Chapter 2 — The True Heiress Reads Fates

He vaulted down from the windowsill with the feather-light grace of a phantom, yet the exertion caught up with him, causing him to lean heavily against the corner of the table and cough twice. A quiet scowl crossed my features. His illness was no mere fabrication. A faint, clinical chill clung to him, masking the sharp, medicinal stench of bitter brews beneath. Deeper still, buried beneath layers of decay, lingered the unmistakable scent of a rotting death-breath—much like damp timber entombed in drifted snow for centuries. I stepped forward, sliding my fingers across his wrist to take his pulse. Xie Linyan lowered his gaze, his lips curving into a slow, mocking smirk.

"Are maidens of the capital always so forward?"

I ignored his idle provocation. His pulse beat with a monstrous duality, flickering erratically between the realm of the living and the abyss of the dead. Though his vital qi was dangerously depleted, a venomous aura coiled tightly around his heart, ruthlessly suppressing his life-fire and devouring his remaining vitality inch by inch. My expression darkened instantly.

"Who cast the Soul-Locking Curse upon Your Highness?"

The amusement drained from Xie Linyan's eyes, leaving them as cold and flat as frozen winter lakes.

"It seems true, then. You actually perceived it."

Releasing his wrist, I stepped back a pace and drew a breath of cold air.

"Your Highness, this is no ordinary affliction; it is a vicious dark art. Someone has utilized your precise birth chart, your personal belongings, and the life of a living sacrifice to suppress your heavenly lifespan. When the mid-autumn full moon rises and the nether forces swell to their peak, that stolen life-force will drag you down into the underworld."

Xie Linyan regarded me in silence. The candlelight in the chamber flickered violently, as though a chilling breath had swept through from the dark void outside. Only then did the full truth dawn upon me. He had not broken into my bedchamber tonight merely to seek a physician. He had known the truth all along. In fact, his arrival at the marquis's estate had been entirely targeted at me. I narrowed my eyes.

"Why has Your Highness sought me out?"

With slow, deliberate movements, Xie Linyan drew a yellowed, half-charred talisman from the inner folds of his robe. The edges were scorched away by fierce flames, leaving behind the unmistakable brushstrokes of my master on the front, while the back bore a single line of small, elegant handwriting:

*Shen Guiyi, born under the destructive star of the broken firmament, capable of severing the boundary between yin and yang.*

The talisman froze midway in the air, the vermilion ink upon my fingertips bleeding into a tiny, vivid crimson smudge. Xie Linyan spoke softly, his voice carrying the chill of autumn frost:

"Three months ago, someone forged a false formation within the public execution grounds to swallow my soul. It was you who shattered the array."

Memories suddenly rushed back into the tide of my mind. Three months ago, I had indeed scavenged a remarkably handsome, short-lived ghost amidst the desolate graves. That night, the moon was obscured by thick clouds and the bitter winds howled across the wasteland. My master and I had been searching for a misplaced Feng Shui compass when we stumbled upon a flimsy pine coffin resting haphazardly across the barren earth. Within lay a young man whose delicate features bore no resemblance to the dead. Believing that saving a single life accumulated more merit than building seven tiers of pagodas, I had reached out to check his pulse. He was still breathing. Dragging him from the coffin, I slapped three protective talismans across his chest and forced a bowl of potent spirit-water down his throat. As he drifted between consciousness and oblivion, his fingers brushed mine, demanding to know my identity. I had calmly replied:

"Your ancestral deity."

Before long, heavy footsteps approached from the distance. Fearing unnecessary entanglements, I hauled my drunken master onto my back and fled into the night. Never did I imagine that this particular entanglement would eventually track me down. Xie Linyan continued:

"The life you saved that night disrupted the schemer's grand design. Your master's sudden imprisonment was no accident."

Those words struck me like an invisible cord suddenly tightening around my chest, cutting off my breath.

"Who did this?"

Xie Linyan did not answer immediately. He turned his gaze toward the dark window, his voice dropping to a low murmur:

"Second Miss Shen, if you truly wish to rescue your master, if you wish to uncover why you were separated from your family in your youth, and if you wish to know who within this noble marquis's estate desperately prays that you never returned at all, follow me into the imperial palace tomorrow."

I tightened my grip on the ancient copper coin sword tucked within my sleeve.

"What business do I have in the palace?"

Xie Linyan smiled, a faint, dangerous shadow crossing his eyes.

"To read the Crown Prince's fortune."

3

I remained awake throughout the entire night, though not out of any dread for the treacherous, murky waters of the imperial palace. Rather, the parting words Xie Linyan had muttered kept gnawing at my mind, growing more absurd the longer I pondered them. He claimed he had entered the marquis's estate through the proper front gates. When I naturally asked why, having entered so honorably, he chose to scale a high wall and climb through my window, he had offered a profoundly righteous excuse: the main gates were guarded by servants, rendering them inconvenient. After turning the logic over in my head repeatedly, the absurdity only deepened:

"If Your Highness entered the estate through the main gates and then scaled a wall just to crawl through my window, wasn't that infinitely more inconvenient?"

With deadly seriousness, Xie Linyan had replied:

"Yet it was far more amusing."

At that moment, I reached an unshakeable conclusion. He was not merely a cursed man destined for an early grave; he was a cursed man whose wits were severely lacking. The following morning, the Marquis's wife personally led a troop of maidens into my quarters to dress and adorn me. Spread across the tables were over a dozen exquisite garments, and she gently asked which style suited my fancy. Sweeping my gaze across the array, I pointed directly toward the simplest, most austere robe in the collection. The lady of the house beamed with maternal delight.

"Does Guiyi favor such elegant simplicity?"

I shook my head without hesitation.

"Not particularly. The sleeves on this one are wide and loose, making it exceptionally convenient for concealing talismans."

The marchioness fell into a stunned silence for a long moment before selecting an entirely different dress with even wider, billowing sleeves. She was, at heart, a remarkably accommodating mother—capable of deducing three inferences from a single remark. Just as I finished preparing, Shen Mingdao appeared at the threshold of the courtyard. She wore a delicate, pale pink dress, dark shadows of fatigue bruising the skin beneath her eyes. Sensing the words lingering unsaid on the tip of her tongue, I took the initiative to speak:

"If Eldest Sister has come to discuss the betrothal, set your mind at ease. I harbor no desire whatsoever to marry the Third Imperial Prince."

Shen Mingdao pressed her lips into a thin, white line.

"Why would you refuse?"

I pondered for a moment.

"His lifespan is too short, he brings endless trouble, his mind is excessively convoluted, and worst of all, he has a wretched habit of climbing windows."

Mingdao froze in sheer astonishment, utterly unprepared for such a scathing evaluation of an imperial prince. Lowering her gaze, she whispered:

"Yet His Highness treats others with genuine kindness. Though his health is frail, he has never looked down upon anyone. Three years ago, when I attended a banquet within the palace walls and suffered mockery from high-born ladies regarding my humble origins, it was he who stepped forward to clear the siege. After the imperial decree of betrothal was subsequently issued, I always believed..."

Her voice trailed off, but the unspoken meaning hung heavy in the air. She had always cherished the illusion that this marriage was a sweet reward after years of hardship. Yet with my abrupt return, that hard-won engagement had suddenly transformed into a sharp blade suspended precariously above her head. Running my fingers over the crisp paper talismans hidden within my sleeve, I spoke in a quiet, steady tone:

"Sister, if you place any trust in me at all, keep your distance from the Crown Prince in the days to come, and stay just as far away from the Third Prince."