Palace life was quiet on the surface — but underneath?It was a nest of vipers wearing perfume.
After just a week inside the Inner Court, Shen had already uncovered more secrets than he could count:The Grand Chamberlain was skimming taxes.The Third Concubine was sleeping with a general.And someone, somewhere, really wanted the Crown Prince dead.
Shen found the note tucked into a discarded servant's shoe — ink faded, but legible:
"Peach. Morning. Before sparring."
That same evening, the Crown Prince had requested his favorite breakfast: a ripe golden peach imported from the southern isles, sweetened in honey and chilled in rosewater.
Only three people handled the fruit before it reached the Crown Prince.
One of them was now Shen.
He stared at the peach on the silver tray, eyes narrowing.
It looked perfect.
Round. Glossy. Innocent.
"It's always the innocent-looking ones," he muttered.
With a small needle plucked from his sleeve, he pierced the skin near the stem — just a prick.
Seconds later, the needle tip turned black.
"Hmph. Fast-acting, soul-weakening poison," he muttered. "Crude. But efficient."
And now came the interesting part.
He could report it.
Warn the prince.
Be the hero.
…Or he could let it happen.
"A prince with no real talent. A throne that should've been mine…"
He paused. Then slowly… smiled.
But it wasn't time yet. Not this way.
No.
This wasn't just about revenge. It was about control.
When Li Ren entered the private garden pavilion — robes flawless, hair immaculate — Shen was already there, kneeling with the silver tray in hand.
Li Ren reached out for the peach without looking.
Shen let him take it.
Held his breath.
Waited.
"Stop," Shen said quietly.
Li Ren blinked. Turned.
"…What did you say?"
Shen stood, bowed low, and said, "Forgive me, Your Highness. The fruit was… dropped on the floor earlier. I replaced it. Please allow me to fetch a fresh one."
Li Ren looked suspicious. "I already touched it."
"I will bear the punishment for wasting royal food, Your Highness," Shen replied, his voice soft, eyes lowered.
Li Ren stared at him. A long moment passed.
Then — he tossed the peach aside.
"Tch. Fine. Be quick. I hate delays."
Shen bowed again. Deep. Respectful.
"You're welcome," he thought.
That night, the poisoner struck again.
Not at the Crown Prince — but at Lady Chen, the noble who supplied the southern peaches.
She died screaming. Boils on her face. Eyes melted in their sockets.
Shen stood silently as the news spread.
Who did it?
Why?
A mystery, they said.
But Shen knew better.
"I fed the bait to a viper, and it bit itself."