Morning broke with quiet defiance, golden sunlight spilling through the lattice windows and catching on delicate specks of dust in Xue Lian's room.
She was already awake, seated at her vanity with a brush in hand, long hair cascading like ink down her back.
Hongyu entered, a little breathless. "You're awake already?" the maid blinked. "The other girls are still snoring."
"I'm not like the other girls," Xue Lian said softly, eyes on her reflection. "Let them race. I prefer to arrive prepared."
The Ministry of Rites was holding the official assessment for Selection candidates. Nobles from every corner of the capital were sending their most polished daughters. But polish, Xue Lian knew, didn't mean strength. A polished sword still broke.
She wore white silk embroidered with pale peonies—subtle, elegant, and quiet. No bright crimson, no flamboyant hairpins. Just a single jade piece in her hair.
Hongyu hesitated. "Sister Yan will dress like a peacock."
"Then let her," Xue Lian murmured. "Some birds sing to hide their fear."
Hongyu helped her fasten the final clasp with trembling fingers. "Miss, are you certain you wish to go today? After… last night?"
Xue Lian adjusted her sleeves calmly. "Yes. What better place to bait a viper than where she believes herself safest? Besides not going will mean forfeiting."
Hongyu's brows knit. "But Lady Xue Yan—"
"—Will not dare strike in public." A slow smile tugged at Xue Lian's lips. "At least, not with witnesses."
She lifted a delicate parcel from her vanity. Wrapped inside was the note from last night. Not the original, of course—she had burned that already. This was a copy, meant for another set of eyes entirely.
As she stepped out of her quarters, two things trailed behind her: the scent of garden peonies... and a plan already in motion.
Down in the courtyard, the other Xue daughters were already waiting, flitting around Xue Yan. Her robe shimmered in bold sapphire, her hair piled high with silver combs. She turned at the sound of footsteps—then stilled.
A flicker of something crossed her face before her smile returned.
"You chose white?" Xue Yan said, her voice tinged with amusement. "Bold. Most girls would avoid such a color so early in the season."
Xue Lian returned a gentle bow. "Good morning, Elder Sister. I was simply inspired by the harmony of court. It reminded me of how much I've neglected my duties as a noble daughter."
"Ah," Xue Yan mused. "You always did enjoy pretending to be docile. Though I suppose even a fox wears sheep's wool now and then."
The other girls stifled their laughter.
Xue Lian only smiled. "Of course. And a snake sheds its skin when the weather turns."
Xue Yan's eyes narrowed—just a flicker—but Xue Lian caught it. She stepped closer and handed the parcel to Xue Yan, careful and quiet.
"What's this?" her sister asked.
"A gift," Xue Lian said. "A little something I found tucked inside my window last night. I thought you might recognize the handwriting."
Xue Yan went rigid. For a moment, the courtyard hushed, tension laced through the air like the finest thread.
Then Xue Yan laughed. "You jest too often, Sister. Is this your attempt at drama? Shall I applaud?"
Xue Lian leaned in just enough that only her sister could hear her whisper: "Try again. Next time, send someone who doesn't trip over flower pots."
Xue Yan paled.
She forced a smile but before she could talk, The Steward bowed to them. "The carriages are ready, ladies."
Their father appeared, nodding to both. "Compose yourselves. Today, you carry the Xue name into the Palace."
---
The Ministry of Rites loomed with quiet menace. Red pillars stretched to the sky, golden tiles glinted above, and robed clerks waited inside like judges of fate.
The hall was filled with the rustling of silk and the careful stillness of noble daughters rehearsing every breath.
When Xue Lian's name was called, she stepped forward with poise, her soft slippers silent against the polished floor.
The clerk didn't glance up. "Name?"
"Xue Lian."
"Age?"
"Nineteen."
"Education?"
"Taught by my late mother till age eight. Later by Madame Li of South Hall. I read the Classics, write poetry, and play both guqin and xiao."
Now, the clerk looked up. "And your view on a palace woman's duty?"
Xue Lian met his gaze directly. "To serve with wisdom, speak only when necessary, and observe everything. Even silk can hide steel."
There was a moment of silence. Then the clerk dipped his brush in ink and wrote without a word.
---
Above, in the gallery, Minister Wei, the Crown prince's most trusted advisor leaned toward Lord Shen Jingyuan. "That one," he whispered, "Xue Lian. Not the usual sort."
Shen Jingyuan said nothing, his sharp gaze following her figure as she moved away from the desk.
"She's clever," Minister Wei added. "The kind who calculates before she speaks. The Prince might like that."
Shen Jingyuan's voice was low. "Or hate it."
"True. But either way, she's a piece worth watching."
---
By noon, Xue Lian had already threaded her real trap—courtesy of a carefully placed whisper to the Chancellor's granddaughter about a false rumor involving Xue Yan, a missing brocade roll, and a certain scandal-prone palace maid.
It was enough.
Before the day ended, three noble daughters had turned cool toward Xue Yan. One even refused to lend her silks, citing a need to "be more discerning with friends."
Xue Lian didn't smile as she walked past.
She didn't need to.
The day had been sewn shut—with silk, and strategy.
--
Back in the Xue household, Xue Yan's face was calm, but her hands trembled as she tore the seal from a message scroll.
"She impressed them," her maid whispered. "Even Lord Shen looked at her twice."
Xue Yan slammed the scroll against her desk.
"She thinks she's untouchable." She turned, her voice low and cold. "Send word to Aunt Mei. It's time she reminds dear Sister Lian how dangerous favor can be."
---
In her own room, Xue Lian leaned over her writing table, a candle burning beside her. Hongyu sat nearby, peeling chestnuts with shaking hands.
"She's angry," Hongyu said. "I heard she went to see Aunt Mei right after returning."
Xue Lian pressed a wax seal to a letter. "Let her. Desperation leads to noise. And I like knowing where the snakes are."
"You aren't afraid?"
Xue Lian smiled softly. "Fear is a luxury I left behind." She added quietly "in my last life."
She turned the sealed scroll in her fingers. "The court is just another battlefield, Hongyu. And I've already died once. This time—I win."