The imperial decree arrived before noon.
Zhen Luo was still halfway through reviewing memorials when Feng Huai burst in, breath uneven.
"Your Highness," he said urgently, dropping to one knee. "The Queen has issued a command."
Zhen Luo didn't look up. "Read it."
Feng Huai hesitated, then spoke. "You are to accompany Lady Li Shuran to the ancestral temple in three days' time. A public act of devotion. To… calm rumors."
The brush in Zhen Luo's hand snapped cleanly in two.
So that was her move.
Public. Symbolic. Impossible to refuse.
"Where is Han Jian?" Zhen Luo asked quietly.
Feng Huai swallowed. "He… was reassigned this morning. Temporarily removed from your guard."
The room went cold.
At that exact moment, Han Jian was standing in the rain.
Not by choice.
A group of palace guards blocked his path, their posture stiff with false authority.
"Orders from above," one said. "You're to remain in the outer compound until further notice."
Han Jian looked at the sky, then at them.
"Oh?" he said lightly. "Am I dangerous now?"
No one answered.
He smiled anyway.
Elsewhere, Bai Zehan stared at the same decree in disbelief.
"She's forcing it," he muttered. "Right in front of everyone."
Luo Xian leaned against the table, arms folded. "She wants him isolated."
"And Han Jian?"
Luo Xian's eyes darkened. "She wants him cornered."
Bai Zehan scoffed. "Bad idea."
Back in the inner palace, Li Shuran stood before the Queen, posture perfect, eyes lowered.
"You did well," the Queen said calmly. "The Crown Prince cannot refuse."
Li Shuran smiled softly. "I only wish to serve the realm."
The Queen's fingers tightened slightly around her teacup. "Do not get attached."
Li Shuran's smile did not waver. "Of course not."
But her eyes gleamed.
That night, Zhen Luo went where he was not supposed to go.
The outer compound was poorly lit, damp, and deliberately neglected.
Han Jian was sharpening a blade when he sensed him.
"You're angry," Han Jian said without turning around.
Zhen Luo stopped a few steps away. "They moved you."
"They tried," Han Jian corrected calmly.
Zhen Luo clenched his jaw. "The temple visit—"
"I know."
Silence fell between them, thick and heavy.
"They want me obedient," Zhen Luo said. "Smiling. Accepting."
Han Jian finally turned, eyes sharp but gentle. "And will you?"
Zhen Luo met his gaze. "No."
Han Jian's smile widened—slow, dangerous.
"Good," he said. "Because I've been bored."
Zhen Luo huffed a quiet laugh despite himself. "You're enjoying this."
"A little," Han Jian admitted. "They're making mistakes."
In the shadows above the rafters, a figure shifted.
Someone was listening.
Han Jian's eyes flicked upward for a fraction of a second.
Later that night, one of Li Shuran's maids collapsed in the corridor.
Poisoned.
Not dead—but close enough to send a message.
By morning, rumors exploded.
By noon, the Queen was furious.
By evening, Li Shuran realized something was wrong.
Han Jian stood alone again under the eaves, rain dripping steadily, smile faint.
"Your move," he murmured into the dark.
Far away, Bai Zehan folded the incriminating scroll and tied it with a ribbon.
"Ready?" he asked.
Luo Xian nodded. "Once we release this," he said quietly, "there's no going back."
Bai Zehan grinned. "Good. I hate boring endings."
Above them all, the palace lights burned late into the night.
The smile the Crown Prince would wear at the temple had already been decided.
But the blood it would cost—
That part, no one else saw coming.