Morning crept into the Forbidden City like a cautious intruder, pale light slipping between red pillars and gilded roofs.
Bells rang softly, announcing the hour, and servants moved as one heads bowed, steps measured, breaths held.
Lin Xia washed her hands in cold water until her fingers numbed.
Pain kept the mind sharp.
She dressed quickly, tying her servant's sash with practiced ease, then hid the dagger beneath layers of dull gray cloth. It rested against her thigh like a second heartbeat, steady, reassuring.
Outside, the palace was already awake.
The Eastern Hall was busiest at dawn. Ministers gathered early here, drawn by ambition and anxiety in equal measure.
Deals were whispered over steaming cups. Fates shifted between sips.
Lin Xia carried her tray through the corridors, senses alert. She memorized footsteps, voices, habits. Which official preferred chrysanthemum. Which never drank what was poured for him. Which one always arrived too early and left too late.
Power left patterns.
She poured tea silently, eyes lowered, listening.
"…the grain tax records don't align...." "Careful. That name is still forbidden." "Ten years is a long time." "Not long enough."
Her fingers tightened briefly around the teapot handle.
Still forbidden.
Good.
That meant the truth was still dangerous.
As she turned away from one table, a sharp voice cut through the low murmur.
"Stop."
Lin Xia froze.
Her heart did not race. Panic was useless here.
She turned slowly to face the speaker, a middle-aged court official with narrow eyes and silk robes heavy with embroidery. His gaze raked over her, displeased.
"You," he said. "Bring me fresh tea. This one tastes… wrong."
Lin Xia bowed. "Yes, my lord."
She took his cup, inhaled subtly.
Bitter almond.
Poison.
Not enough to kill quickly but enough to weaken. To silence someone later, quietly, away from witnesses.
Her pulse remained calm.
Someone in this hall was already moving pieces.
She returned to the tea station, replacing the cup with deliberate care. No one watched her closely except from the far end of the hall.
Prince Xuan Jue stood near the lattice window, hands clasped behind his back.
He appeared uninterested, gaze directed outward toward the snow-dusted courtyard.
But Lin Xia felt it.
That cold awareness again.
She prepared a fresh cup not from the same pot, but from another entirely.
When she returned, she set it down gently.
The official sniffed, satisfied, and drank.
Minutes passed.
Nothing happened.
The poison had been neutralized.
Lin Xia stepped back into the shadows, breath slow.
She had just interfered in court politics on her second day.
Good.
Later that morning, the consequence arrived.
"Tea maid Mei Nu," an eunuch announced sharply. "You are summoned."
Summoned.
The word echoed like a blade drawn from its sheath.
She followed the eunuch through winding corridors she had not yet memorized, deeper into the palace, into territory servants rarely entered without reason.
The air grew quieter. Colder.
They stopped before a side chamber adjoining the Eastern Hall.
"Wait," the eunuch said, then slipped inside.
Lin Xia stood alone.
Snow began to fall beyond the open courtyard, flakes drifting soundlessly from the sky. For a fleeting moment, memory threatened to drag her under, white emptiness, burning lungs, blood on her hands.
She forced it down.
The door opened.
"Enter," came a familiar voice.
Prince Xuan Jue sat at a low table, documents spread before him. A brazier burned nearby, but the room felt colder than the halls outside. He did not look up as Lin Xia knelt.
"You altered the tea," he said.
It was not a question.
Lin Xia lowered her head. "This servant feared the tea had gone cold, Your Highness."
Silence.
Then, a soft sound porcelain meeting wood.
He set down his cup.
"The official who drank it," Xuan Jue continued calmly, "was scheduled to present a memorial this afternoon. One that would have displeased certain people."
Lin Xia said nothing.
"You spared him."
Still nothing.
Prince Xuan Jue finally looked at her.
Up close, his gaze was even more unsettling, sharp, penetrating, like ice cracking under pressure. He studied her hands, her posture, the way she breathed.
"Tea maids are not trained to recognize poison," he said.
Lin Xia met his eyes for the first time.
"They are trained to survive," she replied quietly.
The air shifted.
Something dangerous flickered behind his expression not anger, not suspicion alone.
Interest.
"Where did you learn?" he asked.
"A long winter," she said.
It was the closest she would come to truth.
For several heartbeats, he did not speak. Then:
"You will serve me from today onward."
The words fell like a verdict.
Lin Xia's mind raced.
Serving him meant access....unprecedented access. It also meant proximity to the most dangerous man in the palace.
It was everything she wanted.
And everything she should fear.
"Yes, Your Highness," she said.
"Understand this," Xuan Jue continued, voice low. "If you betray me, I will not hesitate."
She bowed deeply.
"If I betray you," she said, "this servant deserves death."
A faint, almost imperceptible curve touched his lips.
Almost.
That night, whispers spread through the servant quarters.
The Eastern Hall tea maid had been reassigned. Personally chosen by the Ice Prince.
Some looked at Lin Xia with envy.
Others with pity.
She ignored them all.
From her new post, she observed Prince Xuan Jue closely. The way he read documents faster than others. The way he dismissed flatterers with a glance. The way he never drank from the first cup poured for him.
Like someone who had learned early that kindness was dangerous.
As she poured his tea, her fingers brushed the edge of his sleeve.
Just barely.
His body stilled.
For a split second, something flashed across his face, shock, recognition, pain. His hand tightened around the cup.
Lin Xia felt it too.
A jolt. Like a memory knocking from the inside.
Snow.
A boy's pulse weak beneath her fingers.
She pulled back immediately.
"Leave," he said, voice sharper than before.
She obeyed.
Behind her, Prince Xuan Jue stared at his hand long after she was gone.
Why did her touch feel like a wound reopening?
And why after ten years did the snow finally feel close again?