"Mò Lián, Mò Lián...! Wake up!"
Lord Chen's sister stood by Mò Lián's bed, tapping her shoulder. Mò Lián opened her eyes and smiled.
"Good morning, Mum," she mumbled. " I love you so, Aunt." She sat up and wrapped her aunt in a tight hug.
For a moment, the woman looked, amusement softening her face. Then the hardness melted. Tears spilled from those sour, weathered eyes, and she collapsed into Mò Lián's arms, crying.
Mò Lián patted her hair, smiling, yet puzzled. "Why are you crying? Did you miss your dog? I'll get you a new one."
Mò Lián felt sorry for her aunt.
"Mò Lián... I lost my son and my husband when you were born. I don't want to lose you. I love you too, my dear daughter," her aunt sobbed.
"I'm like your mother. Wherever your mother is, she will be proud of you. I will take care of you; let her take care of my son." They held each other, both crying.
"Mum." Mò Lián's voice trembled as she pulled from the embrace and looked into her aunt's eyes, tears mirroring hers.
"Yes... I love you." Her aunt wiped her face and forced a small smile. "Your mum loved to dance — I'll teach you her moves. I'll make sure you get the perfect husband from heaven."
They spoke of Mò Lián's mother for a long time, their words weaving memories like fragile threads of silk. The more her aunt shared, the more Mò Lián felt the absence of the woman she had never truly known, a hollow space in her heart slowly filling with both grief and pride.
When the hour grew late, her aunt straightened, wiping at her eyes.
"Come, child. We must go."
Mò Lián rose, expecting they would light incense at the temple, perhaps pray for her mother's spirit. But instead of turning toward the familiar road lined with lantern posts and temple bells, her aunt led her deeper into the bustling streets.
Confused, Mò Lián followed closely, the crowd pressing around them. The air smelled of roasted chestnuts and sandalwood. Her aunt said nothing, her expression unreadable, until at last they stopped in front of a clothing shop.
Silks of every shade hung in the wide wooden windows — deep crimson, twilight blue, pure white, each catching the glow of the lanterns like a dream made cloth.
"Aunt?" Mò Lián asked softly, her brows knitting.
Her aunt only smiled and pushed the doors open.
Inside, the tailor hurried forward, bowing politely before pulling out a measuring cord. With quick, practiced hands, he measured the length of Mò Lián's arms, the slope of her shoulders, the curve of her waist.
She stood stiffly, her heart hammering, excitement blooming though she didn't understand.
"Aunt... what is this for?" she whispered, her cheeks warming as the tailor adjusted the cord across her chest.
"You'll see soon enough," her aunt replied, her eyes glinting with quiet purpose.
Mò Lián bit her lip, torn between nerves and wonder. Never had she stood in such a shop; never had fine silk brushed against her skin. A thrill stirred in her chest, even as her mind spun with questions.
Whatever her aunt had planned, it was something far beyond an ordinary temple visit.
They returned home. The sun hammered down, and Lord Chen's sister suddenly started dancing in the courtyard, wild, practiced steps that made the air hum. Mò Lián watched from the balcony, smiling.
When the show ended, her aunt panted, chest heaving. Mò Lián rose and applauded. "Wow... you're a wonderful dancer. That was so smooth."
"My brother never admitted it," the aunt huffed, rubbing her back. "I'm tired. Mò Lián! Your turn."
Mò Lián rolled her eyes. "Stop, Aunt. I don't know how."
She laughed, but her aunt's voice sharpened. "Mò Lián! Now."
Reluctantly, Mò Lián showed the small steps she knew. Her aunt's face fell into a frown.
"Should I get you a cane? Start again." So they practiced under the scorching sun until late evening.
When her grandparents returned from the temple, they stood at the wooden gate and watched the last of the practice. Her grandmother's hand flew to her face; tears came quickly.
Lord Chen has just arrived.
"Mò Lián... you have grown," she said, voice trembling. "Come here, my daughter. Hug me."
Mò Lián ran into her grandmother's arms, wiping away tears. "Do you like my dance?" she asked, pouting.
The sight of her granddaughter's movement, so like the late daughter they loved, broke them. Her grandparents began to weep. The whole family gathered in a single joyful hug. Lord Chen and his sister watched, smiling. "Join us," Mò Lián called, and the household laughter filled the dusk. That night was unforgettable.
The next morning. The women went to the tailor's vendor, and Mò Lián tried on the new material. "Mama, do you like it?" she asked, twirling.
"The material is suitable, but it doesn't fit you properly," her aunt judged. "Don't worry. I've already paid. Package it."
"Good," her grandmother said, standing. Everyone in the room turned as the tailor bustled. "Pull that away, hurry!" Mò Lián stepped into the fitting room and changed back into her ordinary dress.
A local carriage waited outside, booked by her grandmother. They rode to a royal dressing store, a place Mò Lián never imagined entering. She stepped out with her mouth open at the ornate facade.
"Come on, let's move," her granny urged. Inside, the receptionist greeted them warmly. "Hi, madam. How can I help you?"
"I want to dress my daughter to be more beautiful," the granny said, proud and excited.
"You're in the right place. Follow me." The staff led them to soft seats while two women from the inner salon joined. The granny described exactly how she wanted Mò Lián to look; the stylists nodded with broad, practiced smiles.
"Okay, Mama, it won't take long." They bowed and conducted Mò Lián into the dressing room.
Thirty minutes passed. They watched another girl emerge, stunning, and nodded politely. The granny muttered, "Our daughter will be prettier; I can't wait."
Time crawled until the granny finally stood, stretching. "What are they doing?" Mò Lián's aunt yawned. "I'm bored, I'll head home."
Mò Lián stepped out.
"Wow."
Every head turned. The room fell silent.
"Mama...!" Mò Lián whispered, stepping closer to her family. "Do you like it?"
Tears fell from her grandmother and aunt, radiant tears. They praised Mò Lián, and she began dancing in the shop, laughter spilling like music.
The minor celebration spilled out the open door; soon the shop brimmed with women and daughters drawn by the sound.
Her grandmother cried, "My daughter is back, and more beautiful." Mò Lián danced for the crowd, movements fluid and feral; the applause drowned when she finally stopped.
The store manager beamed. By evening, the fabric racks were depleted, and the dozen dresses were gone. The manager took the family to a private table and served food. "Thank you for coming," she said. "You've made my store more popular."
"There's no problem with that; your shop is top quality," Mò Lián's grandmother replied, nodding. "Indeed, beautiful work."
When the meal ended, the store owner pressed a large box toward Mò Lián. "Inside is an invitation to the palace. If you want to expand your dancing career, I will sponsor you. I will take care of you if you come."
Surprised with joy. The family exchanged looks, stunned, grateful.
"Thank you, madam. It's an honor," Mò Lián said, bowing as she handed the box to her aunt and grandmother.
"Wow!" the women cried together, hugging, laughing, blessing the day. "May our Almighty bless the day you were conceived," her grandmother said, patting the storekeeper. Her aunt joked, "Not fair, I want to be young again!" and they dissolved into laughter.
They returned home and found Lord Chen and the elder men waiting, mid-meal. The family told their story with bright faces; the house hummed.
"So my granddaughter will be married soon," Mò Lián's grandfather said, his smile broad and proud. "Why not? She's beautiful."
"I have a surprise for you." The men exchanged secret looks. "I bought the tickets," Lord Chen announced excitedly.
"What tickets?!" his sister demanded, incredulous.
The grandfather cleared his throat and produced a few red cards from his robe. The woman gasped, eyes wide, blinking in disbelief.
"The card to visit the palace," Lord Chen said at last.
"But... we got them late. The cards aren't complete for all of us."
The woman glanced at the gift box and the invitation card the store owner had given Mò Lián. Hope and confusion mixed with tears and laughter.
At the palace, King Tiān Lóngxuān and his son sat discussing affairs.
"How is the south?" the king asked, lifting his teacup.
"It's getting worse," the prince answered. "But I've changed a lot." The prince's voice carried a hard calm.
They spoke of governance until the king leaned back and released a deep breath. For a moment, he seemed to be freeing something inside him.
"It's been a while since I freed myself from this cage," he murmured. "Son—"
His ethereal energy thrummed beneath the palace stones, something ancient pressing at its bonds. The prince inhaled and turned to face his father.
"When will you get married?" the king smirked, teasing.
No reply came, and they laughed together — a brief, bright sound. "Be quick before you explode." The king clapped, amused.
"I know your inner energy is increasing fast. If you don't free yourself one day, you'll explode."
The prince smiled. "Dad, I will — but not now." He chuckled at himself.
A soldier nearby took an involuntary step back. A faint tug in the air grew stronger, and the soldiers shuffled away to find breath. Prince Tiān Jùn inhaled and deliberately released his energy into the hall.
The pull climbed, sudden, and the palace corridors shivered at the power. The soldiers withdrew until the quarters felt empty and the inner air hummed with something dangerous and holy. Prince Tiān Jùn's energy rolled out and settled like a storm waiting on the horizon.