The Palace did not sleep that night.
Even as lanterns dimmed and corridors quieted, guards doubled their patrols, whispers traveled faster than footsteps, and shadows lingered where none should.
Inside the medical chamber, the air smelled of bitter herbs and iron.
Xin Ying lay still, her right eye wrapped in thick white bandages. Each breath sent a dull ache through her skull, but she forced herself to remain awake.
Pain means I'm alive, she told herself.
The Empress had not left her side.
Li Hua sat beside the bed, hands folded tightly in her lap, her expression composed—but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her calm. She watched the rise and fall of Xin Ying's chest as if afraid it might stop.
"You should rest," Li Yuetong said quietly from the far side of the room.
Li Hua did not look away. "Later."
Li Yuetong sighed but said nothing more.
Time passed slowly.
Xin Ying shifted, her fingers brushing the edge of the blanket. The movement drew Li Hua's attention immediately.
"You're awake," the Empress said softly.
"Yes," Xin Ying replied. Her voice was weak, but steady.
Li Hua leaned closer. "Does it hurt?"
"It does," Xin Ying admitted. "But I can endure it."
Something flickered in the Empress's eyes.
"You shouldn't have had to," Li Hua said.
Xin Ying smiled faintly. "I'm glad I noticed him."
Silence fell.
Li Yuetong crossed her arms. "The assassin was killed during interrogation."
Xin Ying's visible eye darkened slightly. "So we won't know who sent him."
Li Yuetong did not answer—but her silence was the answer.
Later, when the physician returned to check Xin Ying's condition, Li Hua finally stood.
"I will return at dawn," the Empress said. "Guard her well."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
As the Empress left, Xin Ying closed her eye briefly.
She stayed, Xin Ying thought. The novel never mentioned that.
When the room finally quieted, Xin Ying was left alone.
That was when the thoughts came.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
She remembered the novel clearly. The assassination attempt. The blade. The arrest.
But—
I wasn't supposed to be injured.
Certainly not like this.
Her hand lifted slowly to the bandage covering her right eye.
Gone.
Why my eye? she wondered. Why something the story never took?
A chill crept through her spine.
Is this the price for changing fate?
She remembered coughing blood when she tried to explain how she noticed the assassin. The sudden pain—as if something inside her had silenced her.
The story won't let me speak about itself.
The realization settled heavily in her chest.
I can change events, she thought. But I can't explain why. And every change… demands payment.
Her eye throbbed again, as if answering her thoughts.
Elsewhere in the Palace, a quiet laugh echoed.
Ling Zhihao stood by the window, watching torchlight move along the walls. His hands were clasped behind his back, posture relaxed.
"So," he murmured, "she survived."
A subordinate knelt behind him. "The Empress favors her."
Ling Zhihao smiled thinly. "Of course she does."
His eyes gleamed.
"But fate always collects its debt," he said softly. "Let us see how much she can afford to lose."
The following days blurred together.
Xin Ying learned to move with half her vision gone.
At first, she misjudged distance. Reached for cups that weren't there. Turned too sharply.
Frustration burned quietly—but she swallowed it.
I adapted once, she reminded herself. I can adapt again.
Li Yuetong visited often, bringing reports and dry humor.
"You're alive," she said once. "That's already a victory."
The Empress visited even more.
Sometimes she spoke. Sometimes she simply sat, reading or working nearby. Once, she adjusted Xin Ying's blanket without realizing she'd done it.
Xin Ying noticed.
She always noticed.
She's warmer than the novel ever said, Xin Ying thought.
One evening, as dusk painted the sky outside the window, Li Hua finally spoke.
"You saved my life," the Empress said quietly. "I will not forget it."
Xin Ying met her gaze. "I didn't do it for reward."
"I know," Li Hua replied.
Their eyes held.
Something unspoken passed between them.
Trust.
Or perhaps—recognition.
Xin Ying exhaled slowly.
The story had changed.
The Empress was alive.
Xin Ying was alive.
But the cost was written into her body.
And somewhere in the Palace, someone was already waiting to see what fate would demand next.
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Thank you for reading my novel