The raven's feather hairpin was a declaration. When Wei Yingluo fastened it into her hair the next morning, she felt its weight not as an ornament, but as a crown of thorns. It was a symbol of her secret alliance, a badge of her new, dangerous identity. In the mirror, her reflection seemed altered. The clever maid from the Embroidery Bureau was gone, replaced by a woman with eyes that held the chilling stillness of a frozen lake. The stone in her heart was no longer just a part of her; it was the core around which she was rebuilding herself, piece by calculated piece.
