The Dressing Chamber
Sunlight filtered through the lattice windows, casting intricate patterns on the polished wooden floor. Hualing stood behind Xuanwen, gently guiding a carved sandalwood comb through her long, obsidian hair, each stroke deliberate and soothing. The faint aroma of camellia oil lingered in the air, mingling with the subtle scent of jasmine from the nearby garden.
Beside them, Aunt Yin meticulously arranged an array of hair ornaments on a lacquered tray: golden pins shaped like phoenix wings, jade blossoms carved with delicate precision, and fine chains that shimmered like morning dew.
As Hualing began weaving the heavier pieces into Xuanwen's elaborate hairstyle, the weight of the ornaments pressed down, reminiscent of a crown laden with expectations. Her neck tensed under the burden, and a soft sigh escaped her lips. Instinctively, she reached up to adjust the cluster of pins, but Aunt Yin lightly tapped her hand away.
"Don't touch it," Aunt Yin chided, her tone firm yet playful.
"Is all this really necessary, Aunt Yin?" Xuanwen murmured, her gaze fixed on her reflection in the bronze mirror. The vibrant colors and sparkling adornments made her feel like a festival lantern.
Aunt Yin chuckled, adjusting one final pin. "Of course it's necessary. This is your first appearance since your confinement—you must outshine everyone there."
Xuanwen rolled her eyes, a smirk playing on her lips. "Well, I certainly stand out. I look like a parrot that flew through a jewelry shop."
"You look like a goddess," Hualing chimed in, her eyes gleaming with admiration.
Aunt Yin nodded in agreement, satisfied with her work.
Hualing gestured to Xuanwen's intricately embroidered red-orange silk robe, its golden threads catching the light. "You're as radiant as a morning bloom after rain," she said, pointing to the gilded ornaments in her hair. "As dazzling as the rising sun," she continued, indicating the coral hues in her carefully applied makeup. "And as breathtaking as the sky at dusk."
Xuanwen burst into laughter at Hualing's poetic praise. "If I ever become vain, it'll be your fault."
The Liu Mansion Entrance
Later, Xuanwen stood at the mansion's grand entrance, her reflection a fleeting glimmer in the polished wood of the doorframe. The carriage awaited at the base of the steps, its lacquered surface gleaming under the morning sun. As she descended, Xuanqing emerged behind her, her stride purposeful and sharp.
Xuanqing's eyes swept over her younger sister, taking in the layers of silk and the gleaming pins adorning her hair. "All that time spent in reflection, and you're back to your old habits already," she remarked coolly, brushing past her. "Typical. You dress up like a performer, but no matter how much you shine, Sister, the prince will never look your way." She shook her head slightly, lips curved in faint disapproval.
Madame Ye followed behind, her voice brisk. "What are you standing around for? Get into the carriage—we're already running late." As she climbed in, she paused. "By the way, Xuanwen, take the other carriage. Liu Yao will be riding with you. This one's full."
The main carriage rolled away, leaving Xuanwen standing alone in its dust.
She inhaled slowly, gathering herself, then climbed into the second carriage and settled in, waiting. The silence inside stretched until Liu Yao arrived moments later, his expression unreadable as he stepped in and took his seat across from her.
"Mother left with Xuanqing," Xuanwen explained lightly. "The second carriage broke down yesterday, so I didn't really have a choice. I hope you don't mind, cousin."
Liu Yao responded only with a quiet sigh, his gaze focused on the passing scenery outside.
Xuanwen studied him—his reserved demeanor, the quiet dignity in his posture. He was a contrast to her louder, more volatile cousins. Liu Yao rarely spoke unless necessary, and he never involved himself in family drama. Even now, his silence was like a wall she couldn't scale.
Resting her head gently against the cushioned side of the carriage, Xuanwen closed her eyes, letting the steady rhythm of the wheels lull her. She wasn't sure what kind of day awaited her, but she knew it would be long.
Across from her, Liu Yao opened his eyes and glanced at her. Something about Xuanwen unsettled him. In the past, she'd always been talkative—eager for attention, clinging to fleeting approval. Even if they weren't close, he'd learned enough about her to form a picture: Xuanwen, the restless performer. Always pretending.(Reddit)
Liu Yao couldn't find it in himself to pity her. Xuanwen was a person chasing after affection, recklessly and selfishly, even if it hurt others. And to him, that was the most tragic part of her—she didn't even seem to realize it.
Rumors had it that she'd turned over a new leaf, but judging from the way she's dressing, there's nothing that had changed about her. Liu Yao looked out, trying to ignore her existence.
The Imperial Palace
Soon, the carriages reached the entrance of the imperial palace.
As Xuanwen stepped out, she stretched as soon as Liu Yao left. Her back was strained from all the tension, and her neck was stiff from leaning onto the carriage.
Madame Ye shook her head as she saw Xuanwen. "Please behave yourself, Xuanwen. This is the imperial palace; you cannot be as carefree as when at the mansion, understand?"
Xuanwen nodded.
Madame Ye and Xuanqing entered the banquet, leaving Xuanwen to follow behind.
The banquet was beautiful and grand, as expected of the Imperial family. Although this was a banquet, Xuanwen knew well it was more of a selection for the crown princess candidate, especially with all the noble ladies invited. Xuanwen took her seat. Examining the many faces in front of her, Xuanwen recognized only a few; the original Xuanwen's memories were kind of fuzzy, making it hard for Xuanwen to understand it, but regardless, at least she knew some of the faces.
Xuanwen sighed; surely she'd meet Su Huian here.
A hush fell over the hall as the herald's voice rang out, sharp and clear: "Her Majesty, the Empress, arrives!"
Silk rustled and teacups paused mid-air as the noble ladies rose to their feet in unison, backs straightened, eyes trained forward in practiced reverence.
The Empress stepped into the Grand Hall with quiet majesty, draped in flowing robes of pale blue and ivory white, embroidered with cranes in flight and willows bending in the breeze. Delicate ornaments shimmered in her hair—white jade and lapis lazuli that caught the sunlight, framing her youthful face with a halo of understated power and grace.
Her gaze swept over the gathering with a serene smile, warm yet unreadable.
"Welcome, everyone," she said, her voice smooth and gracious as she gestured delicately with one slender hand. "I'm honored to have you all here. Please, be seated. Let us enjoy this lovely occasion together."
As the nobles obeyed and returned to their seats, Lady Liu Xuanwen—clad in a soft red-orange gown embroidered with beautiful pattern—barely had time to lower herself before the Empress turned her attention toward her.
"Lady Liu Xuanwen," she said, voice laced with subtle concern, "I heard you had taken ill. Are you feeling better now?"
Caught slightly off guard, Xuanwen met the Empress's gaze and offered a composed smile. "Yes, Your Majesty. I'm quite well now. Thank you for your concern—it was nothing serious."
The Empress's smile returned, gently. "I'm glad to hear it. Your presence brightens the room. But enough of ailments—let us turn our hearts to merrier things."
Around them, the hall came to life again. Laughter and clinking porcelain filled the air. Conversations bloomed like spring flowers as noblewomen passed sweets, admired tea blends, and exchanged carefully worded compliments.
But while her lips curled in all the right ways, Xuanwen's mind wandered far from the festivities. Something in her gut twisted with unease, as if she stood on the edge of something deeper, darker.
"Miss Xuanwen," a soft, airy voice called out from nearby.
She turned, and her eyes met a familiar face.
Su Huian stood before her with a smile, her peach-pink hanfu fluttering with the breeze of her movement. Her beauty was gentle, her expression guileless—but Xuanwen knew better. Behind that calm mask was a mind sharp as a blade.
"My name is Su Huian. Do you remember me?" the young woman asked, head tilted slightly, voice sweet as syrup.
So bold. Xuanwen hadn't expected her to confront her so directly—not this early. Perhaps regression had changed her.
Xuanwen rose, returning the smile with perfect poise. "Of course, Miss Su. It's been some time, hasn't it?"
Huian's smile deepened as she studied Xuanwen. "You look lovely today, as always."
"You flatter me, Miss Su," Xuanwen replied with a soft chuckle. "But I must return the compliment."
"Would it be alright for me to speak with you privately?"
The banquet hummed around them, oblivious. No one paid their exchange any mind.
"Of course," Xuanwen said, motioning for them to step aside.
Su Huian leaned closer. "The flower you sent me last year... I still think about it. So rare. So beautiful."
Ah. So that's where this was going.
Xuanwen maintained her composure, eyes dancing. The flower in question had been a rare species—poisonous, in fact. The original Xuanwen could never have procured it alone. This was a fact Huian had knew all along.
"I'm touched you remember," she replied smoothly. "It reminded me of you—elegant, unique."
"May I ask... where did you find such a rare bloom?" Huian's eyes sparkled, curious—too curious.
Xuanwen let her smile turn sheepish. "I wish I could say. It was recommended to me at a vendor's stall. I only wanted to send something special to make up for missing your coming-of-age ceremony. I hope you weren't offended?"
Huian tilted her head, searching Xuanwen's face for cracks. Finding none, she relented with a smile. "Of course not. I was merely curious."
Of course she was. Xuanwen watched as Huian excused herself, her steps light, her back too straight. Huian wasn't done. She'd dig deeper—and that was fine. Let her. Because if everything unfolded like the novel, Su Huian would eventually discover that the poisonous plant was all too familiar... the same one that had killed her mother.
And the real twist? The traitor who delivered it lived under her very roof.
Xuanwen sipped her tea, a knowing glint in her eyes.
As she rose to stretch her legs, a maid bustled by too quickly—too clumsily. The tray tilted, and sweetened wine splashed across Xuanwen's dress.
"Oh no—Miss Xuanwen! Please forgive me!" the maid cried, bowing low, flustered.
"It's alright," Xuanwen replied calmly, though her inner instincts prickled. That felt staged.
She was led to a side chamber to change. Inside, the room was quiet, the air perfumed with sandalwood. She slipped into a fresh gown, then stepped out—only to find the hallway empty. The maid was gone.
Odd.
She turned to head back to the hall but found herself in an unfamiliar corridor. Had they brought her a different way?
She wandered a bit further... and then froze.
A glimpse of something at the edge of a pond. A shape. Small. Unmoving.
Her heart leapt.
A child.
A body.
She raced forward, her feet slapping the stone path. The rocks obscured much, but it was unmistakable—the limp form of a boy, floating.
Without hesitation, Xuanwen plunged into the water.
The cold stole her breath, but she grabbed the boy and kicked hard, dragging him back to shore. Her dress clung to her skin, her hair soaked, but she didn't stop. Laying the child down, she gasped.
"Yan Yifan?"
His face was pale, lips blue.
"Wake up! Yifan!" she cried, slamming her palms into his chest.
No response.
She gave him breath, again and again, pressing on his chest, mouth to mouth, refusing to let him go.
Finally—he coughed. A splutter. Then another.
Water gushed from his mouth.
Xuanwen let out a shaky breath, supporting him as he shivered.
And then—"What's going on?!"
A man's voice, furious and cold.
She looked up—and saw him.
Jianyu.
He strode forward like a storm, eyes wild as he pushed her aside and gathered Yifan into his arms.
"Yifan! What happened?!" he demanded, voice cracking with concern.
Yan Ying arrived next, breathless. "Your Highness!" she cried, kneeling by her brother. "Yifan, are you alright?!"
Then—
SLAP.
Xuanwen's head snapped to the side.
It was Madame Ye. Her eyes burned with outrage.
"You insolent girl! Apologize to His Highness immediately!" she shrieked, bowing deeply to the Crown Prince. "Your Highness, please forgive my disgraceful daughter! I beg of you!"
Xuanwen reeled, stunned.
But then—
"Sister… she didn't… she saved me…" Yan Yifan whimpered between sobs.
Yan Ying's head turned sharply. "Miss Xuanwen?"
Xuanwen met her gaze and smiled faintly, water still dripping from her chin.
Later, in the Grand Hall
The Empress's sigh broke the silence.
"So it was all a misunderstanding," she said calmly. "Madame Ye. Lady Xuanwen. I hope you both aren't offended by this."
"Of course, Your Majesty," Madame Ye murmured, forced calm. "It was after all, a misunderstanding"
The Empress turned to Xuanwen. "I apologize for how you were treated. If there is anything I can do…"
Xuanwen bowed slightly. "I only did what was right, Your Majesty."
But Jianyu's gaze lingered on her—sharp, calculating.
"This happened at my event. I will not rest easy until I make amends," the Empress pressed. "Truly, is there nothing you wish for?"
Xuanwen hesitated. Yifan nearly died. That wasn't part of the story.
Was it 'him' pulling the strings? But why go this far?
"If it pleases Your Majesty," she said slowly, "I've always admired your paintings. If I may receive one as a gift, that would be more than enough."
The Empress smiled. "Consider it done."
Later..
Xuanwen touched her cheek, still stinging from the slap. Madame Ye hadn't held back.
"What did I expect?" she muttered under her breath, bitterness curling her lips. "Was it really necessary to go this far?"
Outside, the noble ladies were leaving one by one. The evening was becoming more quiet.
"Miss Xuanwen!" called Yan Ying, rushing up to her.
"Miss Yan," Xuanwen greeted, startled.
Yan Ying frowned at her bruised cheek. "Does it hurt badly?"
"It's fine now. Don't worry about it."
Yan Ying's face clouded with guilt. "You've helped us twice, and I've done nothing for you. I'm truly sorry."
"As long as your brother is safe, it's fine."
Yan Ying hesitated. "Miss Xuanwen... when you rescued Yifan, did you see anyone nearby?"
Xuanwen shook her head. "No. He was already unconscious when I got there. I was just lucky to find him quick."
Yan Ying gripped her hand. "Please don't refuse me—I'd like to invite you to the Yan residence. Let us thank you properly."
"Ah—Miss Yan, really, it's alright—"
"Please?"
Xuanwen relented with a nod.
Inside the carriage
Liu Yao sat across from her, eyes narrowed.
"You've been awfully quiet, cousin," Xuanwen said lightly. "Something on my face?"
"I heard you rescued Miss Yan's brother from the pond," he said slowly. "Since when do you know how to swim?"
Xuanwen blinked. The original didn't know how to swim? Damn.
"I learned recently," she said, smiling. "I've realized fear is meant to be conquered."
Liu Yao's gaze didn't waver. "I didn't know you were so fearless, Xuanwen."
"Maybe," she replied, "you've simply never cared to know."
He fell silent.
But Xuanwen knew.
Certainly! Here's a more detailed and vivid rephrasing of your scene with deeper characterization, clearer emotional beats, and immersive scene-setting:
Yan Mansion – Late Evening
A pale moonlight spilled through the open window, casting a silvery glow over the room where young Yan Yifan lay unconscious on the silk-draped bed. The soft rustle of the wind stirred the curtains, but inside, the atmosphere was thick with tension.
Yan Ying sat at her brother's bedside, her fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from his brow. Her voice was quiet, but firm.
"Your Highness, what you did earlier… it wasn't necessary."
Crown Prince Jianyu stood nearby, arms crossed, his sharp gaze lingering on Yifan's still form. He let out a long, weary sigh.
"Yan Ying, you trust too easily. Miss Xuanwen is not someone we should take lightly."
Yan Ying turned to face him, her eyes flashing.
"And why is that? Because she was once among the many women who chased after you like moths to a flame? Your Highness, I understand your reluctance to place trust in others—but Miss Xuanwen has saved Yifan's life twice now. Are we to respond to that kindness with suspicion? You're forcing me to be ungrateful to the very person who helped save my brother."
Jianyu's expression hardened.
"That's exactly why it doesn't sit right with me. Twice now—twice—she's appeared at just the right moment. Coincidence doesn't strike in the same place so conveniently, and not with someone like her."
Yan Ying stood abruptly, the movement sharp enough to startle a bird from its perch.
"I understand your concerns, Your Highness. Truly, I do. But my brother and I owe her a debt we cannot ignore. This is my fault. I never should've brought Yifan along in the first place. If I hadn't, none of this would have happened."
Jianyu's gaze softened, and he stepped forward.
"Enough. Don't blame yourself. If your father finds out, he'll blame me for failing to protect you both."
She turned back to Yifan, her face shadowed with guilt.
But even as Jianyu gave his word to let the matter rest, unease still curled in the pit of his stomach. Something wasn't right. Xuanwen was no ordinary noblewoman. He had seen her kind before—ambitious, calculating, and dangerous beneath the surface of grace.
He remembered the first time he encountered her: a hunting expedition, six years ago. Her horse had gone mad, and he'd saved her from being trampled. That had sparked a relentless pursuit. Since then, Xuanwen had tried every ploy—subtle and overt—to gain his favor.
She was clever, too clever. He'd once caught her punishing a palace maid—jabbing sewing needles into the girl's fingertips for merely staining her shoes. If he hadn't intervened, the poor girl might have lost her hands. No, Xuanwen didn't help people out of the goodness of her heart. There was always a price—always an angle.
But tonight… something had shifted. Not once during the incident had she even looked at him. She hadn't smirked or sought his attention. It was as though he'd been invisible to her. That, more than anything, disturbed him. Xuanwen was always playing a game. If she was ignoring him, it meant the game had changed.
Xuanwen's Bedchamber – Same Night
The room was quiet, lit by the gentle flicker of a lantern on her nightstand. Draped in soft silk, Xuanwen lay reclined on her bed, staring up at the carved wooden ceiling. The day's events replayed in her mind, each moment vivid as ink on parchment.
She exhaled slowly. "What a day…"
First, there had been Su Huian—prying, sharp-tongued, and unrelenting in her suspicions. Xuanwen had a sinking feeling their paths would continue to cross, and not pleasantly.
Then came the boy, Yan Yifan. And the Crown Prince.
She closed her eyes briefly. Had his face always been that unreadable? Cold, like winter stone. The original Xuanwen's memories were fragmented and useless, so she'd been forced to piece together her understanding from observations and strategic research. Before today, she'd only glimpsed Jianyu from afar when delivering anonymous tips. Never had they spoken.
But today had changed that.
She had met him. Truly met him.
And he was exactly as difficult as she feared—hard to sway, impossible to fool. Gaining his trust wouldn't be easy. Good thing she had chosen to start with quiet gestures, small hints. A full reveal now would be disastrous.
She turned on her side, eyes drifting toward the window. "Yifan…" she murmured.
The boy had been caught in the crossfire. Unintended, but unavoidable.
Her brows furrowed. Everything—every encounter, every event—it all felt orchestrated. Too perfect, too timely. She clenched her hands into fists.
Had 'he' gone that far? Would he really harm a child to push things forward?
Her heart twisted with unease. She couldn't afford to wait any longer. The game was accelerating, and innocent lives were at risk.
Sitting up, Xuanwen reached for her robe. Her silhouette was firm in the lantern light.
"It seems I'll have to quicken my pace."