The corridors of YongShen Hall no longer echoed like they once did. Even sound had begun to tiptoe.
Whispers hung behind curtains. Greetings took longer to come, as if every word was being weighed before spoken. And in the heart of the mansion, the man who ruled its silence remained unchanged.
Lord Shen moved like a shadow within stone.
Unfaltering. Unreachable.
And yet, Lianhua's heart followed him like a flame chasing breath.
She began to notice things she hadn't before. The tilt of his head when he thought. The faint twitch in his brow when displeased. The way his shoulders remained perfectly straight, even
when standing alone in the cold.
She had once feared his presence. Now, she feared her own yearning.
Was it possible to fall in love with silence?
Not the absence of words—but the ache left behind by them?
Even so, the distance between them did not shorten.
Liwei remained polite, restrained, and deliberate. Their meetings were functional. Their conversations—brief, businesslike. He never scolded, never raised his voice. But never once did he linger. Never once did he ask if she was lonely.
And yet—she waited.
She waited in the corridors he walked through.
She paused at the doors he passed.
She stood beside him in silence and called it companionship.
It was Zhenli who noticed first.
"He doesn't see you," the girl whispered one evening as they stood watching the inner courtyard.
Lianhua didn't reply.
"He respects you. Yes. I think he even trusts you now. But… I don't think he knows what you feel."
"I don't need him to," Lianhua said, though her voice trembled at the end.
Zhenli looked up at her. "That's the saddest part."
Malati had grown cold.
She still performed her duties—folded robes, prepared tea, dressed Lianhua's hair. But her words had become sparse, her smiles painted.
When Lianhua asked if she wished to rest, Malati bowed and replied, "I serve you as
always, my lady."
But her eyes betrayed a distance Lianhua couldn't cross.
Rumors reached the mansion's edges—claims of missing ration crates, disagreements among captains, and hidden correspondence from the capital. Some said the crown prince had questioned Liwei 's loyalty in council. Others whispered the fourth prince had returned to the court with "Concerning observations."
It was Zhao Yue who delivered the most direct report.
"There's talk of reducing Lord Shen's jurisdiction over Long Zhi," he said. "They're debating whether to reassign command 'for the sake of balance.'"
Lianhua's blood chilled.
"They're trying to cut his legs beneath him," she said.
"They're trying to keep him from rising at all," Zhao corrected.
That night, Lianhua stood outside Liwei 's chamber for a long time.
The lantern outside his door burned low, the wick flickering as if unsure whether to hold on.
She did not knock.
She rested her hand against the wood.
How do you love a man who builds walls of silence around himself?
And if you knock long enough… will he hear it?
Or will you become the silence, too?