Lin Xin's amnesiac fog was sliced apart by a sudden, horrifying clarity. She looked at the nice, concerned face of her sister, and she saw the lie. The Emperor was watching her, his expression cold. Her sister was framing her. Her son was gone.
She was alone, and she had been brought here to die.
A primal fear threatened to silence her, but beneath it, the dormant instincts of the Goddess of War sparked. Even with no memory, she was still smart. She would not back down.
"Impersonate?" Lin Xin's voice, though quiet, was sharp and cut through her sister's fake sobs.
She ignored Yue Ruyan, her gaze lifting from the floor to lock directly onto the cold, powerful man on the throne.
"I don't know who this woman is," Lin Xin said, her voice gaining strength. "But I know who you are. You are Emperor Qi Yucheng. And you... you are my husband."
The sheer audacity of the impostor speaking so directly, so boldly, sent a shocked murmur through the guards. Yue Ruyan's kind smile flickered, her eyes flashing with a venomous surprise.
The Emperor's cold curiosity finally shifted. He leaned forward, his fiery red hair catching the light.
"You are either a fool," he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble, "or you are the most brazen spy I have ever seen."
He stood.
In one fluid, silent motion, Qi Yucheng descended the dais and walked toward her. He didn't stop until he was standing directly over her, casting a long, intimidating shadow. He was taller than her memories, his presence overwhelming. He crouched down, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes, as dead and cold as winter, searched her face, looking for a single flaw, a single trace of paint or putty that would prove her a fake.
He was so close she could smell the sandalwood on his robes. It was the same scent from her dreams.
"You have her face," he whispered, his voice laced with something that sounded almost like pain. "But you do not have her fear. The Yue Xinyi I knew—the real one—betrayed me. But she would never have the gall to return."
"Betray you?" Lin Xin's voice was incredulous. She had to use the only weapon she had left. "How could I betray you? When I gave you a son?"
The silence that followed was absolute.
Qi Yucheng's face, which had been a mask of cold control, visibly paled.
Yue Ruyan gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "What... what nonsense is this?"
"He is three years old," Lin Xin pressed, her words coming faster, her eyes locked on the Emperor's. "His name is Lin An, and he has your hair. The exact same fiery red. He is the symbol of our love! Would a traitor bear your child in secret for three years, only to return? Or would a wife?"
Qi Yucheng stood up so fast it was as if he'd been burned. He spun on the Captain of the Guard.
"The child," the Emperor demanded, his voice tight. "Did she bring a child?"
The Captain, his face grim, nodded once. "Yes, Your Majesty. A boy. His hair is... red."
"It's a northern tribe trait!" Yue Ruyan interjected, rushing to his side and grabbing his arm. "Yucheng, don't you see? It's a trick! She's a spy, using a common-looking child to play on your grief! It proves she was with the enemy!"
She turned, her eyes, so like Lin Xin's, full of a new, sharp cunning. "If she is truly your beloved Yue Xinyi," she challenged, "then she would remember everything about you. She would know your heart."
The Emperor's gaze hardened again, the brief flicker of hope extinguished. He looked back down at Lin Xin, his face a mask of judgment.
"A fair test," he said, his voice devoid of all warmth. He crossed his arms.
"You claim you are my wife. Then tell me," he asked, "what is our most cherished moment?"
Lin Xin's heart stopped.
She didn't know.
General Xie Ren knew she had amnesia, but he was gone, and she was alone.
Yue Ruyan was smiling, a tiny, triumphant smirk. This was the killing blow.
"I..." Lin Xin began, panic rising in her throat.
Think. Think..!
She closed her eyes, and the memory that had been torturing her for days returned. Sandalwood. A hard chest. She was in his arms, his fiery red hair brushing her cheek.
A voice... his voice... whispering... but the words were muffled, lost. It was just a feeling. A feeling of warmth and safety that was a painful contrast to the cold-shouldered man standing before her.
"I..." she stammered, opening her eyes. "I remember a room. With books. And the scent of sandalwood. I remember... you were holding me. You were... happy."
It was a guess. A desperate shot in the dark based on a single, fleeting fragment.
The Emperor's cold expression didn't change, but his eyes... they flickered. For a fraction of a second, a deep, agonizing pain surfaced.
He did remember.
But her answer was vague. Incomplete. It wasn't the proof he needed.
Yue Ruyan, seeing her opening, let out a delicate, sad laugh.
"Your Majesty, everyone in the palace knows you often read in the sandalwood library. This memory is just a lucky guess. A well-researched lie."
She turned to Lin Xin, her face a mask of pity.
"You are very good. You have her face, and you know a few of his habits. But you are not my sister."
Lin Xin's blood ran cold. She had failed the test.
But even without her memory, she was still smart. If she couldn't prove who she was, she would cast doubt on who her sister was.
"You say you are my sister," Lin Xin challenged, her voice low and sharp, her gaze snapping to Yue Ruyan. "Then you must know me well."
Yue Ruyan's smile faltered.
"You say I was the Goddess of War. A warrior. You are... weaker," Lin Xin noted, her eyes sweeping over Ruyan's delicate, pale hands. "Tell me, sister, what is the name of my personal sword?"
Now, it was Yue Ruyan who was trapped. Her face paled. She was the weaker twin, the one who stayed home. She would have no idea.
"I... I don't..." Ruyan stammered. "It's... it's just a sword! What does that matter?"
"It only mattered to me," Lin Xin shot back, her gaze returning to the Emperor. "Just as my son matters to me. He has your hair, Qi Yucheng! He is the symbol of whatever we shared. Would a spy bear your son for three years in exile? Or would a wife?"
The Emperor's face was a mask of thunder. He was trapped between two impossible scenarios.
One woman looked like his wife but had a vague, unproven memory.
The other was his consort but couldn't answer a simple question about the warrior she supposedly mourned.
And in the middle of it all... a red-haired child.
"Enough!" he roared.
The force of his voice made the columns in the throne room seem to vibrate.
He turned away from both of them, striding back toward the throne, a man in torment.
"The evidence that Consort Yue Xinyi was a traitor is absolute," he said, his voice thick with a new, confused rage. "And yet... you have her face. And you speak of a child."
He spun around, his decision made.
"Guards! Lock this woman in the Cold Palace. She is to see no one."
Yue Ruyan let out a small, relieved sigh.
"And Captain," the Emperor commanded, his gaze hard. "Bring me the child. I will see this red-haired boy for myself."