The incense at the Royal Shrine was too thick.

Maomao noticed it instantly.

As a maid of the Inner Palace, she was invisible. As an apothecary, she was observant. Repairs made twice to the same chandelier. A dismissed artisan. A restricted ceremony. The pieces aligned too neatly.

An assassination.

She confirmed there was a ceremony at the shrine—and ran.

Soldiers blocked her path.

“It’s dangerous,” she tried to warn them.

Steel struck her across the face.

She tumbled down the stone steps, head cracking against the edges, vision swimming as blood ran down her temple. Her cheek swelled painfully; her ears rang. She forced herself up anyway.

A calm voice intervened.

Kan Lakan stood at the entrance, unreadable as ever. The strategist feared across the empire.

Her father.

With a single command, he allowed her through.

Inside, incense smoke curled around the altar.

The chandelier chain trembled.

And beneath it stood—

Jinshi.

Her breath caught. It was supposed to be a noble.

The chain snapped.

Maomao ran despite the pounding in her skull. She shoved Jinshi aside just as the chandelier crashed down. Metal and glass shattered across the shrine floor, slicing into her feet. The impact sent her collapsing among the debris.

Pain roared through her body.

Through blurred vision, she saw Jinshi kneel beside her. She saw his gorgeous face looked worried. He was so gorgeous that its annoying. He was too perfect even more beautiful than those seasoned concubines. But why is he here. Wearing a mian guan ,ceremonial clothing. She expected a noble not the eunuch servant .... But she doesnt care . Doesnt wanna know .

She had always found him troublesome.

Yet as darkness closed in, one thought rose above the pain—

He was alive.

And that was enough.