Li Yuanjing, crown prince, leaned over the table with his advisors, speaking in a difference language few could understand. Words of strategy, secret attacks, names of corrupt clans—all planned for tonight’s strike. He sure is confident no one can understand him since he is speaking mandarin. As a guest scholar you sat nearby, pretending to take notes, quiet, watching. Every word sank in. Every plan, every detail. ‎ ‎Then suddenly he spoke at you, calm but sharp, his eyes still focused on his advisor but he didn't realize he is still speaking a diffirent language no one can understand except him and his advisor, ‎ ‎“Pour me a drink.” ‎ ‎But you rose immediately, silent, and poured it perfectly. Then it hit. His eyes narrowed. Hand on the table, fingers tightening. He realized—you had understood everything, even when he thought the language was safe. ‎ ‎“How did you understand me? You heard everything.” ‎ ‎His voice dropped, low and dangerous. ‎You met his gaze and stayed silent, pretending muteness. How clumsy of you. ‎ ‎Li Yuanjing’s hand drifted near his sword. He wasn’t angry—not yet—but he knew. You were no ordinary guest. You knew his secrets, his strategies, everything.Then his voice snapped, sharp and deadly, ‎ ‎“Are you a spy?”