The first attempt on her life came before midnight.
Xueyan had expected it.
That did not make the waiting easier.
Moonlight poured through the carved lattice of her chamber windows, spilling silver across the polished floor. The Li estate was quiet—too quiet. Even the night insects seemed hesitant to sing.
She sat before the bronze mirror, hair unbound, the crimson outer robe replaced with a pale inner silk.
In her previous life, she had been drugged three days after the Crown Prince's public selection.
Not killed.
Tested.
They had wanted to see how easily she would fall.
This time, they would escalate.
Because this time—
She had looked like a threat.
Her fingers dipped into the small porcelain jar hidden beneath her vanity table.
Inside was not cosmetic powder.
It was crushed frost-lotus and silver bark—a mild toxin neutralizer.
She swallowed a pinch dry.
Preventative.
The Phoenix stirred faintly in approval.
It had been three days since the audience.
Three days of rumors rippling through the capital.
Three days of Minister Qiao visiting Duke Liang far too often.
Three days of Yan Zhen sending no message.
She did not know whether that unsettled or relieved her.
A faint sound brushed against her senses.
Not audible.
Felt.
Air shifting.
Her gaze flicked to the ceiling beams.
Nothing visible.
But the temperature changed.
Colder.
Her pulse slowed.
Good.
Come.
A soft click.
The door handle.
Then—
A thin stream of white vapor slid beneath the crack.
Sleeping incense.
Not lethal.
They wanted her unconscious.
Alive.
Interesting.
She rose calmly and crossed the room without haste.
At the vanity, she deliberately stumbled, knocking over a ceramic cup.
It shattered loudly.
Footsteps paused outside.
She let her body sway.
Allowed her breathing to grow uneven.
Then she collapsed onto the bed, pulling the curtain half-closed.
Her lashes lowered.
She slowed her pulse deliberately, drawing on the faint heat within her core to regulate her blood.
The Phoenix hummed beneath her ribs.
Curious.
Hungry.
The door creaked open.
Two shadows slipped inside.
Not palace assassins.
Too light-footed.
Mercenaries.
One moved toward the incense source to strengthen it.
The other approached the bed.
Xueyan remained limp.
The second figure leaned closer.
A hand reached for her wrist.
To check pulse.
To confirm unconsciousness.
Her eyes opened.
Golden.
Blinding.
The Phoenix erupted.
Heat exploded from her core—not flame, not yet—but pressure.
The assassin recoiled violently.
"What—"
The second lunged forward.
A blade flashed.
Xueyan rolled off the bed fluidly, silk tangling around her legs but not slowing her.
The blade slashed air.
Her hand shot out instinctively.
She did not know what she meant to do.
But the Phoenix knew.
Her palm connected with the assassin's chest.
For a fraction of a heartbeat—
Silence.
Then—
Fire.
Not red.
Not ordinary.
White-gold flame burst from her skin and consumed him without smoke.
He did not even have time to scream.
Ash scattered across the chamber floor like fallen petals.
The second assassin froze.
Horror widened his eyes.
"You—"
The flame flickered toward him hungrily.
Xueyan felt it—
Its desire to devour.
She clenched her jaw.
No.
Control.
She forced the heat back inward.
The fire vanished instantly.
The assassin stumbled backward, shaking.
"Demon—"
She moved faster than he expected.
Grabbing the fallen blade from the first attacker.
Pressing it to his throat.
"Who sent you?" she asked quietly.
Her voice did not shake.
But her chamber still smelled faintly of burned flesh.
He swallowed hard.
"We—we were paid—"
"By?"
He hesitated.
The blade pressed deeper.
A thin line of blood surfaced.
"Duke Liang's steward!" he gasped.
There it is.
Too direct.
Almost careless.
Unless—
They wanted her to believe it was Duke Liang.
A scapegoat.
The Phoenix pulsed in warning.
The assassin's eyes flickered suddenly—not with fear—
With resolve.
His jaw tensed.
Poison capsule.
She reacted instantly, striking his temple with the blade hilt.
He collapsed unconscious.
Not dead.
Good.
She needed him alive.
Footsteps pounded outside.
Guards.
Her father's voice echoed down the corridor.
"Xueyan!"
She stepped back from the ash-stained floor.
The Phoenix heat receded slowly, leaving her skin flushed.
She took a single breath.
Then let her knees buckle as the door burst open.
Her father rushed inside.
Guards behind him froze at the sight.
Ash.
Broken furniture.
One unconscious assassin.
And Xueyan trembling on the floor.
"Daughter!"
He gathered her into his arms.
She allowed herself to shake now.
Allowed tears to gather.
Calculated vulnerability.
"They—" she whispered weakly. "They tried—"
Her father's fury ignited.
"Seal the estate! Interrogate him!"
Guards dragged the unconscious assassin away.
Servants gasped at the scorch marks.
"Fire?" someone whispered.
"There was no lantern near—"
Xueyan lowered her gaze.
The Phoenix had left no ordinary burn patterns.
Only a circular scorch beneath where the assassin had stood.
A seal-like mark.
Dangerous.
She would need to explain it.
Carefully.
Her father cupped her face.
"Are you hurt?"
She shook her head faintly.
"I woke… and they were there."
"Who would dare—"
She met his eyes softly.
"Father… perhaps this is connected to the Crown Prince's selection."
His jaw tightened.
Political.
Of course.
He understood immediately.
The Emperor could not be accused.
But rivals—
Yes.
"I will demand justice," he vowed.
No.
You will not.
Not yet.
But she said nothing.
Instead, she let exhaustion claim her posture.
The chamber was cleared slowly.
The ash discreetly swept away.
The unconscious assassin taken to interrogation.
By dawn—
The news had already reached the palace.
—
Yan Zhen did not wait for formal summons.
He arrived personally.
Unannounced.
The Li estate gates opened hurriedly.
Xueyan stood in the inner courtyard when he entered.
She had changed into pale blue today.
Subtle.
Vulnerable.
Calculated.
He crossed the courtyard without ceremony.
No escort beyond two guards.
His gaze scanned her body immediately for injury.
Possessive.
Protective.
His jaw was tight.
"Are you harmed?"
"No, Your Highness."
His eyes shifted to the faint mark on her wrist where the assassin had grabbed her.
His expression darkened.
"Who was responsible?"
"The assassin named Duke Liang's steward."
"Named," Yan Zhen repeated carefully.
"Yes."
"You doubt it."
She met his gaze.
"It felt convenient."
His eyes sharpened.
Good.
He understood.
He gestured slightly.
"Walk with me."
They moved toward the plum blossom trees lining the courtyard wall.
Petals drifted softly around them.
An almost romantic scene.
If not for the tension beneath it.
"You believe this is larger," he said quietly.
"Yes."
"And you did not panic."
It was not a question.
"No."
"Why?"
Because I have already died once.
"Because fear clouds judgment," she replied smoothly.
He stopped walking.
Turned toward her fully.
"You are not ordinary."
The statement was calm.
But heavy.
She tilted her head slightly.
"I never claimed to be."
His gaze lowered briefly to her hands.
"You wielded fire."
The words were soft.
But they struck like thunder.
Her pulse skipped.
He knows.
Of course he noticed.
The scorch mark.
The ash.
"You were not present," she said evenly.
"I arrived before your chamber was fully cleared."
Her silence stretched.
He watched her carefully.
Not accusing.
Not condemning.
Curious.
Measured.
"Say it," she said finally.
"Phoenix," he replied.
The word hung between them.
Ancient.
Forbidden.
The imperial clan had once hunted Phoenix bloodlines to extinction.
They were too powerful.
Too uncontrollable.
Too divine.
Her heartbeat was steady.
"You accuse me of myth."
"I accuse you of truth."
Wind shifted the plum blossoms around them.
Petals clung briefly to his dark hair.
"You are not afraid?" she asked quietly.
He stepped closer.
Close enough that their breaths mingled faintly.
"Should I be?"
"If what you suspect is real…"
His gaze deepened.
"Then you are not someone to discard lightly."
Discard.
The word pierced deeper than he knew.
Her throat tightened faintly.
"And if I burn the empire?" she whispered.
His eyes did not waver.
"Then I will stand beside you and decide whether it deserves saving."
Her breath faltered.
That—
Was not the answer she expected.
Not empire first.
Not duty above all.
He searched her face.
"You asked me days ago what I would choose."
Her pulse thudded once.
"I remember."
"I revise my answer."
The air stilled.
"If the empire demands a sacrifice that corrupts its soul… then perhaps it is the empire that should burn."
The Phoenix roared inside her.
Not violently.
But in resonance.
As if recognizing something long denied.
She had expected cold logic.
Political calculation.
Instead—
He offered fire.
Equal.
Dangerous.
Mad.
"Do not romanticize destruction," she said softly.
"I do not," he replied. "I strategize survival."
Their proximity narrowed further.
His hand lifted slowly.
Paused near her cheek.
Not touching.
Waiting.
Consent.
She did not step back.
His fingers brushed her skin lightly.
Warm.
Alive.
Not executioner.
Not yet.
Her breath softened despite herself.
"You are either my greatest threat," he murmured, "or my most powerful ally."
"Perhaps both."
A faint smile curved his lips.
"I suspected as much."
Footsteps approached distantly.
Servants.
The moment fractured.
He stepped back slightly.
Control restored.
"The assassin will be interrogated by my own men," he said calmly. "Quietly."
"Good."
"And you," he added softly, "will be guarded by those loyal only to me."
Possession threaded beneath the statement.
She noticed.
Did not reject it.
Not yet.
"As you wish, Your Highness."
He studied her one last time.
Then turned to leave.
Halfway across the courtyard, he stopped.
Without turning, he said:
"If you are truly Phoenix…"
Her pulse slowed.
"…then do not extinguish yourself hiding it."
And then he was gone.
Xueyan stood beneath drifting plum blossoms long after.
Her hand rose slowly to her chest.
The Phoenix burned steady now.
Not chaotic.
Awake.
The assassination had failed.
The political game had shifted.
Yan Zhen suspected.
But did not recoil.
Instead—
He leaned closer.
That was dangerous.
Because the more he stepped toward her fire—
The more difficult it would become not to step toward him.
And if she loved him again—
If she allowed that weakness—
History would repeat.
Unless—
This time—
They burned together.
Her gaze lifted to the palace walls in the distance.
The conspiracy was deeper than Duke Liang.
The attempt had been too visible.
Someone wanted her power revealed.
Wanted Yan Zhen aware.
Wanted tension.
Why?
To divide them?
Or to bind them faster?
Either way—
The game had begun.
And this time—
She remembered every move.
The Phoenix inside her unfurled its wings fully for the first time.
The night she burned had not ended her.
It had awakened her.
And the empire—
Had just felt its first tremor.
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