The Imperial Court of Luo was a monument to power.
Jade pillars carved with dragons rose toward a ceiling painted with celestial scenes. Officials in ranked robes stood in precise formation, their positions determined by generations of protocol. Incense burned in golden braziers, filling the air with sandalwood and authority.
At the far end, elevated on a platform of white marble, sat the Dragon Throne. And upon it, the Luo Emperor—a man in his fifties with sharp eyes that missed nothing and a smile that promised either favor or ruin, depending on his whim.
General Wei Qiang knelt before that throne, his head bowed, his armor bearing the dust of days' hard travel.
"General Wei," the Emperor's voice carried across the silent hall. Pleasant. Conversational. Dangerous. "We are pleased you answered Our summons so promptly. Though We must admit surprise at the... circumstances... that required it."
"Your Majesty honors this servant with his attention," Wei Qiang replied, his tone carefully neutral.
"Indeed. A battle at Longmen. Against Shen forces, no less. Quite the undertaking." The Emperor leaned forward slightly. "Tell Us, General—when exactly did We authorize military action against a nation with whom We have a peace treaty?"
The trap was already closing. Every official in the room could feel it.
"Your Majesty, the Shen forces laid siege to Longmen without provocation—"
"Without provocation?" The Emperor's eyebrow rose. "Or perhaps in search of something—or someone—that you possessed? We have heard... interesting rumors, General. About a certain princess. A fugitive from Shen justice."
Wei Qiang's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Your Majesty, I—"
"But We will discuss that shortly." The Emperor waved a hand dismissively. "First, tell Us about this battle. This strategy that somehow allowed your garrison to defeat a force three times your size." His eyes gleamed with calculation. "Such a victory suggests remarkable leadership. We assume your son—Wei Han, is it not?—played a significant role? After all, he is your heir, trained in your methods. Where is the young hero? We would very much like to meet him."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Wei Qiang's hands, hidden by his bowed posture, clenched into fists. The Emperor knew. Or suspected. Either way, this question was a blade aimed at the heart.
Before he could formulate a response that wouldn't condemn them both, the great doors of the throne room opened.
---
Five Days Earlier - Shen Palace
Gu Tianyu stood in what had once been Crown Prince Junwei's study, now converted to his own strategic command center. Maps covered every surface, marked with troop movements and supply lines. Reports lay stacked on the desk, awaiting his review.
An officer entered, bowing low. "Your Majesty, urgent news from Longmen."
"Speak."
"The siege has been broken. General Zhao's forces were... defeated. Significant casualties. The survivors have retreated back across the border."
Tianyu's expression didn't change. He simply stood there, looking at the map of Longmen, at the markers he'd placed showing where his forces should have crushed the undermanned garrison.
"Defeated," he repeated softly. "An army of three thousand, defeated by a garrison of less than one thousand. How... unexpected."
The officer shifted nervously. "General Zhao requests permission to regroup and launch another assault. With proper siege equipment this time, he's confident—"
"No."
"Your Majesty?"
Tianyu turned from the map, his dark eyes distant. Calculating. "Tell General Zhao to hold position at the border. Maintain a presence but do not engage. We will not waste more resources on a siege that has already failed."
"But Your Majesty, the princess—"
"The princess," Tianyu interrupted, his voice soft but sharp as a blade, "is exactly where I expected her to be. Cornered in Luo territory, with nowhere else to run." He moved to the window, looking out over the Shen capital. "No, we don't need to attack again. I have my ways."
After the officer departed, Tianyu stood alone in the study, his reflection ghostly in the window glass.
"I underestimated you, Yuelai," he murmured to that reflection. To the memory of a girl who'd once looked at him with trust and affection. "Your strategy at Longmen was... impressive. Almost worthy of your brother's teaching."
He touched the bandages still wrapped around his hands—the wounds from catching her desperate sword strike. They would scar. A permanent reminder of the moment she'd tried to kill him.
Good. He wanted the reminder.
"But how much longer can you survive there?" His voice was barely a whisper now. "The Luo Emperor is paranoid, suspicious of anyone with power. General Wei sheltering you will only confirm his fears. And when the pressure becomes too great, when you have nowhere left to turn..."
His hand closed into a fist.
"You'll have to come back to me in the end. No matter what."
---
Two Days Earlier - Longmen
The fortress was a city in mourning.
Three days had passed since the battle. Three days of funeral pyres and grief. The victory celebrations had been muted, overshadowed by the cost. Thirty-seven soldiers dead. Twice that many wounded. And among the fallen, the general's own son.
Yuelai sat in the room they'd given her, staring at nothing. She'd barely moved since they'd carried her back from the alley. The physician had re-stitched her shoulder, bandaged her other wounds, but those injuries were nothing compared to the weight crushing her chest.
Wei Han was dead because of her. Because of her strategy. Because she'd been too weak, too slow, too useless to save him despite trying.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face. Felt his blood on her hands. Heard his last words: Tell my father I chose this.
But choice didn't erase responsibility. He'd chosen to sacrifice himself because her plan required it. Because she'd designed a strategy that demanded someone die in that alley.
The door opened. Yuelai didn't look up. Didn't care who it was.
"You look terrible," a cheerful voice announced.
Yuelai glanced up reluctantly. A young woman stood in the doorway, perhaps twenty years old, with her father's serious eyes but a warmer expression. Wei Han's sister. Wei Ling.
"I'm fine," Yuelai said automatically, her voice hoarse from disuse.
"You're a terrible liar." Wei Ling entered without invitation, settling on the floor beside Yuelai's bed. "You haven't eaten in three days. Haven't left this room. Haven't spoken to anyone, including my father who's leaving for the capital tomorrow."
Tomorrow. The Emperor's summons. Another disaster waiting to happen.
"I'm thinking," Yuelai said weakly.
"You're drowning." Wei Ling's voice was gentle but firm. "Look, I understand. My brother died. You blame yourself. But sitting here destroying yourself won't bring him back, and it won't help my father face the Emperor."
"I know that—"
"Do you?" Wei Ling leaned forward. "Because from where I'm sitting, you look like you've already given up. Like you think you deserve to suffer. Well, guess what? Han wouldn't want that. He died so you could survive, and you're wasting it."
The words hit like physical blows. Yuelai wanted to argue, to explain that it wasn't that simple, but Wei Ling was already talking again, her tone shifting to something lighter.
"You know, when Han and I were children, we used to play this game where we'd imagine what the capital looked like. Neither of us had ever been there, so we made up these ridiculous stories. I said the palace walls were made of solid gold. He insisted the Emperor rode a dragon to court."
Despite everything, Yuelai felt a flicker of something—not quite amusement, but recognition. She remembered playing similar games with Junwei.
"Father always promised he'd take us someday," Wei Ling continued, her voice softening. "To see the capital, to attend a proper court gathering. But we never got the chance. Border duty doesn't allow for pleasure trips, and Father couldn't leave his post. So Han and I... we never went. We never even left Longmen, really."
Yuelai's attention sharpened. "What?"
"Well, Han went on patrol routes, obviously. But to the capital? To meet the Emperor?" Wei Ling shook her head. "Never. Father always said there'd be time later, when things were more stable. When—" Her voice caught. "When Han was older and ready to take command."
The words were still hanging in the air when Yuelai stood up so abruptly she swayed with dizziness.
"What did you just say?" Her voice was urgent, intense.
Wei Ling blinked, startled. "That... Han never went to the capital?"
"Never? Not even once? Your father never presented him at court?"
"No. Why would—" Wei Ling's eyes widened as she saw the expression on Yuelai's face. "What are you thinking?"
But Yuelai was already moving, heading for the door with renewed purpose. For the first time in three days, the crushing weight of despair had lifted enough to let her breathe. To let her think.
If Wei Han had never been to the capital, had never been presented at court, then the Emperor had never seen him. The officials had never met him. No one there knew what General Wei Qiang's son actually looked like.
She found her uncle in the strategy room, surrounded by reports and looking like he'd aged ten years in three days. He looked up as she burst in, surprise flickering across his exhausted features.
"Yuelai—"
"I have a plan," she said breathlessly. "Uncle, I know how to protect you. How to explain everything to the Emperor without revealing that you sheltered me."
Wei Qiang set down the report he'd been reading. "I'm listening."
"Wei Han never went to the capital. The Emperor has never seen him, never met him."
Understanding dawned slowly in her uncle's eyes. Then shock. Then something that might have been horror or hope—she couldn't tell which.
"No," he said immediately. "Absolutely not. It's too dangerous—"
"It's the only way." Yuelai moved to the table, her hands pressed flat against the maps. "The Emperor is suspicious of you. He thinks you're conspiring with Shen, that you sacrificed your own son for some political game. But if Wei Han appears at court alive, takes responsibility for the battle, explains the strategy..."
"You want to impersonate my dead son in front of the Emperor of Luo." Wei Qiang's voice was flat with disbelief.
"I want to save you," Yuelai corrected. "You've already lost Han. I won't let you lose everything else because of me."
"Yuelai, if you're discovered—"
"Then I'm no worse off than I am now. Tianyu wants me dead or imprisoned. The Emperor here will likely hand me over to maintain the peace treaty. At least this way, I'm doing something useful before that happens."
Wei Qiang stared at her for a long moment. Then he sank into a chair, suddenly looking every year of his age.
"You're as stubborn as your mother," he said quietly. "And as brave as your brother."
"Is that a yes?"
"It's an acknowledgment that you'll do this whether I agree or not." He looked up at her, and for the first time she saw her mother in his features—not just the physical resemblance, but the same fierce protectiveness. "But if we do this, we do it properly. You'll need to know everything about Han. His mannerisms, his way of speaking, his history..."
"Then teach me," Yuelai said. "We have until tomorrow."
They worked through the night. Wei Ling joined them, sharing memories and details only a sister would know. By dawn, Yuelai could mimic Wei Han's formal speech patterns, his military bearing, his careful way of considering questions before answering.
She couldn't become him. Not truly. But she could become enough of him to survive one audience with an emperor who'd never met the real Wei Han.
She hoped.
---
Present Day - Luo Imperial Court
"Where is the young hero?" the Emperor asked again, his voice sharp with impatience. "We would very much like to meet him."
The great doors opened.
A young man entered the throne room, moving with military precision despite the travel-worn state of his uniform. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his face partially obscured by the formal helmet officers wore at court. He walked with the confidence of someone who'd earned his rank through skill, not birth.
Wei Han—or what everyone in that room believed to be Wei Han—approached the throne and knelt beside his father.
The Emperor's eyes narrowed, studying the newcomer with predatory interest.
"So," he said slowly. "You are General Wei's son."
"This humble servant greets Your Majesty." The voice was masculine, steady. Respectful but not cowering. "I am Wei Han, son of General Wei Qiang."
Beside her, Yuelai felt her uncle's tension radiating like heat. But they'd planned for this. Practiced every word, every gesture. She just had to stay calm, stay in character, and get through this audience.
"Rise," the Emperor commanded.
They both stood. Yuelai kept her eyes respectfully lowered, maintained the rigid military posture Wei Ling had drilled into her. Everything about her appearance was calculated—the binding around her chest, the padding in her uniform to broaden her shoulders, the way she'd styled her hair under the helmet.
"General Wei," the Emperor said, not taking his eyes off "Wei Han." "You were about to explain why you engaged Shen forces without authorization."
Before Wei Qiang could respond, Yuelai stepped forward.
"Your Majesty," she said, her voice pitched lower, rougher than her natural tone. "If this servant may speak?"
The Emperor's eyebrow rose. "You wish to speak in your father's place?"
"I wish to take responsibility for my actions, Your Majesty." Yuelai bowed deeply. "The battle at Longmen—the strategy, the decision to engage—that was my doing. I ask Your Majesty's forgiveness for my rudeness in acting without imperial approval."
Murmurs rippled through the court. Wei Qiang remained silent, though she could feel his disapproval radiating like a physical force.
"Your doing?" The Emperor leaned forward, intrigued. "Explain."
"When the Shen forces laid siege to Longmen, we faced a choice: wait for reinforcements that might not come, or act decisively to protect the city." Yuelai kept her tone measured, logical. "The siege could not be sustained. Our supplies were adequate but not infinite. And more critically—" she paused, as Wei Ling had taught her, letting the tension build "—if we lost Longmen, it would raise questions."
"Questions?" The Emperor's voice was sharp. "What questions?"
"Questions about whether Your Majesty's power extended to the borders. Whether the throne could protect its people." Yuelai raised her head slightly, meeting the Emperor's eyes with carefully calculated boldness. "The Shen Empire broke the peace treaty by attacking us. If we fell without resistance, it would suggest weakness. Not in our garrison—but in the empire itself."
The throne room fell silent. Every official present understood what "Wei Han" was really saying: I fought to protect your reputation, Your Majesty. To prevent your enemies from using our defeat against you.
It was a dangerous gambit. Implying the Emperor needed protection could be taken as insult. But it also offered him a narrative—one where the unauthorized battle became a loyal subject defending his sovereign's honor.
The Emperor studied "Wei Han" for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then, surprisingly, he smiled.
"You are really something, aren't you?" The tone was almost admiring. "Clever. Bold. Perhaps too bold for your own good."
He stood, and every person in the room tensed. The Emperor descending from his throne was never a good sign.
"Tell Us, General Wei," the Emperor said, circling around them like a hunting cat. "What do you need to properly defend Longmen? Since your son fought so brilliantly to protect Our reputation, We should support his efforts. Shouldn't We?"
Wei Qiang's voice was carefully neutral. "Your Majesty is generous. Longmen sustained damage during the siege. We require additional soldiers to man the walls properly, and resources to repair the fortifications."
"Of course, of course. Soldiers. Resources." The Emperor waved his hand dismissively. Then he stopped directly in front of "Wei Han," his eyes boring into hers. "And in return for this generosity, We think it only fair that your talented son serve Us more directly."
Yuelai's blood ran cold.
"There is a vacant position," the Emperor continued, his smile never wavering. "Military Inspector. A prestigious role, reporting directly to the throne. It would allow your son to use his obvious strategic talents in service of the empire." He paused, letting the implications sink in. "We think Wei Han would be perfect for it."
The trap had been sprung.
Military Inspector meant staying in the capital. Under the Emperor's direct supervision. A hostage in all but name, ensuring Wei Qiang's continued loyalty and preventing any possibility of rebellion.
Refuse, and the Emperor would know something was wrong. Accept, and "Wei Han" would be trapped here, unable to leave, eventually discovered.
Wei Qiang's face had gone pale. "Your Majesty, my son's place is at Longmen, learning to command—"
"Your son's place," the Emperor interrupted, his voice cold steel wrapped in silk, "is where We decree it to be. Unless you're suggesting that your family's desires supersede imperial command?"
The silence was suffocating. Every official in the room watched, waiting to see if General Wei would commit treason by refusing. Waiting to see if the Emperor would order his arrest.
Wei Qiang's hands clenched into fists. His jaw worked as if he wanted to speak but couldn't find words that wouldn't condemn them both.
And Yuelai—standing there in her dead cousin's uniform, wearing his name like armor—understood with perfect clarity that there was no good choice. No escape. No clever strategy that would save them this time.
She could refuse. Expose herself. Save her uncle from this trap by revealing the deception.
Or she could accept. Become Wei Han completely. Stay in the capital as the Emperor's hostage, living every day with the knowledge that one mistake, one moment of carelessness, would mean death for herself and ruin for her uncle.
The Emperor was watching her. Waiting. That smile still playing at his lips.
Wei Qiang looked at her, his eyes pleading. Don't do this. Don't sacrifice yourself again.
But she'd already made her choice. The moment Wei Han died in her arms. The moment she'd promised to make his death mean something.
Yuelai stepped forward, her voice steady despite the terror coursing through her veins—
---
END OF CHAPTER 7