Night in Gusu was quiet.
Too quiet.
From the outside, the palace seemed peaceful after the morning's court drama. Lanterns swayed gently in the wind, guards stood at attention, and servants moved like silent ghosts along marble corridors.
But inside the walls—
Shadows were moving.
In a dim chamber lit by a single candle, Minister Wen dipped his brush into ink.
His expression was calm, but his eyes were calculating.
He wrote slowly.
"To his Majesty, the King of Yiling.
The Third Princess of Gusu has changed beyond recognition.
She displays knowledge of medicine, military strategy, and trade forecasting that cannot be explained by her upbringing.
The court whispers question her identity.
If instability is desired… now is the time."
He paused.
Then added one final line:
"Your son stands firmly beside her."
The candle flame flickered.
Minister Wen folded the letter carefully and sealed it with red wax.
A shadow stepped forward from the darkness — a trusted spy.
"Deliver this to Yiling. No mistakes."
The spy vanished into the night.
Minister Wen smiled faintly.
"If the Emperor will not doubt her… then her husband's father will.".
Days later.
In the cold, majestic palace of Yiling, the King sat upon his black throne.
The letter lay open in his hand.
His expression darkened as he read.
My, son defending her in court.
Standing against suspicion.
Protecting her openly.
The King folded the letter slowly.
"So she survives rumors," he said quietly.
An advisor stepped forward. "Your Majesty?"
The King's eyes were cold.
" reply to minister wen"
The advisor understood immediately.
" Your majesty" what is your order?
The King's voice was steady — dangerously steady.
To Minister Wen of Gusu,
You have informed me that the Third Princess grows stronger within the court.
Rumors failed to shake her.
Suspicion failed to weaken her.
Then we will use fear.
Send someone into the palace.
Not a soldier.
Not a known spy.
Someone trusted.
Let the deaths begin quietly.
Two days after receiving this letter — one life.
Four days after — another.
Eight days after — someone of greater importance.
Do not act carelessly.
Each death must appear natural or accidental.
Let confusion spread before panic.
When fear has settled deeply into the palace walls—
The final target will be the Princess.
Her death must look like the result of internal instability.
Gusu must suspect itself.
No trace must lead to Yiling.
If you fail, do not return to me.
— King of Yiling
Back in Gusu
Zhou Ye stood by her chamber window, watching the moonlight touch the palace roofs.
Her heart felt uneasy.
This wasn't in the original timeline.
She closed her eyes.
This is new.
Footsteps approached.
She did not need to turn to know it was him.
"You're thinking too loudly," xu yang said softly.
She turned.
He stood a few steps away, still in court robes, but his expression had softened.
"When you are silent like this," he continued, "it means trouble."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
He stepped closer.
"What is it?"
For a moment, she hesitated.
Should I tell him?
His father was the King of Yiling.
If this truly was Yiling's doing—
But then she remembered.
In court, he had stood beside her without hesitation.
Against suspicion.
Against whispers.
Against power.
"I think someone is creating instability in Gusu's markets," she said finally.
"Deliberately."
His eyes sharpened instantly.
"Evidence?"
"Not yet."
She looked up at him.
"But it feels… controlled."
Silence fell between them.
He understood immediately.
"Yiling," he said quietly.
She did not answer.
That was answer enough.
His jaw tightened.
"My father would not move without purpose."
"And I would not accuse without proof," she replied gently.
Their eyes met.
This was no longer simply about rumors.
It was kingdoms.
Blood.
Loyalty.
He stepped closer.
"So you hesitate because of me."
Her breath caught slightly.
"I hesitate because I don't want you torn between two sides."
His expression softened — just a little.
"I chose my side the day I drank that cup."
Her heart skipped.
"You don't know that," she whispered.
"I do."
He raised a hand — slowly — as if giving her time to step back.
She didn't.
His fingers brushed against her wrist.
Warm.
Steady.
"If my father moves against you," he said quietly, "then he moves against me."
Her chest tightened.
"This is your kingdom too," she reminded him.
"And you," he replied softly, "are my wife."
The words were simple.
But they carried weight.
For a moment, the politics disappeared.
The tension.
The fear.
It was just the two of them under moonlight.
"You trust me?" she asked.
"I do."
Even knowing she had secrets.
Even sensing I was not the same woman from before.
He still chose her.
Her voice softened.
"Then stand with me again."
He did not hesitate.
"Always."
Minister Wen read the letter once.
It was short.
No long speech.
No emotional words.
Only one clear command:
"Send him into the palace of Gusu.
Begin quietly.
End with the Third Princess."
Minister Wen lowered the paper slowly.
So His Majesty had decided.
No war.
No armies.
Just one life at a time.
He folded the letter carefully.
The King had not mentioned how.
Not when.
Not in what order.
That meant one thing.
The method was his responsibility.
Minister Wen walked toward the table and stared at the map of Gusu.
"If the princess dies immediately," he murmured,
"they will close every gate."
Too fast would create chaos.
Too slow would create suspicion.
He tapped his finger lightly on the wood.
Fear must grow gradually.
Like a shadow stretching at sunset.
Next day,
Minister wen was sitting by the window. His face was calm.
The flames reflected in his eyes.
Behind him, a man stood quietly.
Dressed in plain robes.
Head lowered.
"You understand your task," Minister Wen said calmly.
The man nodded once.
No name was spoken.
No title given.
Minister Wen placed three small stones on the table.
"Two days."
The man did not ask questions.
"Four days."
Silence.
"Six and Eight."
The man picked up the stones and placed them inside his sleeve.
"I will begin tonight," he said softly.
Minister Wen smiled faintly.
"Remember. You are only a doctor."
The man bowed and left.