The Crown Prince's residence was not what Shen Lian expected.
There were no gold walls or carved dragons. No overbearing guards at every turn. Just a garden that bloomed out of season, and a silence that weighed more than stone.
She stepped inside alone.
A boy in pale robes sat beneath a plum tree, ink brush paused mid-stroke. His hair was loose around his shoulders, a single jade ring glinting on his hand.
"You're not afraid," he said without looking up.
"I was once," Shen Lian replied. "It wasted my time."
He finally raised his head.
The Crown Prince.
His face was elegant—not soft, but finely drawn, like a painting that could cut if touched. His gaze held the weight of someone used to watching others kneel.
"Interesting," he said. "I had expected a girl who simpered. Or lied. Or tried to charm."
Shen Lian remained silent.
"I've seen your file. Heard the whispers. Even my mother likes you."
"She is wise," Shen Lian said.
"She is dangerous," he corrected.
A pause stretched. The plum petals fell between them like unspoken terms.
"Tell me," he said at last. "Why do you think someone tried to frame my guards?"
Shen Lian met his eyes. "Because someone wants your blade dulled before the next storm."
He didn't smile, but something in his gaze shifted.
"And you? What do you want from me?"
Shen Lian answered, calm and clear:
"Nothing. Yet."
He leaned back against the tree. "Then you're smarter than most."
"I have to be."
Another silence. This one deeper. Then—
"I'll remember your name," the Crown Prince said.
He waved her off like a scholar closing a scroll.
But as she left, Shen Lian knew:
This meeting hadn't just been a test.
It had been a warning.
And an invitation.