The Hall of Supreme Harmony glittered like a beast with jeweled teeth.
Gold-lacquered pillars rose toward a ceiling painted with coiling dragons. Sunlight filtered through high lattice windows, turning the air itself into something ceremonial. Incense smoke curled lazily, sweet and deceptive.
Li Xueyan walked forward alone.
Each step measured. Each breath controlled.
The crimson gown trailed behind her like spilled wine. It was a dangerous color—too bold for a noble daughter attending her first imperial audience.
Perfect.
Eyes followed her immediately.
Ministers paused mid-whisper. Noble daughters stiffened behind jeweled fans. Even the palace attendants could not help glancing twice.
She felt it.
Attention.
Assessment.
Threat.
At the end of the hall, elevated above all others, stood the imperial dais.
And beside the Emperor—
him.
Crown Prince Yan Zhen.
Alive.
Untouched by memory.
Untouched by fire.
Her pulse did not falter.
Not outwardly.
But inside her ribs, something tightened.
He looked younger than she remembered. Less carved by responsibility. His expression was calm—almost distant—as though the world existed merely to be observed and judged.
His robes were midnight blue today, embroidered with faint constellations. The color sharpened the angles of his face. His hands were clasped behind his back.
He was not looking at her.
Yet.
"Daughter of Minister Li, step forward."
Her father's voice trembled faintly as he presented her.
Xueyan moved forward and knelt gracefully.
Her forehead touched the cool marble.
In her previous life, this had been the moment her heart began to race with innocent hope.
This time—
Her mind calculated.
"Rise," came the Emperor's command.
She stood slowly.
And finally—
Yan Zhen's gaze shifted.
It met hers.
The world narrowed.
It was not shock.
Not recognition.
But something undeniable flickered across his eyes.
A pause.
A breath too long.
As though his soul had leaned forward before his mind could restrain it.
Xueyan held his gaze calmly.
Not submissive.
Not flirtatious.
Measured.
Controlled.
His fingers tightened slightly behind his back.
Interesting.
She had not imagined it.
There was resonance.
Perhaps rebirth did not erase everything.
The Emperor's voice droned about alliances, loyalty between noble houses, strengthening the empire.
In her last life, she had barely heard it over the pounding of her heart.
Now she heard every syllable—and every whisper layered beneath it.
Minister Qiao stood two pillars to the left.
Duke Liang three steps behind him.
Both watching her.
Not with admiration.
With calculation.
Yes.
The conspiracy had already begun.
Yan Zhen stepped forward at last.
The hall seemed to tilt around him.
"Daughter of Minister Li," he said evenly, "the court speaks highly of your refinement."
His voice.
It still carried that low steadiness. The kind that made soldiers kneel and women tremble.
In her last life, it had once whispered her name against her skin.
She extinguished the memory immediately.
"Your Highness overestimates me," she replied smoothly.
A faint murmur rippled.
Too direct.
Too confident.
A proper noble daughter should blush.
She did not.
His gaze sharpened.
"You do not seem nervous."
She met his eyes fully.
"Should I be?"
Silence.
A bold question.
The Emperor's brows lifted faintly.
Yan Zhen studied her.
Then—
Very slightly—
His lips curved.
Not a smile.
Something more dangerous.
"Most are."
"I am not most."
The words fell between them like flint striking stone.
Heat sparked.
Subtle.
Invisible to most.
But not to her.
Inside her chest, the warmth pulsed again.
The Phoenix stirred.
Reacting.
To him.
She kept her breathing steady.
Not here.
Not now.
Yan Zhen descended one step from the dais.
Close enough now that she could see the faint scar along his jaw—a remnant from the northern campaign.
She remembered pressing ointment there once.
Stop.
He circled her slowly.
Not disrespectful.
But assessing.
The court watched with open curiosity now.
"She wears crimson," a noblewoman whispered.
"Too bold."
"Too arrogant."
Yan Zhen stopped before her again.
"Crimson is a color of dominance," he observed.
"Yes," she agreed softly.
"And of blood."
"Yes."
"And of marriage."
Her gaze did not waver.
"Yes."
Silence thickened.
The Emperor watched with concealed amusement.
Minister Qiao frowned faintly.
Yan Zhen tilted his head slightly.
"Do you seek marriage, Lady Li?"
The trap was clear.
Answer too eagerly—she appears desperate.
Answer too coldly—she insults the Crown Prince.
Xueyan lowered her lashes just enough to soften her gaze.
"I seek purpose, Your Highness."
The hall quieted.
That was not the expected answer.
"And you believe marriage provides purpose?"
"Only if the partnership is worthy."
A dangerous sentence.
Several ministers stiffened.
Yan Zhen's eyes darkened slightly.
"And what defines worthy?"
Her pulse slowed.
This was the moment.
In her last life, she had said: loyalty, stability, harmony.
Naïve words.
This time—
"Equality," she said calmly.
The hall went silent.
Even the incense smoke seemed to pause.
Equality?
Between Crown Prince and consort?
Audacious.
Yan Zhen's expression did not change.
But something shifted in the air between them.
He stepped closer.
Close enough that only they could hear his next words.
"And if I do not offer equality?"
Her gaze flickered to his mouth briefly—then returned to his eyes.
"Then I would make you."
A collective inhale echoed faintly from nearby courtiers.
He did not move.
For three long heartbeats, they stood in a quiet battlefield.
Then—
A faint exhale left him.
Amusement.
Intrigue.
Challenge accepted.
He turned back toward the Emperor.
"Father," he said calmly, "I find Minister Li's daughter suitable."
Gasps.
Minister Li nearly fainted.
The Emperor smiled faintly.
"So swiftly decided?"
Yan Zhen's gaze slid back to Xueyan.
"Some matters are immediately clear."
Was that fate speaking?
Or curiosity?
She did not know.
But she knew this—
He had chosen her again.
And this time, she would not be chosen blindly.
The audience concluded soon after.
Formalities were exchanged. Dates discussed.
As the court dispersed, Xueyan turned to leave.
A voice stopped her.
"Lady Li."
She paused.
Turned.
Yan Zhen stood alone now near a side colonnade.
Watching her.
The hall had emptied enough that conversation would not be scandalous—but it would be noticed.
Good.
Let them notice.
She approached slowly.
"Your Highness."
His gaze was searching now.
Less imperial.
More personal.
"Have we met before?" he asked quietly.
The question sliced through her composure.
For a fraction of a second, her heart forgot how to beat.
He does not remember.
He cannot remember.
But something in him senses it.
She smiled faintly.
"Not beyond today."
He studied her face as though searching for something misplaced.
"You look at me," he said slowly, "as though you know me."
Her pulse thrummed.
Careful.
"I know of you," she corrected smoothly.
"That is different."
"Is it?"
His eyes darkened.
"Yes."
The warmth inside her chest flared suddenly.
Sharp.
Hungry.
Her breath caught.
Yan Zhen noticed.
"You are pale."
"I am fine."
But she was not.
The Phoenix was reacting violently.
Not to the hall.
Not to the court.
To him.
As though recognizing—
Its executioner.
Her hand pressed subtly against her ribs.
Heat spread outward, not burning—but awakening.
Yan Zhen's gaze flicked to the movement.
"Are you unwell?"
Concern.
Genuine.
It twisted something inside her unexpectedly.
Do not soften.
"I do not break easily," she replied.
His jaw tightened faintly.
"I would not wish you to."
A dangerous sentence.
His voice had lowered.
Less prince.
More man.
Their proximity shortened.
The air thickened.
In her last life, it had taken months for this undercurrent to form.
Now it coiled instantly.
Perhaps rebirth accelerated fate.
Or perhaps—
She was no longer pretending innocence.
"Your Highness," she said softly, "may I ask a question?"
"You already do."
"If one day," she continued carefully, "you were forced to choose between the empire and a single life… which would you save?"
The question struck like a hidden blade.
His eyes sharpened.
"You ask much for a first meeting."
"Humor me."
Silence.
He did not answer immediately.
He looked toward the palace courtyard beyond the colonnade.
Toward the vast empire stretching beyond walls.
Then back at her.
"I would save what ensures stability."
Her stomach tightened.
There it is.
The same answer.
But then—
His gaze shifted slightly.
"And I would regret it."
Her breath stilled.
That—
That was new.
In her last life, he had never said that part aloud.
He stepped closer.
"Why ask such a question?"
Because you killed me.
Because I need to know if you would do it again.
"Curiosity," she replied.
He studied her a moment longer.
Then—
A faint, deliberate smile curved his lips.
"You are dangerous."
"Am I?"
"Yes."
"Then perhaps," she said softly, "you should reconsider your choice."
His eyes darkened fully now.
"On the contrary."
He leaned slightly closer.
"I am rarely afraid of fire."
The Phoenix inside her roared.
Heat surged violently through her veins.
For a split second—
A golden flicker flashed behind her pupils.
Yan Zhen's breath caught.
He saw it.
Saw something unnatural.
The air between them shimmered faintly.
Then—
It vanished.
The heat receded.
Her control snapped back into place.
They stood motionless.
Neither speaking.
Neither stepping away.
Finally—
He straightened.
"Rest well, Lady Li. You will need strength."
"For what?"
"For surviving me."
And with that—
He turned and left.
Leaving her alone beneath the carved stone dragons.
Her hand trembled slightly as she pressed it to her chest.
The Phoenix had responded to him.
Not in hatred.
In recognition.
That was dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Because if the flame recognized him—
It meant their fates were still entwined.
And if she allowed emotion to cloud her strategy—
She would burn again.
But this time—
She would take heaven with her.
Xueyan lifted her gaze toward the open sky beyond the palace eaves.
Clouds moved slowly across the sun.
Watch carefully, she thought.
I am no longer the girl you condemned.
I am the fire that remembers.
And this time—
I choose how the story ends.
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