Yuelai's throat was dry as she stepped forward, but her voice came out steady. Clear.
"This servant is honored by Your Majesty's trust."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence accepted with grace. She kept her head bowed, her posture military-straight, everything about her screaming loyalty and obedience even as her heart hammered against her ribs.
The Emperor's smile widened. Not warmth—satisfaction. Like a hunter watching prey walk willingly into his trap.
"Excellent." He turned to address the court, his voice carrying to every corner of the vast hall. "Let it be known that Wei Han, son of General Wei Qiang, is hereby appointed Military Inspector, effective immediately. He will report directly to the throne on all matters concerning military conduct and loyalty."
The officials murmured their acknowledgment, the sound like wind through dead leaves.
"Court is dismissed." The Emperor's gesture was casual, already turning his attention to other matters. "Chen, escort our new Military Inspector to Qingfeng Residence. See that he has everything he requires."
An elderly servant stepped forward from the shadows near the throne. His face was a mask of professional neutrality, but his eyes—sharp and assessing—studied Yuelai with uncomfortable intensity.
"This way, Inspector Wei," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "If you would follow me."
Yuelai glanced once at her uncle. Wei Qiang's face was carefully blank, but she saw the tension in his jaw, the way his hands remained clenched at his sides. He couldn't speak to her here, couldn't warn her or offer comfort. They were being watched too closely.
She turned and followed the servant out of the throne room.
They passed through the palace complex and out through the eastern gates into the capital city proper on horses . The streets here were wide and well-maintained, lined with the residences of high-ranking officials and wealthy nobles. This was the administrative quarter—close enough to the palace for convenience, but outside its walls. A place where power lived, but not royalty.
Chen led her down a quieter street, away from the main thoroughfares. The residences here were older, their architecture elegant but slightly faded. Prestigious addresses that had somehow fallen out of favor.
They stopped before a walled compound. Two stories, traditional architecture, with elegant eaves and carved wooden doors visible beyond the entrance gate. Beautiful, in a melancholy way. Like a tomb dressed up as a home.
A young servant girl waited by the entrance. She couldn't have been more than sixteen, with a round face and eyes that darted nervously between Yuelai and the residence behind her.
"This is Qingfeng Residence," Chen announced. "It has traditionally housed the Military Inspector. Lian here will serve as your personal attendant." He gestured to the girl, who bobbed a hasty curtsy. "She will ensure your quarters are properly maintained and attend to any needs you may have."
The old man studied her for a moment longer, something unreadable flickering in his expression. Then he bowed slightly and departed, his footsteps fading into the afternoon quiet.
Yuelai was left standing before Qingfeng Residence with a servant girl who looked like she might burst into tears at any moment.
"Shall we—" Yuelai started to say.
The girl flinched. Actually flinched, as if Yuelai had raised a hand to strike her.
Yuelai stopped. Gentled her voice. "Is something wrong?"
"N-no, Inspector Wei. Nothing at all." But Lian's hands were trembling as she pushed open the residence doors. "Please, come inside. I'll show you to your quarters."
The interior of Qingfeng Residence was spacious and well-appointed. Furniture of dark wood, scrolls depicting mountains and rivers, floors so clean they reflected the afternoon light. Everything proper and correct and somehow deeply unsettling in its perfection.
Lian led her through a sitting room, a small library, a dining area. Her steps were quick, nervous, as if she wanted to complete this tour and flee as fast as possible.
They climbed stairs to the second floor. The bedroom was large, with a bed draped in blue silk, a writing desk positioned to catch the morning light, and windows overlooking a private garden. It should have been peaceful. Comfortable.
Instead, it felt like a beautiful cage.
"The—" Lian's voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. "The room will be fully prepared by evening. Fresh linens, water for washing, anything you require. If you need me, just ring the bell on your desk and I'll come immediately."
She was already backing toward the door.
"Wait." Yuelai caught the girl's arm—gently, but firmly enough to stop her retreat. "Lian, isn't it?"
The girl nodded, her eyes wide with something that looked uncomfortably like fear.
"What's wrong? And please—" Yuelai released her arm, softening her tone further "—don't tell me 'nothing.' You've been terrified since I arrived."
Lian's lower lip trembled. She looked at the door, clearly weighing whether to bolt. Then, in a rush, as if the words had been damming up inside her: "It's just rumors, Inspector. Stupid servant gossip. I shouldn't—"
"What rumors?"
"About... about this residence." Lian's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "About the Military Inspectors who lived here before."
Yuelai felt cold settle into her bones. "What about them?"
"They all died." The words tumbled out faster now, as if saying them quickly would make them less terrible. "Every single one. The last Inspector—he was found in his bed three months ago, no wounds, no signs of illness, just... dead. And before him, Inspector Feng fell from the second-floor window. Before that, Inspector Liu was discovered in the garden with his throat slit, but the guards swore no one entered or left the residence that night."
The room suddenly felt much colder.
"How many?" Yuelai asked quietly.
"Five Military Inspectors in the past three years." Lian's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "They say this place is cursed. That the position itself is cursed. That whatever spirit haunts Qingfeng Residence won't rest until—" She stopped, pressing her hand to her mouth.
"Until what?"
"Until it claims every Military Inspector the Emperor appoints." Lian looked at Yuelai with something like pity. "I'm sorry, Inspector Wei. I shouldn't have said anything. It's just... you seem kind. And I don't want..." She trailed off, unable to finish.
Yuelai released a slow breath. Five dead inspectors. All mysterious circumstances. And the Emperor had just appointed her—a person he suspected but couldn't quite prove was hiding something—to this position.
Either remarkable coincidence, or a very deliberate trap.
"Thank you for telling me," Yuelai said. "Truly. I'd rather know what I'm walking into."
Lian bobbed another curtsy, clearly relieved to be dismissed. She fled the room with barely concealed haste, her footsteps quick on the stairs.
Alone in the bedroom of Qingfeng Residence, Yuelai moved to the window. The street below was quiet in the late afternoon, with only the occasional servant or official passing by. No spirits. No obvious threats. Just an ordinary street in the capital's administrative quarter.
But she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Of invisible eyes tracking her every movement.
Five dead inspectors.
She needed to leave. Just for a few hours. Needed to see her uncle before he left tomorrow, needed to not be trapped in this beautiful, haunted residence for one more moment.
Yuelai changed quickly, strapping on her sword and making her way back through the residence. Lian was nowhere to be seen—probably hiding in the servants' quarters. The compound's gate was unguarded—inspectors were trusted to come and go freely—and the streets were busy enough that no one paid attention to one more official in uniform.
The city sprawled around her, vibrant and alive in the fading daylight. Yuelai had memorized the name of the inn where her uncle was staying—the Golden Phoenix, located in the merchant quarter not far from the administrative district.
She found it easily—a respectable establishment catering to travelers who had money but not noble status. Wei Qiang had chosen well—anonymous enough to avoid attention, but comfortable enough to not raise suspicions about why a general would stay somewhere less appropriate to his rank.
The innkeeper directed her to a room on the second floor without question. Yuelai knocked once, then entered before waiting for a response.
Wei Qiang stood by the window, still in his formal court robes, staring out at the street below. He turned sharply at her entrance, his hand moving instinctively toward his sword before recognition stopped him.
"Yuelai." Relief and worry warred across his features. "Are you alright?"
"For now." She closed the door behind her. "The Emperor appointed me Military Inspector. I'm to report to the office tomorrow."
"I know. I heard the announcement." Wei Qiang moved toward her, his expression grim. "This is a dangerous position, Yuelai. Military Inspectors report directly to the Emperor on matters of loyalty and treason. You'll be investigating other officials, rooting out corruption, watching for signs of rebellion. It puts you at the center of every political conflict in the empire."
"I know."
"And worse—" he hesitated, then continued "—the position has a reputation. Five inspectors have died in the past three years. The palace staff whisper about curses and hauntings, but anyone with sense knows the truth. Someone is killing Military Inspectors. Systematically. And the Emperor either can't or won't stop it."
"I've been warned about that too." Yuelai met her uncle's eyes. "But what choice did I have? Refuse the appointment and expose us both? At least this way, you're safe. You can return to Longmen with your soldiers and resources. The Emperor got his hostage—he has no more reason to suspect you."
Wei Qiang's jaw tightened. "You can't seriously intend to stay here. To live as Wei Han indefinitely. Eventually someone will discover the truth—"
"Then I'll deal with that when it happens." Yuelai's voice was firm. "But for now, this is the only way to protect you. To honor Wei Han's sacrifice. I won't waste it by running away at the first sign of danger."
Before her uncle could argue further, the door to the adjoining room opened.
Wei Ling stood in the doorway, still in travel clothes, her hair pulled back in a practical braid. She looked between them, reading the tension in the air.
"She's really going to do this, isn't she?" Wei Ling said to her father. "Stay in the capital. Pretend to be Han."
"It seems so."
Wei Ling studied Yuelai for a long moment. Then she turned to her father. "Let me stay with her."
"What?" Both Yuelai and Wei Qiang spoke simultaneously.
"Let me stay in the capital. With Yuelai." Wei Ling's expression was determined. "She'll need help. Someone to watch her back, to help maintain the disguise. And—" her voice softened slightly "—I think we both need this. I just lost my brother. She lost her brother, her family, everything. At least together we won't be alone."
"Absolutely not," Yuelai said immediately. "It's too dangerous. If I'm discovered, you could be implicated—"
"I'm already implicated." Wei Ling crossed her arms. "I helped you prepare for the court appearance. I taught you how to move like Han, how to speak like him. If you're caught, they'll trace it back to me regardless. At least this way I can be useful instead of sitting in Longmen worrying."
"She has a point," Wei Qiang said reluctantly.
"Uncle—"
"Yuelai, you need someone. Not just for practical help, but..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "You've been carrying everything alone since you escaped Shen. The grief, the guilt, the fear. Wei Ling knows medicine—she can tend your wounds when they inevitably reopen. She knows the family well enough to help you maintain the disguise. And honestly?" His expression softened. "I think you need family. Someone who isn't watching you with suspicion or fear. Someone who's simply... there."
Yuelai wanted to argue. Wanted to insist that she work alone, that she wouldn't risk anyone else. But the truth was, her uncle was right. The thought of spending months—possibly years—alone in that haunted residence, constantly on guard, constantly pretending...
"It's dangerous," she said again, but her resistance was crumbling.
"Everything is dangerous now." Wei Ling moved to stand beside her. "At least let me be dangerous with you."
Wei Qiang sighed, looking between the two young women. His daughter and his niece. All that remained of his immediate family.
"Very well," he said finally. "Wei Ling, you'll stay as Inspector Wei's assistant. Or companion. Some role that explains your presence without drawing too much attention." He looked at Yuelai. "But both of you—please. Be careful. The capital is full of vipers who smile while preparing to strike. Trust no one completely. Watch everything. And if the danger becomes too great—"
"We'll find a way out," Yuelai promised.
But even as she said it, she wondered if that was true. Or if she'd just walked into a trap that would slowly close around her until escape became impossible.
---
The next morning, Yuelai left Qingfeng Residence early and made her way to the palace complex. The Office of Military Inspection was located in the administrative wing—a separate building from the main palace, but still within the secured grounds where government business was conducted.
The building was imposing—three stories of gray stone with narrow windows and guards posted at every entrance. It sat among other government offices but somehow apart from them. Isolated. Like no one wanted to be too close to the people who investigated treason.
Wei Ling had insisted on coming along, carrying a bag of supplies and wearing the simple robes of a minor official's assistant. They'd agreed on a story: Wei Ling was Inspector Wei's cousin, serving as his clerk and aide. Close enough to the truth to be believable, distant enough to not raise questions about impropriety.
The guards at the entrance saluted as Yuelai approached. She returned the gesture with Wei Han's precise military bearing and stepped inside.
The interior was as cold as the exterior promised. Stone floors that echoed with every footstep. Walls covered with maps and charts tracking troop movements, supply lines, official appointments. Everything organized with meticulous precision.
A dozen officials worked at desks arranged in neat rows, most of them older men with the weathered look of career bureaucrats. They all looked up as Yuelai entered.
For a moment, no one moved. They simply stared, taking in the new Military Inspector. Judging. Assessing.
Then, as one, they rose and bowed.
"Inspector Wei," the eldest said, his voice formal. "We are honored to serve under your command."
The words were correct. Respectful. But there was something in the way they looked at her—a mixture of pity and calculation that made her skin crawl.
They knew about the curse. About the dead inspectors. They were already wondering how long this one would last.
Yuelai straightened her shoulders and met their gazes one by one. Let them see confidence. Strength. Someone who wouldn't be cowed by superstition or threats.
"Thank you," she said. "I look forward to working with all of you. Now, if someone could show me to my office and brief me on current investigations, we can begin."
An official in his forties stepped forward. "Of course, Inspector. This way."
The morning passed in a blur of briefings and introductions. The Office of Military Inspection oversaw a staggering amount of information—reports from every garrison in the empire, investigations into officials suspected of corruption, surveillance of noble families who might pose threats to the throne.
It was overwhelming. And terrifying. Because Yuelai realized with cold clarity that if anyone in this office decided to investigate her—to look too closely at "Wei Han's" background, to verify his identity with people who'd actually known him—the deception would crumble in days.
She'd walked into the heart of the empire's intelligence apparatus disguised as a dead man. One mistake, one inconsistency, and she was finished.
By mid day, Yuelai's head was pounding. She dismissed her staff for lunch, retreating to the private office that came with her position. Wei Ling followed, closing the door behind them.
"This is insane," Wei Ling said quietly. "Do you realize how many ways this could go wrong?"
"I've counted at least fifty so far." Yuelai sank into the chair behind her new desk—heavy, imposing, clearly designed to intimidate whoever sat across from it. "But we're committed now. All we can do is be careful and hope—"
A knock interrupted her.
"Enter," Yuelai called, forcing her voice back to Wei Han's lower register.
A young messenger stepped inside, bowing quickly. "Inspector Wei, this just arrived for you." He held out a sealed scroll, the paper expensive, the wax seal bearing a symbol Yuelai didn't recognize.
She took it, turning the scroll in her hands. The seal was elaborate—a phoenix in flight, rendered in intricate detail. Official. Important.
"Who sent this?" she asked.
"Prince Luo Zhenge, Inspector." The messenger's voice held a note of nervousness. "He requests your presence at his residence this afternoon."
The room went very still.
Wei Ling's eyes widened. Across the desk, Yuelai felt her carefully maintained composure crack slightly.
"Prince Zhenge?" she repeated, buying time to think.
"Yes, Inspector. He serves as head of the Censorate." The messenger shifted uncomfortably. "It's... unusual for Military Inspectors to be summoned directly to a prince's residence. Normally all reports go through the Emperor. But the prince specifically requested you attend him this afternoon at the hour of the goat."
The Censorate. The empire's investigative and oversight body, tasked with rooting out corruption and ensuring officials served the throne faithfully. And Prince Zhenge headed it.
Which meant he had access to information. Resources. The ability to investigate anyone he chose.
Including a newly appointed Military Inspector who'd appeared from nowhere.
Yuelai broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. The calligraphy was elegant, confident:
Inspector Wei Han,
Your presence is requested at the Residence of Reflected Virtue this afternoon at the hour of the goat. There are matters concerning your new position that require discussion.
Prince Luo Zhenge
Head of the Censorate
Short. Direct. And utterly terrifying in its implications.
"Shall I inform the prince you'll attend, Inspector?" the messenger asked.
Yuelai's mind raced. Refuse a prince's summons? Impossible. But accepting meant walking into another trap, meeting with someone who had every resource needed to discover her deception.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, a memory stirred. A man in black. A phoenix tattoo. A voice saying: You're safe now.
The same symbol on this seal.
"Tell Prince Zhenge," Yuelai said carefully, rolling the scroll closed, "that I will attend as requested."
The messenger bowed and departed, leaving Yuelai and Wei Ling alone in the sudden silence.
"What are you going to do?" Wei Ling whispered.
Yuelai stared at the scroll in her hands, at the phoenix seal, and felt the trap closing tighter.
"I'm going to meet a prince," she said quietly. "And pray he doesn't recognize me."
---
END OF CHAPTER 8