"Do try not to shame the family, will you?" my stepmother said as she tightened the veil over my head, her fingers tugging just enough to hurt me.
I didn't answer her. That was the game: obedience in silence. She took it as submission. I took it as survival.
The room was too quiet. Yan'er knelt behind me, holding the box that contained the jade comb I had hidden beneath the silk layers of my robes. She knew better than to speak.
"You're lucky, you know," my stepmother went on, eyes scanning my reflection in the bronze mirror. "To be chosen by the Crown Prince. That useless sister of yours would've made a fool of herself."
She meant Zhen Rouya, her daughter. The legitimate one. The beautiful one. The one whose womb the imperial doctors whispered was as barren as the northern deserts.
I said nothing.
Outside the bridal quarters, the procession horns began to sound. It was time.
I stood, steady on my feet despite the weight of my robes and veil. Crimson silk trailed behind me like spilled blood. Gold thread shimmered in phoenix-shaped embroidery across my sleeves. The symbol of rebirth. Of fire. Of power.
The irony made my lips curl.
"Remember your place," my father said, appearing just long enough to avoid being accused of negligence. "Do what you're told. Be quiet. Be useful."
He didn't look at me. Neither of them did. Not really.
Yan'er followed silently as I walked out of the house that had never been a home.
The imperial gates stood tall, carved in black iron and overlaid with gold. Rows of officials and eunuchs lined the main courtyard, their expressions blank as they watched me arrive in the red bridal palanquin.
The scent of incense and fresh rain lingered in the air, carried by the wind. Drums pounded slowly in the distance. Not joyous. Ceremonial. Heavy.
I stepped out alone. No hand was offered to help me. That wasn't part of the act.
The Crown Prince waited at the top of the jade stairs, framed by a carved arch of phoenixes and dragons.
He was younger than I remembered..but taller. Broader. Sharper.
His robes were darker than custom dictated, a deep blood-red embroidered with black thread. His hair was pinned back with a golden crown of dragons. And his eyes..those eyes..were colder than stone.
He said nothing.
I bowed.
"Lady Zhen Liya, daughter of Minister Zhen, Consort to His Imperial Highness," the eunuch declared.
He still didn't speak.
When I rose, I didn't look at him directly. Only just enough to see the tension in his jaw. The faint flicker of recognition.
He remembered me. But he wasn't sure from where.
"You came willingly?" he asked.
"I go where my family commands, Your Highness," I said.
His gaze lingered on my face beneath the veil. Not long. But long enough to make my skin prickle.
He turned away. "Escort her to the South Pavilion."
The Princess Consort stood on the terrace above the receiving hall. She had not come down to greet me. Of course not.
Lady Ning Xiu was ivory perfection…tall, graceful, with skin like porcelain and lips painted the color of peonies. Her robes glittered with pearl-thread embroidery. Her expression did not move.
She had watched everything.
When our eyes met, she smiled.
"The palace welcomes you, sister," she said. "May your stay be… educational."
I lowered my head and smiled beneath the veil.
"I live to serve, Your Highness."
The South Pavilion was beautiful in a restrained, careful way. High screens painted with lotus blossoms. White marble floors. No warmth.
Yan'er unpacked in silence. When she unwrapped the jade comb and handed it to me, I took it without a word and tucked it into the sleeve of my night robe.
"You handled it well, my lady," she said finally. "They think you're just a quiet little bride."
"Good," I said. "Let them keep thinking it."
There was a knock at the screen. A young concubine stepped in…elegant, smiling, fake. Her name was Jin Luyin. I recognized her from my previous life.
"I wanted to welcome you, Lady Zhen," she said with a bow. "It's not easy, being new to the palace."
I offered her tea. She sipped and studied me.
"So young," she said. "And so beautiful. I'm sure His Highness will take a liking to you."
I smiled gently.
"I am here to serve, not to compete."
She laughed. "How noble."
She left soon after. Her perfume lingered like poison.
That night, I lit a single stick of incense and placed the jade comb on the altar tray beside my bed.
Yan'er waited silently by the door.
I knelt. The room was quiet.
I didn't cry. I had already done that in another life.
"Mother," I whispered. "I've come back. I'll be careful. I'll be patient. But I won't forget. Not this time."
The smoke curled upward, soft and slow.
Outside, the wind picked up. Somewhere beyond the walls, a drum sounded.
And I knew: the palace had seen a new consort arrive.
But it hadn't yet seen the woman I truly was.
"My lady, if His Highness doesn't show up to consummate your marriage, you'll be the laughing stock of the whole empire," Yan'er whispered, wringing her hands, pacing lightly at the edge of the bedding platform.
I looked toward the open screen window, where the moonlight cast long silver beams across the floor.
"It's okay," I murmured. "I cannot be worse than back there."
She stopped pacing and looked at me, her brows knitted in worry. But I could see something else, too…trust. Yan'er was all I had now. My only anchor.
This was a long game, and I needed her.
In my previous life, the Crown Prince had come, as expected…but he hadn't touched me. He hadn't even spoken more than two words before turning his back and falling asleep beside me, as if I were an unwanted object sealed into his fate.
But rules were rules. Even if the man didn't touch his bride, he had to appear on the wedding night, remain until dawn. That alone confirmed legitimacy. But back then, I had done nothing. I hadn't smiled. I hadn't tried.
I had just been scared.
Not this time.
This time, I would disarm him with delicacy, confuse him with submission, then seduce him without ever lifting my veil of innocence. If I could charm him enough to make love to me at least once over the three ceremonial nights, then the palace would know I was not to be mocked.
That I belonged.
"But my lady… everyone in the palace may look down on you if he doesn't touch you. The consorts, the servants…even the dowager empress…" Yan'er's voice quivered with fear she didn't dare name.
I turned to her, calm.
"He will come. It is tradition and custom. He's not above that law."
Just as she nodded slowly, the screen outside slid open.
"Announcing His Imperial Highness!" a eunuch called.
Yan'er and I snapped into action. She smoothed my sleeves, adjusted my veil, and I stood just as the Crown Prince stepped through the doors.
We both dropped to our knees. I did not lift my gaze, letting my lashes shadow my eyes. My expression was molded to quiet delicacy…the very image of a frightened girl playing at wifehood.
"You may rise."
His voice was low and precise. Yan'er and I obeyed.
"Leave us."
The eunuch and Yan'er exited with a whisper of rustling silk. My heartbeat fluttered in my chest, loud against the quiet.
He moved toward me slowly, his hands behind his back. His robe brushed against the polished floor with the soft hiss of brocade.
I stepped back,Carefully. Deliberately.
It was calculated, of course. I didn't make eye contact. I kept my posture guarded, fragile. I walked backward in measured steps until I caught the edge of the rug and stumbled.
His arms caught me immediately, strong and practiced.
I gasped softly and allowed myself to collapse gently against his chest. I could feel the warmth of him even through the layers.
He didn't let go right away. One hand hovered at the small of my back, the other moved to my chin. Gently…no, possessively…he tilted my face upward until our eyes met.
That was the first real moment.
Our first full glance.
He looked like every painting of a battle-hardened emperor..only better. More intense. Youthful, yes, but his eyes were those of a man who had seen bloodshed and betrayal.
And yet in those eyes, I saw confusion.
And interest.
I quickly pushed away, stepping back and bowing deeply.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness. Forgive my clumsiness."
Why was he acting like this?
In my past life, he had dismissed me like a shadow on the wall.
Now…he was staring at me as if I were a question he hadn't asked but desperately wanted the answer to.
"Are you refusing me?" he asked, voice sharp but quiet.
I dropped to my knees instantly.
"I dare not, Your Highness."
A long pause followed. I didn't dare lift my head.
Then, without a word, he sat on the edge of the bed. And with startling ease, he pulled me up and into his lap.
I tensed.
My breath hitched in my chest. My mind raced.
He hadn't done this last time.
He hadn't touched me at all.
Now, he was holding me as if he had the right to, as if I already belonged to him.
He said nothing. Just stared at me, his thumb brushing the side of my jaw in slow, barely-there strokes.
"You're trembling," he murmured.
"I… I am nervous," I whispered.
"You weren't earlier. You answered me with perfect clarity at the ceremony. And now you tremble?"
I looked down, allowing my lashes to fan my cheeks. "This moment is different."
He hummed, amused. "Because it's real?"
He was testing me. Watching me unravel…or appear to.
I played along.
"Yes, Your Highness."
His fingers trailed lightly down my neck, then stopped at my shoulder. He leaned in, his lips near my ear.
"Do you want me to consummate this marriage, Liya?"
I stiffened.
He had never spoken my name aloud in the last life.
The sound of it now was jarring…intimate.
I swallowed hard. "Whatever pleases Your Highness."
He chuckled. Low. Dangerous.
"You're well trained."
I kept my silence.
He stood then, lifting me with him.
I didn't protest. I let him place me on the bed. I laid there obediently, my hands folded over my stomach, eyes cast downward.
He watched me in silence, then reached for the candle.
But instead of dimming it… he snuffed it out completely.
Darkness.
Total.
He sat on the bed beside me, not touching, just present.
Minutes passed. I didn't dare move.
"I don't like actors," he said into the dark.
I remained still.
"But I like you."
My chest rose. Fell.
This wasn't part of the script.
"Rest, Consort," he said finally. "Tonight, I'll watch you sleep."
My heart skipped.
He didn't touch me. Not then. Not yet.
But he
didn't leave either.
And in the morning, when I opened my eyes, he was still seated beside me. Silent. Watching.
When he finally rose and left, I lay still for a while longer.
Butterfly effect, indeed.
This game was changing.
And I was also no longer the weakest piece on the board.