Knock, knock—
The sound at the door broke Baili Jun’s thoughts.
Nanny Lan’s voice came muffled through the panel. “Your Highness, the hot water is ready. I’ve had it sent to your chambers.”
“I know.” Baili Jun tucked all the evidence into a hidden compartment before opening the door.
The bedchamber was filled with steam.
Nanny Lan helped the princess remove her wedding robe. Seeing the dried blood at the base of her hand, she frowned. “Allow me to bandage it…”
“No need.” Baili Jun plunged her hand into the copper basin. Blood swirled in the water like blooming red plum blossoms. She tore a strip of silk and wrapped the wound casually, then turned to Nanny Lan, who seemed about to speak. “It’s late. Go rest.”
Nanny Lan sighed and said no more. She left the chamber, closing the door softly, but lingered in the corridor. Her wrinkled hand unconsciously stroked the faded sachet at her waist—a gift from Empress Renyi twenty years ago, its brocade frayed with age. As the Empress’s maid, she had watched Baili Jun grow from a swaddled infant into the dazzling Princess Zhaohua. Tonight should have been her wedding celebration. Instead, the consort’s mansion burned, and the princess returned alone, wounded—the gash at her hand clearly from a blade.
The lanterns swayed in the wind, shadows flickering across Nanny Lan’s face. At last, she only pulled her cloak tighter. She did not need to know the reasons—just as when the young princess had once been clawed by a stray palace cat. Back then, she had simply tended the wound and slipped a sharpened dagger into the girl’s hand.
The sound of water echoed faintly from within. Nanny Lan bowed toward the chamber in a formal salute. As she turned away, she squeezed the sachet, as if steeling herself. Whatever her mistress was plotting, this old body could still fight for her once more.
…
Inside, footsteps faded. Baili Jun shook droplets from her hand, loosening her inner robe to bathe. But as she set her clothes aside, her gaze caught the bronze mirror. She froze.
Her eyes dropped to her chest. A jagged scar glared back at her. Her fingers trembled as they traced it.
A sharp phantom pain stabbed through her, as if the blade of that night had pierced her heart again, tearing flesh and bone.
The memory of her heart being carved out surged in her mind.
She pressed hard against her chest, nails digging deep into her skin.
No! When had this scar appeared?
Since her rebirth, she had slain the consort, laid traps for the Crown Prince—everything under her control. But this scar was a variable she could not explain.
It should not exist. Yet it did.
Why? Was it the mark of her rebirth? Or was it meant to remind her, always, of the agony of having her heart carved out?
The chamber fell silent, broken only by the faint hiss of the burning candlewick.
In a daze, Baili Jun felt her heart pounding violently within her chest. Her hand pressed against the scar, sensing the powerful rhythm beneath. What secret did this heart conceal?
Her mother’s dying murmurs, her father’s occasional complicated gaze, Madam Lan’s hesitant silence, and the Crown Prince’s endless schemes.
All the fragments spun in her mind, yet refused to form a complete picture.
…
A quarter-hour earlier, at the Crown Prince’s mansion.
Crown Prince Baili Zhang rubbed the jade ring on his thumb, watching Xuan Yi manipulate the star chart.
Xuan Yi cast seven copper coins, arranging them into the Big Dipper formation.
When the last coin landed on the *Greedy Wolf* position, it suddenly split in two.
The Crown Prince’s eyes locked on the broken coin, his voice chilling. “Well?”
Blood trickled from Xuan Yi’s lips as his fingers whitened, pressing down on the trembling chart. “The Ziwei Emperor Star has been tainted with blood… The companion star that should have extinguished at midnight instead struck back at the Greedy Wolf position.”
He lifted his head sharply. “Your Highness, the heart-carving formation has been broken.”
“Broken?” The Crown Prince shot to his feet, disbelief and fury twisting his face. “She was supposed to die tonight! How could a dying woman break the formation?!”
“Or…” His gaze narrowed at Xuan Yi. “Is it that your skill is inferior to the Grand Astrologer’s, and you cannot complete the ritual?”
Xuan Yi wiped the blood from his lips, voice hoarse. “If Your Highness did not trust me, why avoid my master and come to me instead?”
The Crown Prince’s expression darkened, veins bulging at his neck.
Suddenly, a violent gust scattered the charts across the desk.
Xuan Yi scrambled to hold them down, but one sheet fluttered to the floor—marked *Dragon Vein Transference Ritual*. Of the seven red points, six had already dimmed. Only the last remained, glaring scarlet like a drop of fresh blood.
Zhaohua!
The Crown Prince’s knuckles cracked as he clenched his fist. “She was supposed to die tonight! Ji Huai’an, that—” His words were cut off by hurried footsteps.
“Your Highness!” The commander of the shadow guards knelt, reporting urgently. “The prince consort’s mansion is ablaze. The fire is too great—our men cannot enter. Lord Ji is dead.”
“Useless!” The Crown Prince kicked over a lampstand. Oil spilled, flames leapt up, consuming the ritual chart.
Firelight twisted his face as he glared at the commander, chest heaving.
“And Zhaohua?”
“The consort’s mansion is ruined. Princess Zhaohua’s whereabouts are unknown.” Sweat beaded beneath the commander’s mask.
“Our spies in the consort’s mansion were discovered—their bodies dumped behind the Crown Prince’s mansion’s alley. On them we found this.” He offered a bloodstained cloth with trembling hands.
The Crown Prince snatched it. The words scrawled in blood were jagged, carved as if by fingertips dipped in gore: “Tell the Crown Prince—Princess Zhaohua has returned from hell!” His breath caught.
Xuan Yi’s words echoed: The companion star did not die—it burns brighter.
Could she truly not be killed?
Xuan Yi coughed violently, copper coins clattering from his sleeve, each splitting in half. His voice rasped: “Your Highness, Princess Zhaohua carries the power of dragon-vein backlash. She cannot be slain by force…”
“Absurd!” The Crown Prince kicked the star chart, coins scattering. “How could the fate of the dragon veins rest upon one woman?!”
He tore the bloodstained cloth into shreds. “Send word to Wang Shian. Tomorrow at court, I want every censor to denounce her as a baleful star, a curse upon the realm!”
The scraps fell like ash. He stared toward the princess’s manor, a low laugh escaping. “And let the storytellers in the southern district spread the tale—that on her wedding night, Princess Zhaohua revealed her demonic form and devoured the consort’s heart.”
The commander looked up, meeting the Crown Prince’s venomous gaze.
“If she has crawled back from hell…” the Crown Prince whispered, “then I will make her die again—this time, before the eyes of the entire world.”