Snow began to fall again, soft and thin, veiling the palace in silence.
At the base of the garden wall near the Dowager's quarters, a page-boy dropped a sealed scroll and vanished into the shadows.
A maid picked it up an hour later. She didn't see the figure watching her from the roofline.
Zhou slipped away, silent as snowfall.
In the Cold Palace, Shen Lian read another letter.
The same handwriting. The same sender.
This one read: "The Second Prince meets with fire, the Crown Prince with wind. You are the flint."
She set the note aflame and watched the smoke curl.
By afternoon, two senior court ladies had been reassigned to the Ministry of Rites.
That evening, Shen Lian dressed simply and walked the long corridor toward the eastern pavilion, where the Crown Prince held private court.
She did not knock.
He looked up from his desk, unsurprised. "You walk straight through my door. Should I be alarmed?"
Shen Lian smiled faintly. "Only if you have something to hide."
He set his brush down. "Everyone in this palace has something to hide. Even you."
"I just burn mine before dawn."
He chuckled. "You've drawn attention."
"Good. That means I'm doing something right."
"What do you want, Shen Lian?"
She looked him in the eye. "A path I can walk without kneeling."
A pause.
Then he nodded once. "You'll have it. For now."
As she left, the flame in the brazier behind her flared—then dimmed.
The fire had touched every corner of the game now.
And someone, somewhere, would burn.