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Under the veil's concealing folds, A'Ying slipped into the grand hall, her movements mirroring those of another young woman beside her. Their steps, honed through years of rigorous practice, flowed in perfect unison.

They performed the Wushan Dance, an ancient Chinese entertainment style known for its graceful yet vigorous movements. Each twist of their torso, each elegant extension of their arms, told a silent story – one of blossoming flowers and flowing waterfalls, of the serene beauty and unyielding spirit of the Wushan Mountains.

Their white silk robes, adorned with delicate floral embroidery, swirled around their ankles as they pirouetted and leaped, their movements light and precise like the flitting of butterflies. Their fingers, adorned with long silk ribbons, traced graceful arcs through the air, mimicking the graceful movements of birds in flight.

Meanwhile, the Emperor, enthralled by the captivating performance, leaned forward in his seat, his gaze fixed upon the dancers. His eyes followed their movements, absorbing the intricate steps and the subtle expressions that conveyed a spectrum of emotions – joy, sorrow, longing, and determination.

Sitting near him, the Empress noticed the direction of his gaze. A frown flickered across her face, and she subtly waved a hand to summon a nearby maid. The young woman hurried over, her head bowed in deference.

"Who's she?" the Empress inquired, her voice barely a whisper.

The maid strained to see through the veil, then shook her head apologetically. "Information on the dancers is scarce, Your Majesty. They are chosen at random from a pool of trained refugees from other states."

The Empress pressed her lips together, a hint of frustration flickering in her eyes. She set down her teacup, a delicate chime echoing in the silence, and rose from her seat, offering a small bow as an excuse.

Gliding past A'Ying and her companion dancers, the Empress joined the other ladies at the end of the hall, her gaze occasionally straying back to the mesmerizing performance.

Suddenly, the heavy silk curtains flanking the stage parted, revealing a young man seated at a guqin. His slender fingers danced across the seven strings, coaxing forth a melody that resonated with the dancers' movements.

The guqin's tune was melancholic yet captivating, its rich, resonant notes evoking a sense of longing and bittersweet nostalgia. Each pluck of the strings seemed to complement the dancers' movements, creating a tapestry of beauty and sorrow, strength and vulnerability.

Zhao Yun, skeptical of Zhou Qiubai's request to include this particular dance style in the performance, watched with a furrowed brow. He observed the young woman who, with each graceful movement, seemed to focus all her attention on him. Her eyes, filled with a veiled passion, seemed to seek his through the veil she wore. As she twirled, a long, flowing sleeve fluttered towards him, a silent invitation lost in the swirl of music and dance.

The intricate movements, the captivating music, and the veiled intentions simmering beneath the surface all combined to create an atmosphere of unspoken tension in the grand hall.

The Emperor, his gaze fixated on the lead dancer's every movement, subtly glanced towards Zhao Yun. His curiosity mirrored mine as I instinctively turned towards the Emperor's gaze. Both of us appeared captivated by the performers, particularly the lead dancer and the young man playing the guqin.

As I continued to watch, my jaw dropped open in astonishment. A closer inspection revealed a pouch hanging from the lead dancer's hanfu belt, its intricate embroidery a telltale sign reserved only for royal princesses of Liang State. If my eyes weren't deceiving me, that was A'Ying, my childhood sparring partner, hidden beneath the veil.

Anxiety gnawed at me. I lifted my gaze, desperately seeking her eyes as if my life depended on it. A lump formed in my throat, making swallowing a Herculean task. I slumped back in my seat, arms crossed tightly, the memory of her warm brown eyes, so familiar from countless sparring sessions, etched deeply in my mind.

Her presence here filled me with a multitude of questions. Was this all part of Dawei's Emperor's elaborate plan, or had A'Ying arrived on her own accord? My head twitched towards the guqin player, his nimble fingers dancing across the strings. While music and etiquette lessons like script writing, flute playing, guqin, stitching, and dancing never held my interest, the melody resonated deeply within me.

Memories flooded my mind, vivid flashbacks of my childhood. The familiar tune echoed through the imperial gardens, my laughter filling the air as I ran circles around the frustrated maids chasing after me. It was "Solemn Oath," my mother's favorite song! How could Mo Yan possibly know its sentimental meaning to me?

The laughter of my childhood echoed in my ears, a melody lost to the setting sun and the damp scent of rain-soaked grass. I flung my playful fan through the air in the chrysanthemum garden, each step taking me further into a memory long past. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows, and a chilly breeze from the east wrestled with my fan, sending it fluttering back and forth. My peals of laughter rang clear as I darted around the garden, the desperate pleas of my maids fading into the background.

"Your Highness!" they cried, their voices lost in my joyous chase.

With a mischievous glint in my eyes, I dodged their outstretched hands, reveling in the thrill of the game. Suddenly, the sweet aroma of candied haws tickled my nose, and I hopped on one foot, peering over my shoulder.

There, amidst the vibrant blooms, stood my mother, a vision of grace and elegance in her blue hanfu adorned with delicate phoenixes. Her black silk shoes gleamed in the fading light, and she held out two candied haws, a warm smile gracing her lips.

"Mom!" I shrieked in delight, my heart brimming with anticipation. I launched myself towards her, eager to embrace her and claim my sweet reward.

But just as I took a step forward, a deafening crash shattered the idyllic scene. The wall behind us crumbled in an instant, a spray of concrete shrapnel exploding into the air. I let out a terrified gasp, my legs giving way beneath me. The world seemed to tilt sideways, and I tumbled to the ground, the terrified screams of my maids echoing in my ears.

In a heartbeat, a muffled sob erupted from behind, snapping my head around. A figure cloaked in black, his face obscured by a mask, emerged from the shadows. With a swift, brutal movement, they plunged a blade into the hearts of the two maids standing guard. The women's eyes, wide with horror, stared sightlessly into the dimming light.

The guqin, the instrument of my mother's solace, lay shattered in pieces, its mournful melody silenced forever. A strangled sob escaped my throat as the maids crumpled to the ground, their lifeless bodies staining the dewy grass.

The black figure, his movements chillingly deliberate, strode past me, their sole focus on my mother, now isolated in the swirling mist. Panic surged through me, and I lunged forward, clinging desperately to the figure's leg. A warm droplet of blood traced a path down my forehead, the sting barely registering amidst the rising tide of terror.

With a violent jerk, the figure tore my hand away and continued their advance towards my mother. I sprawled on the blood-soaked ground, my arms outstretched in a futile attempt to reach her. The figure, their face hidden in the shadows, raised their sword, the glint of cold steel reflecting the dying light.

In a blink, the blade plunged into my mother's stomach, piercing her heart. Her eyes, filled with an unfathomable pain, locked onto mine, a silent plea for me to run, to escape the nightmare unfolding before me.

I shook my head in denial, a single tear tracing a path down my cheek. "M-Mom," the word escaped my lips in a choked whisper.

As if struck by lightning, I caught a glimpse of a familiar tattoo etched onto the assassin's arm. The air caught in my throat, and a gasp escaped my lips. The figure, their movements momentarily arrested, turned towards me, their face contorted in a grotesque snarl.

Then, with a dismissive shrug, the figure turned and vanished into the fading mist, leaving me alone with the carnage they had wrought. Consort Bai and the maids materialized from the surrounding shadows, their faces etched with shock and horror. "Your Highness!" they cried in unison, rushing towards me.

Shaking, they helped me to my feet, my eyes fixed on the still form of my mother, the familiar tattoo branding the killer seared into my memory. Finally, I lifted my gaze, meeting the eyes of Consort Bai. "It's you?" my voice cracked, the words laced with accusation and disbelief. "You killed my mother!"

I clenched my fists, biting back the frustration that threatened to boil over. A young man, hidden behind the heavy curtains, played a hauntingly beautiful melody on his flute, adding a layer of melancholic charm to the dancers' performance. As they swayed their hips and gracefully flung their fingers, a chilling emptiness filled me.

The Emperor cleared his throat, his voice booming through the grand hall. "It would be a grave discourtesy of me not to formally greet the Princess of Liang. Please, step forward and allow us to do you the honor of welcoming you."

The air crackled with anticipation as the other guests politely clapped, their eyes expectant. My gaze flickered to Zhao Yun, a wordless plea hanging between us. He understood my predicament instantly.

"Your Majesty," he countered, his voice firm, "it wouldn't be appropriate for an unmarried maiden like the Princess to travel with men. I assure you, she is not here."

The Emperor narrowed his eyes, his skepticism evident. He tutted dismissively. "Nonsense, Chancellor. She is clearly present. I would never dream of being disrespectful to a guest of such esteemed lineage. Come forth, Princess, and let us extend our proper welcome."

His forceful tone sent shivers down my spine. Jing Yi and Zhen Lan exchanged a tense, silent glare, their faces etched with concern. My fingers nervously traced invisible patterns against the silk of my robes, my mind racing for a solution.

The tension in the room escalated as the guards surrounding the hall shifted, their hands tightening around the hilts of their swords. The metallic clang echoed ominously in the silence.

"What do you want from her?!" Jing Yi's voice, laced with defiance, cut through the stifling atmosphere. Zhen Lan and I gasped, our eyes widening in surprise at her outburst. Even Zhao Yun, his expression unreadable, rose from his seat and stepped protectively beside her.

The Emperor let out another dismissive tut, his gaze flitting across the room. A'Ying, her companion, and even the usually stoic Mo Yan all shared a look of nervous anticipation, their eyes glued to the Emperor's hand, searching for any sign of his next move. The air crackled with unspoken threats and hidden agendas, and the fate of the missing Princess hung in the balance.

The Emperor's incessant tutting sent shivers down the spines of A'Ying, her companion Mo Yan, and even the stoic Zhao Yun. They sat stiffly, their eyes glued to the Emperor's hands, anticipating any sudden command.

A low voice broke the stifling silence. "General Jing, a title you wear uneasily, isn't it?" The Emperor's gaze swept across the room, his eyes lingering on A'Ying for a fraction too long. "And General Su, I apologize for the earlier oversight."

Zhen Lan and Jing Yi, their knuckles white from clenching their fists, exchanged a worried glance. A barely suppressed chuckle escaped the Emperor's lips as he witnessed their reaction. Zhao Yun, ever the protector, stepped forward, his voice firm.

"If Your Majesty is aware of her true identity, then the charade becomes pointless," he stated, his gaze unwavering. "She is here as my disciple, not some political pawn. The same holds true for my other companions."

Qiubai, sensing the rising tension, rose from his seat and approached the Emperor with a placating smile. "Disciple, you say?" the Emperor scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "But what if I choose to see her as Li Yourong, the Princess of Liang, skulking within my court to gather intel for her kingdom? How would the public react to such a revelation?"

"You dare twist the truth!" Fury, a raging inferno, surged through my veins. I shot up from my seat, my eyes burning with an unholy fire. Zhao Yun, ever the stoic protector, reacted instantly, his hand firmly grasping my arm to pull me back. His eyes, however, held a chilling glint, conveying the emotions he wouldn't voice. Remembering his earlier instruction to remain calm, I gritted my teeth, the metallic taste of suppressed rage filling my mouth.

The Emperor's words, like barbed arrows, pierced deep into my soul. "A useless princess..." his voice dripped with disdain, "...who needs a duke to rule for her." The very notion of being labeled "useless" ignited a firestorm within me. It was an insult that cut through my years of dedicated training, of pushing myself to the limit to become a worthy leader, not just a figurehead. I desperately turned to Shifu, searching for support in his eyes, rolling my tongue in my mouth, a silent plea for guidance.

The Emperor's pronouncement hung heavy in the air, a suffocating weight settling upon the room. The guards, their faces emotionless masks, tightened their circle, swords glinting ominously in the dim light. Each step closer felt like a tightening noose around our necks. Mo Yan and A'Ying, their faces etched with concern and a touch of fear, exchanged a hesitant glance. Even the flutist, hidden behind the silken curtains, peeked out with a flicker of curiosity in their eyes.

Suddenly, the Emperor's voice, sharp and cold, cut through the tense silence. "I have a proposal." He gestured towards a young man seated beside him, his features as handsome and polished as any noble of Ming. A forced smile stretched across the man's face as he rose to his feet, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

"This is Feng Liu, Crown Prince of Ming." The Emperor's voice boomed through the hall. "With a marriage alliance between our two nations, we can settle our differences and build a harmonious society. What do you say, Princess A'Ying?"

My rage, already simmering, boiled over. Zhen Lan, his face contorted with a mix of fury and disbelief, mirrored my reaction. We both stumbled back, chests heaving, swords instinctively drawn. Zhen Lan, his voice laced with a barely contained growl, pointed the tip of his blade directly at the Emperor.

"You dare speak of marriage when she is already betrothed!" he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber.

A cruel smile played on the Emperor's lips. "I care not for the decisions of your state. You are within my walls now, Princess. Your fate, and the lives of those around you, hangs by a thread."

The boy's sobs echoed through the deserted village, a heart-wrenching melody against the backdrop of deathly silence. Where once laughter and life had thrummed through the streets, now only the stench of blood and the chilling emptiness remained. Bodies, like fallen dominoes, littered the ground, their blood painting a macabre mural that stretched from the village center to the valley's distant end. The few remaining trees stood as silent witnesses, their leaves drooping as if burdened by the weight of the unseen tragedy.

Su Ruo, her grip tightening around the bloodied sword she had used to defend them, stumbled backwards. The screams, the clash of steel, the desperate pleas for mercy – they all echoed in her head, a cacophony of terror refusing to fade. Her vision blurred, the world dissolving into a kaleidoscope of crimson and grey. Images flickered, a fragmented sequence of a familiar scene – a bloodstained floor, the chilling weight of the weapon in her hand, the metallic tang of blood coating her skin. It was a memory, horrifying yet strangely familiar, a recurring nightmare that had plagued her for as long as she could remember.

Then, as if a dam had broken, the true horror of the present washed over her. Her gaze swept across the massacre, taking in the lifeless forms scattered around – men, women, children, all victims of the indiscriminate violence. The rain, falling relentlessly, mingled with the blood pooling on the ground, sending shivers down her spine.

A chilling question echoed in the hollow chambers of her mind: who was she? Were these people, lying silent in the rain, her family? Their faces, once etched in her dreams, were now obscured by death, their voices lost forever in the silence.

Suddenly, the air split with the hiss of arrows. Several figures, clad in the same ominous garb as the fallen assassins, materialized from the shadows, their bows aimed with deadly intent.

Xiao Fan's face etched with a desperate determination, lunged towards Su Ruo. In a swift, practiced move, he spun her around, his body shielding her from the volley of arrows that rained down behind them. He snatched the boy's hand, his grip firm yet gentle, and propelled them both towards the safety of the nearby forest, the deadly arrows whispering past their ears like a grim reminder of the danger that still lurked.

Xiao Fan's blood ran cold as the barked order echoed through the rain-slicked streets: "Kill them all! Leave none alive!" The words hung heavy in the air, a chilling confirmation of the brutality they faced. His mind raced, desperately searching for the perpetrator behind the plague and the puppet poison, two horrors that had already claimed countless lives.

But there was no time for rumination. Survival was paramount. He grabbed Su Ruo's hand, his grip surprisingly firm despite the tremor running through his arm. Her eyes, wide with fear, mirrored his own trepidation. Xiao Zhan, clinging to Su Ruo's leg, whimpered softly.

They sprinted, a desperate trio against the backdrop of chaos. The rhythmic patter of rain on their heads blended with the pounding of Xiao Fan's heart, a frantic drumbeat echoing the urgency of their escape. An arrow, a blur of deadly intent, pierced the air, aiming directly for Su Ruo. Without hesitation, Xiao Fan lunged, throwing himself in front of her.

The world seemed to slow as the arrow found its mark, slamming into his right shoulder with a sickening thud. A jolt of searing pain ripped through him, stealing his breath. He cried out, a guttural yell that dissolved into a choked gasp. His vision blurred at the edges, the rain mingling with the metallic tang of blood that welled up in his mouth.

Ignoring the searing agony, he pushed Su Ruo and Xiao Zhan into the concealing embrace of the nearby bushes. As he stumbled back, his legs buckling beneath him, a crimson stain blossomed on his once white tunic, spreading like a macabre flower. He collapsed onto the rain-soaked earth, his hand instinctively clutching at the wound.

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