first prince never received the title.”

Fengying’s expression turned calculating. “Continue.”

“It was the third prince,” the agent said grimly. “The first prince uncovered his schemes and confronted him in private. But the third prince silenced the matter before it could ever reach the emperor’s ears.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Good. Anything else?”

The agent hesitated. Even with the mask covering half his face, she could tell his jaw had tightened. His voice dropped to a whisper. “No solid evidence yet. He is always surrounded by his personal guards. His movements are unpredictable, and one wrong step will expose all of us. This mission is dangerous, even if it seems quite easy my lady.”

She waved her hand dismissively, as if brushing away an insect. “The success rate is still fifty percent. That will be more than enough. I’ll spy on him myself. You and other agents don’t need to get involved further.”

The agent’s head bowed until his forehead nearly touched the ground. “As you command, my lady.” With that, he melted back into the shadows, leaving only the scent of dust and wind in his wake.

---

Across the city, the air carried a different weight.

Inside a stone-walled courtyard lined with weapon racks and battle maps, Zhang Zhengyu stood like a statue before a table, its surface covered with parchment and half-burnt candles. His armor gleamed faintly under the dim light, the metal catching the flame’s reflection as though it were alive.

Before him, a man knelt with his head lowered, speaking in a careful, measured tone.

“You said you had news on the third prince,” Zhengyu said. His voice was deep but controlled, the kind of voice that carried both command and warning.

“Yes, General,” the informant replied. “The first prince never lost the title, it was stolen from him. My trail led me to the third prince’s private guards. There was… interference. And a witness, one who might have confirmed the truth, but vanished days before the title was bestowed.”

Zhengyu’s eyes narrowed, though the rest of his face remained unreadable. “Evidence?”

“Not yet. The third prince’s inner circle is sealed tighter than a fortress gate. No one gets close without an invitation or without paying the price with their life. Not even maids.”

The general’s gaze dropped briefly to the candle flame flickering on the table. The shadows it cast swayed like soldiers in formation, moving but never breaking line.

“And if the wrong person hears of this?” he asked quietly.

“It could mean charges of treason for everyone involved,” the informant admitted. His fingers twitched against the ground, betraying the strain in his voice.

Zhengyu straightened to his full height, the quiet authority in his presence enough to make the air feel heavier. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, not in threat, but in readiness.

“Then I’ll handle it,” he said. “Alone.”

The informant bowed deeply and withdrew into the corridor beyond, his footsteps fading until there was only the sound of the candle sputtering in the stillness.

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