The wind smelled of sandalwood, dew, and secrets.
Dressed in plain gray robes, with his hair tied back in a low knot, the boy who had once been thrown away passed through the gates of the Imperial Palace — this time, not as a crying infant hidden in cloth, but as a silent servant among dozens of others.
No one noticed him.
That was the point.
He moved through marble halls and vermilion corridors with practiced stillness, his eyes memorizing everything — guard rotations, noble passageways, which ministers barked orders and which bowed too low.
The palace was a grand stage, glittering with gold and jade. But beneath the beauty… he saw it clearly now.
"Rot," he thought. "So much rot hidden behind silk and ceremony."
Inside the servants' quarters, he was assigned a new name.
"Shen."It meant deep, silent, hidden beneath the surface.
The eunuch who assigned it glanced at him and muttered, "Too quiet for your own good. Stay out of trouble."
He nodded once. Silent as ever.
But inside, fire burned.
"Call me what you will. I'll take your name… just not your fate."
Three days later, his path changed forever.
He was summoned to attend the Crown Prince's morning training session — not as a participant, but as the one who prepared the arena mats and towels.
He stepped onto the jade training platform, its walls adorned with banners of dragons and tigers, and saw him.
Li Ren.
His twin.
The golden son of the empire.
Clad in ornate crimson robes trimmed with silver thread, his hair crowned with a jade pin, Li Ren wielded a spear with practiced elegance. His form was sharp, graceful, flawless — the ideal prince in every way.
And yet… the watching crowd of ministers and generals did not see the subtle stiffness in his movements. The hesitation in transitions. The shallow depth of his cultivation aura.
But Shen saw.
"He's been praised too much," Shen thought coldly. "He's good. But he's not excellent. Not yet."
Li Ren finished the demonstration and smiled as the crowd applauded.
Then, as he turned, his gaze locked onto Shen.
For a moment, their eyes met.
A flicker of confusion crossed the prince's face — just a flash — before he looked away.
But Shen had seen it.
Recognition?
Instinct?
Or the silent whisper of blood calling to blood?
He bowed his head and returned to cleaning the training mat.
But in that moment, he knew:
"He felt it. Even if he doesn't understand."
That night, Shen stood beneath the palace walls, gazing up at the stars.
His fingers brushed the hilt of the dagger hidden in his robes — a gift from the masked man who raised him.
"You will have a chance to kill him. One day.""Will you take it?" the man had asked.
He never answered.
And even now, staring into the heavens above the palace that once cast him aside, Shen whispered only four words:
"Not yet. Not now."