The gates of the Yuan residence shut behind her with a heavy thud.
The sound echoed through Wan Li's bones like a verdict.
Su Yan held her hand tightly, guiding her over the polished stone path. Wan Li barely lifted her feet. Her legs felt like paper. The clean air of the courtyard tasted strange after hours of smoke. Flowers bloomed along the walkway—orderly, fragrant, serene—so painfully at odds with the burning palace left behind.
Wan Li's throat tightened.
Her mother was gone.
She didn't look at the trees or lanterns. She didn't look at the servants watching her. She kept her gaze down, following Su Yan's shadow, one trembling step at a time.
A butler approached them, stiff-backed, wary.
"Madam Li has been informed," he said. "Follow me."
Wan Li flinched at his tone—formal, but cold. Cold like marble.
They entered the main hall.
It was grand and bright, filled with carved rosewood screens and porcelain vases. The sight should have impressed her, but Wan Li felt only numbness. Everything smelled unfamiliar.
Madam Li sat at the head of the room.
Beautiful.
Elegant.
Severe.
Her embroidered gown was immaculate despite the chaos the nation had fallen into. Her hair was pinned with pearls, her posture perfect. Her expression unmoving.
This was the woman her mother trusted.
The woman the late president believed capable of safeguarding the last princess.
Wan Li lowered her head.
"Madam Li…" Su Yan knelt deeply. "We beg refuge. Her Majesty the Empress Dowager commanded us to—"
Madam Li raised a hand.
"That will suffice. Stand."
Su Yan stood slowly, supporting Wan Li.
The older woman's gaze turned to the girl.
"You are Princess Wan Li?"
Wan Li's breath hitched.
She wanted to hide.
Her mother taught her modesty, obedience, silence—
but not how to speak to strangers after the world had fallen apart.
She managed a trembling nod.
Madam Li studied her, eyes narrowed as if calculating something.
"A child," she murmured. "And yet everything now rests on you."
Wan Li didn't understand.
She only tightened her grip on Su Yan's sleeve.
Madam Li exhaled slowly, folding her hands.
"The president—my husband—promised the Empress Dowager that your life would be protected should the dynasty fall. That promise was made before…" Her voice thinned for a moment. "Before he was killed."
Wan Li blinked, shocked.
Killed.
The president… assassinated.
Her mother had said so—but hearing it again made it real. Heavy. Terrifying.
Madam Li continued, her tone crisp and distant.
"Our household is in mourning. Our sons are grieving. Everything is chaotic. And now—on top of all this—we must also shelter you."
Wan Li's breath faltered.
She felt like a burden.
Like something unwanted.
Madam Li's eyes flicked to Su Yan.
"You two arrived with nothing but soot on your clothes," she said sharply. "Why should I believe you are who you claim? You could be impostors seeking advantage during the unrest."
Su Yan's back stiffened. "Madam, we fled with nothing because Her Majesty ensured only the Princess's survival. She disguised the Princess with her own hand—"
"Proof?" Madam Li demanded.
Su Yan reached into her sleeve.
Wan Li watched numbly as Su Yan retrieved a small, lacquered box—one of the tiny silk-wrapped bundles Ruyi had pressed into Wan Li's arms before pushing her out into the burning corridor.
Inside laid a single white jade pendant carved with the imperial emblem.
Madam Li inhaled sharply.
"That…" She touched her chest, composure cracking for the first time. She recognized that pendant belonged to the late emperor's private treasury… Few have ever seen it.
Wan Li looked down.
She didn't understand politics.
She didn't understand symbols.
All she knew was that it was her father's.
Her mother had said so before.
Madam Li regained her calm.
"Very well. You may stay."
Wan Li's shoulders sagged in quiet relief.
But the next words chilled her:
"You will not be treated as a princess here. That title holds no power outside the palace walls anymore. Until further notice, you will live quietly, modestly, and without drawing attention. My household cannot afford political storms."
Wan Li nodded instinctively—obedience was all she had.
Su Yan spoke softly, "Thank you, Madam Li. We will not cause trouble."
Madam Li waved a hand, already losing interest.
"You will be given a small room in the side courtyard. Someone will bring you washwater. Rest. You look… half-broken." Her voice softened just an inch. "Understand this: survival requires silence. If anyone from outside asks who you are, you are a distant relation seeking refuge. Nothing more."
Wan Li nodded quickly.
"Yes, Madam," she whispered, voice hoarse.
It was the first word she spoke since leaving the palace.
Madam Li's gaze flickered—she had expected more formality, perhaps—but she said nothing.
"Follow the servant. Your new life begins today."
--
THE SIDE COURTYARD
Their assigned room was small and dim.
A single narrow bed.
A wooden cabinet.
A basin.
A window overlooking a quiet path.
Su Yan closed the door gently.
"Miss Wan Li… you should lie down."
Wan Li stood still, hands limp at her sides.
Her mother was dead.
The palace was gone.
She was in a stranger's house, wearing a servant's clothing, with gold trinkets tied inside her sleeves like her mother's last blessings.
She sank to her knees.
Su Yan rushed forward. "Miss—!"
Wan Li buried her face into her palms.
Her sobs shook her entire frame—silent at first, then growing, shattering, breaking.
"Mother… Mother…"
Su Yan hugged her tightly, crying with her.
They stayed that way for a long time.
Only when exhaustion overtook her did Wan Li finally fall asleep on the thin mattress, still clutching Su Yan's hand.
--
The next day
Wan Li awoke to voices outside.
"…she arrived last night? At a time like this?"
"That's what I heard. Madam took her in."
"Is she really… that princess?"
"Who knows? Why would a princess come here? The dynasty is over."
The whispers stung.
Wan Li sat up slowly, her body stiff, as though grief had soaked into her bones.
Su Yan handed her a warm towel. "Miss… please wash your face. Today, we must present ourselves properly."
Wan Li rubbed her swollen eyes with trembling fingers.
"…Mother said to obey," she whispered.
Su Yan's eyes glistened, but she remained steady. "Yes, Miss. We will do just that."
PREPARATIONS
The small bundle of clothes left for them the night before lay folded neatly on the cabinet. Plain things—rough cotton in muted tones, far from the soft silks Wan Li had worn all her life.
Su Yan helped her change.
The simple dress felt strange on Wan Li's skin—itchier, heavier, unfamiliar.
She touched the coarse fabric, her throat tightening.
"Su Yan…" she whispered. "Will we… really have to wear these now?"
"Yes, Miss."
No explanation.
No comforting lie.
Wan Li nodded silently, swallowing down confusion and sorrow.
Su Yan carefully braided Wan Li's long black hair, then lowered her hands.
"You look… proper," she said softly.
Wan Li didn't feel proper.
She felt hollow.
Diminished.
Like a ghost of someone she used to be.
--
Just as Su Yan finished helping Wan Li get dressed, a knock sounded.
A young maid opened the door just enough to slip her face inside.
"Madam Li requests your presence."
Wan Li stiffened instantly.
Su Yan gently adjusted Wan Li's collar. "Miss… let us go."
Wan Li nodded, though her throat had closed up again. Her hands were cold, fingers trembling slightly.
They stepped into the courtyard.
Every servant they passed looked.
Some curious.
Some suspicious.
A few openly disdainful.
Wan Li kept her head bowed, exactly as her mother taught her.
Obedient.
Silent.
Unseen.
The maid led them toward the main residence, courtyards unfolding one after another. The air felt heavy. Wan Li's breaths grew thin.
At the threshold of the grand hall, the maid stopped.
"You may wait here. I will inform Madam."
Wan Li clasped her hands tightly, heart thudding so hard she felt it in her ears.
Su Yan leaned in and whispered, "Miss… whatever happens, just remember: we endure. We obey. For now—this is survival."
Wan Li nodded slowly.
The maid slipped inside, the doors closing behind her.
Wan Li and Su Yan stood alone in the shaded veranda—
waiting for the woman who now held their fate in her palm.
--
TBC