Song Rui had never believed herself to be particularly fragile.
She had been raised in a modern world where chaos was constant and survival meant standing on your own two feet. As a journalist, she'd stared down the cold eyes of corrupt officials and tracked dangerous truths in the shadows of society. She'd faced real danger before—threats, blackmail, the silent weight of men who didn't like what she uncovered.
But none of it had prepared her for this world.
Not for the walls that breathed like beasts.Not for the men who smiled like predators.Not for Feng Xuan.
And yet, she refused to stay trapped in a golden cage, watching the days slip by as if she truly was the sheltered princess everyone believed her to be.
So she planned.
Every day since waking up in Li Yue's body, Song Rui had observed, memorized, and quietly collected whatever she could. Loose pins to pick simple locks. A handful of coins tucked from trays. The guard rotation schedules she'd overheard when servants forgot she was listening. She mapped out the palace halls in her mind, memorizing which routes were least patrolled and which courtyards offered cover in the moonlight.
She waited.She watched.And when the moment finally came—she moved.
Clad in plain robes stolen from the laundry chamber and a scarf wrapped loosely around her face, Song Rui slipped into the corridor like a shadow. Her soft-soled slippers muffled every step, and she clutched a small bundle under her arm—emergency food, water, and a rusted but sharp letter opener tucked beneath the fabric.
The palace was still. Midnight had long passed. Even the guards, rigid in their posts, had begun to waver in alertness.
She darted behind stone columns, past paper lanterns flickering dimly in the night breeze. Her heart pounded as she reached the outer gardens, where manicured trees lined the path leading to the west wall—lower, less guarded. A part of her still couldn't believe how close she'd come.
Just a few more steps.
And then—
"You're not very good at hiding your tracks."
The voice was soft, but it struck like lightning.
Song Rui stopped cold.
The shadows parted ahead of her. A man stepped forward, his black robes nearly indistinguishable from the night. The lantern in his hand cast an eerie glow across his sharp features.
Feng Xuan.
He looked at her the way a hunter might look at a wounded animal—curious, but not merciful.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, slowly, she pulled the scarf from her face, letting it fall.
"I suppose you plan to drag me back," she said coolly.
Feng Xuan's eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you truly believe you can survive out there alone?"
"I'd rather try than stay here and wait for whatever game you're playing to finish."
Something flickered in his eyes. Not anger. Not quite. Something else—too layered to name.
"You've changed," he said after a moment.
"No," she replied. "I've simply stopped pretending."
Feng Xuan stepped closer. "You're not Li Yue."
Her breath caught.
Finally, someone said it.
She met his gaze head-on. "No. I'm not."
He didn't look surprised. Only tired.
"I don't know who you are," he said, voice quiet. "But I know you're not the woman I brought into this palace. You don't kneel. You don't plead. You think like a strategist. Act like someone used to freedom."
"I am," she said. "From a world far from this one. A world where I had choices."
Feng Xuan's expression darkened. "Then you understand how dangerous this place truly is."
"That's exactly why I have to leave."
He shook his head. "You think I'm your greatest threat. But beyond these walls, some men would skin you alive for your name. Not because of who you are—but because of what you represent."
She swallowed, fists clenched at her sides. "Let me decide what I can survive."
"You won't make it past the outer city."
"I'll take the risk."
"And if you're captured?" His tone was suddenly sharp. "Tortured? Paraded through the streets as a traitor's daughter?"
Her breath caught in her throat. "You think keeping me here is mercy?"
"I think it's the only way to keep you alive."
She took a step back. "You don't know me. You only know the person I replaced."
"And yet I see you more clearly than anyone else does."
The weight of his words settled like lead between them.
She didn't want to believe him.
Didn't want to acknowledge that maybe—just maybe—his warning wasn't about control, but fear. Real, tangible fear for her safety.
But none of that mattered.
"Then let me go, Feng Xuan," she said. "Let me walk away."
He looked at her for a long time.
And then, very quietly, he said, "I can't."
Silence swallowed the courtyard.
Song Rui took another step back, pulling the bundle tighter against her chest. Her eyes darted toward the side path—the one that led to the hidden servant gate. She could still make a break for it. Maybe he wouldn't stop her. Maybe—
But he moved too quickly.
In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance between them. His hand caught her wrist—not harsh, but firm, unrelenting. The lantern's glow flickered across his face, highlighting the storm in his eyes.
"I won't hurt you," he said. "But I will not let you walk into death."
She tried to twist free, but his grip held.
"Let go," she said.
"No."
"Feng Xuan—"
"I said no!"
The force of his voice startled her.
But not as much as what came next.
He dropped her hand.
Stepped back.
And said, "You may try again if you must. But each time, I will find you."
His voice was not threatening. Not cold.
Just… resolute.
"I am not your enemy," he added softly. "And whether you believe me or not, I will not stand by and watch you die."
Song Rui stared at him.
And for the first time, she didn't see the ruthless general. Or the cold fiancé.
She saw the weight he carried.
The fear.
The responsibility.
And, maybe—though she didn't want to admit it—concern.
Still, she couldn't stay.
She couldn't be caged.
"You're not giving me a choice," she whispered.
"No," he said. "I'm giving you a chance. To survive. To adapt. Until we understand what has truly happened to you."
Her breath hitched.
And she realized—he wasn't just talking about her body.
He had seen the cracks in the story.
He knew she wasn't the real Li Yue.
She turned her head, blinking back the sting behind her eyes.
Then, slowly, she handed him the bundle.
"I won't stop trying."
"I know," he said. "And I'll be here when you fail."
That should've angered her.
But it didn't.
Because somewhere, deep down, she knew—
He wasn't just being arrogant.
He was being honest.
And honesty, in this place, was more rare than any jewel.