Chapter 2: Unlikely Meeting

  The night of the banquet had finally arrived. The roads leading to the Amber Palace were a river of light and motion, the air filled with the clatter of carriage wheels on stone and the low hum of conversation. Wagons belonging to wealthy merchants, carriages bearing the crests of noble families, and scholars from every corner of Ruhong all converged on the grand gates, drawn by the King's decree.

  Inside, the grand hall was a dazzling spectacle of gold and amber. Music from a string quartet drifted from a high balcony, weaving through the polite laughter and the clinking of crystal glasses. In a quiet corner, away from the main throng of guests, Lin Meihua stood alone, a silent observer in the sea of celebration.

  She wore a long, black gown that seemed to drink the candlelight, its fabric dotted with tiny, shimmering points of light like a captured night sky. Glowing, geometric lines of pale blue crisscrossed the dress, tracing the elegant lines of her form. Long, white gloves covered her arms, and in one hand, she held a glass of expensive wine. She rarely drank, but tonight, the stifling formality of the banquet felt like a weight on her chest, and the wine was a small, bitter rebellion against it.

  She took a slow, deliberate sip, the wine doing little to numb the familiar ache of performance. Here I am again, she thought, her silver eyes sweeping over the crowd of smiling faces. What is my purpose at these gatherings? Do they require Lin Meihua, or do they simply need the 'Snow Flower' to stand in a corner and look beautiful? The weight of their gazes felt like a physical pressure, each admiring glance another thread in the beautiful cage she called her life.

  A familiar voice, warm but with an edge of authority, cut through her thoughts. "Hiding in the shadows, Lin? That's not like you."

  Lin turned to see her master, Zhu Lihua, approaching. She immediately straightened her posture and bowed. "Master Lihua."

  "Be at ease," Zhu said, her eyes scanning Lin's face. "Are you feeling better? Did the two days of rest help?"

  Lin's lips curved into a practiced, polite smile that didn't quite reach her silver eyes. "Yes, Master. I am fine now. Thank you for your concern."

  Zhu saw the smile for what it was—a beautiful, well-crafted lie—but decided not to press the matter. Instead, her gaze drifted to the wine glass in Lin's hand. "It's rare to see you drinking."

  "Oh, this?" Lin said, lifting the glass slightly as if just noticing it herself. "I find I quite like the taste." Another lie, smooth and effortless.

  Before Zhu could respond, their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a regal figure. King Qin Hong, monarch of Ruhong, approached them with a warm but commanding presence. Both Lin and Zhu immediately bowed.

  "Your Majesty," they said in unison.

  "At ease, both of you," the King said, his gaze settling on Zhu. "Commander Lihua, I need you to accompany me. The esteemed scientist from Volnear has just arrived, and I wish for you to be present as we greet him." He then turned to Lin, his smile paternal. "And Lin Meihua, I look forward to hearing of your continued achievements. You are the pride of Jinlun and Ruhong as a whole."

  Lin simply bowed again, her own smile feeling tighter than ever. As the King and Zhu walked away, she saw Xiang Feng making his way toward her, his face bright with excitement. But before he could reach her, he was swallowed by a wave of people. Nobles, merchants, and scholars descended upon Lin like vultures, their faces a blur of opportunistic smiles.

  "Lady Meihua, a marvel on the battlefield as always! I offer my gratitude for saving my wares" a portly merchant declared.

  "My son has just come of age. A union between our families would be most fortuitous, please consider lady Meihua" a noblewoman whispered, her eyes gleaming.

  "My daughter is also available!" another added quickly.

  "Lady Meihua, your perspective on the Volnear rail system's defensive vulnerabilities would be invaluable," a scholar interjected, holding out a scroll.

  The voices swarmed her, a suffocating tide of flattery and expectation. Every word was a transaction, every smile a request. Lin felt a wave of nausea rise in her throat. She wanted to scream, to throw up, to vanish. Instead, she took a long sip of her wine. Then another. She would grab a fresh glass from a passing servant each time someone new approached, the bitter taste a welcome distraction. Again, and again, and again, until she no longer knew how many glasses she had drunk, the golden lights of the grand hall beginning to blur at the edges.

  Stop, a voice screamed inside her head. Stop talking. Stop looking at me. Stop wanting something from me. The polite smile on her face felt like a crack in a porcelain mask. Stop. Stop. Stop.

  "Stop!"

  The word burst from her lips, sharp and raw, cutting through the polite chatter of the grand hall. The music from the quartet faltered, a single violin note hanging awkwardly in the air. The crowd around her froze, their opportunistic smiles wiped clean, replaced by stunned silence.

  Even across the hall, the King and Zhu Lihua stopped mid-conversation, their heads turning in her direction. The entire banquet had gone still, every eye in the room now fixed on the 'Snow Flower,' who stood trembling in her corner, her silver eyes wide with a mixture of horror and relief.

  Through the haze of wine, Lin realized what she had done. The mask had not just cracked; it had shattered. For a terrifying second, she felt naked, exposed. Then, centuries of discipline kicked in. She straightened her posture, the tremble in her hands ceasing as she composed herself, the polite, empty smile returning to her lips as if it had never left.

  The crowd began to murmur, but before the whispers could turn to gossip, Xiang Feng pushed his way through the stunned nobles and scholars. "Are you alright, Senior?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

  No, she thought. I am not. But the word that came out was different. "I am fine, Xiang Feng," she said, her voice smooth and steady, betraying none of the storm raging inside her. She gave a small, apologetic laugh that sounded surprisingly genuine. "It appears the wine has been a bit stronger than I anticipated. My apologies to everyone for the disturbance."

  She bowed gracefully to the surrounding crowd. "If you will excuse me, I must visit the washroom for a moment. We can resume our discussions when I return."

  The tension in the room instantly broke. Laughter and polite murmurs rippled through the crowd as they nodded in understanding. Of course, that was it. A clever, if dramatic, way to get some space. They parted ways, allowing her a path to leave, their admiration for her poise unwavering. They didn't see the crack, Lin thought, a bitter wave of disgust washing over her. They didn't notice the smile was fake. How could they? They are not here to seek a connection with a person; they are here to use a symbol.

  In reality, Lin did not go to the washroom. To her, it was simply an excuse—a necessary one. She had to flee this cage. The moment she was out of sight, she turned down a long, empty corridor, her serene grace gone. Her steps were floaty, unsteady, the intoxication a welcome fog in her mind that blurred the sharp edges of her panic. Just get out, she thought, her own heartbeat a frantic drum against her ribs. Anywhere. Just away from them.

  The long, ornate hallways of the Amber Palace, usually a symbol of her status and power, now felt like an endless, mocking labyrinth. Every golden tapestry seemed to watch her, every polished suit of armor reflected a distorted version of the perfect 'Snow Flower' she was supposed to be. The music of the banquet faded behind her, but the feeling of a thousand eyes on her back remained, a phantom weight she couldn't shrug off. She didn't care if she stumbled. She just needed to find an exit—not just from the party, but from herself.

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  Finally, after what felt like an eternity of wandering through identical golden corridors, she was there: the small, unassuming back entrance used by servants and for discreet deliveries. It was empty. Most of the palace workers were preoccupied with the banquet, and no noble or merchant would ever know this exit even existed. It was the perfect escape.

  She pushed the heavy wooden door open, a wave of relief washing over her as she anticipated the cool night air. But what greeted her was not quiet, but chaos. A torrential downpour, cold and unending, lashed down from the black sky, turning the cobblestone alley into a churning river. Just my luck, she muttered, the words a bitter taste on her tongue.

  She wanted to leave, to run into the night and never look back, but even the universe seemed to reject her. The storm was a wall, a final, mocking barrier. Is this it? she thought, the wine and despair mixing into a thick, heavy fog in her mind. Is this all there is? Should she just turn around, go back to the banquet like nothing happened? Back to that stuffy, fake performance where people crowded around her, not to see her, but to take a piece of what she represented? The thought made her feel sicker than the wine ever could.

  A strange sort of calm washed over her then, a reckless abandon born from intoxication and a desire to leave that was now stronger than any storm. She didn't care anymore. The cold of the rain was nothing compared to the coldness of the grand hall. With a deep breath, she stepped out into the downpour.

  The rain hit her instantly, soaking her elegant gown in seconds, plastering her midnight-blue hair to her face and shoulders. But she was used to the cold. She walked, and walked, and walked. She didn't know where she was going, and she didn't stop to look for directions. She just kept walking, one foot in front of the other, her silver eyes fixed on the blurred lights of the city ahead. She had no destination, no plan, not a care in the world. People huddled under awnings would occasionally look at her, a rich-looking girl in a ruined gown walking through a heavy rainstorm, but their stares couldn't stop her. She didn't even see them.

  Eventually, her aimless wandering led her into a dark, narrow alleyway, far from the golden glow of the Sunstone Ward. In front of her, a lone lantern flickered, a small point of light in the storm. It hung from a simple food cart, its owner struggling to keep the canvas awning from being torn away by the wind.

  She walked forward, her elegant heels slipping on the wet cobblestones. Then, her ankle twisted. She stumbled, a small, undignified gasp escaping her lips as she fell, landing squarely in a dirty puddle. The cold, grimy water soaked through her ruined gown, a final, humiliating touch to a night of quiet desperation. What am I even doing? she thought, the fight finally leaving her.

  Just as she was about to give in, to just lie there in the rain and the mud, a hand reached out to her.

  "Are you alright, miss?" a quiet voice asked, cutting through the sound of the storm. "Do you need help?"

  Lin looked up, her vision blurred by the wine and the rain. She could barely make out the person's face, just a silhouette against the flickering lantern light. They held an umbrella over her, but it was old and worn, riddled with small holes that let the rainwater drip through, pattering softly on her hair and shoulders.

  "I am not okay!" she shouted, the words a raw, unfiltered burst of emotion that had been building for years. "How can I be okay? They treat me like I’m a doll! A mascot! They always want me to do more, to be more, to do something for them!"

  She pushed herself up to her elbows, the dirty puddle water dripping from her ruined gown. "I am tired," she kept shouting, her voice cracking, rambling like the drunk she was. "So, so tired."

  Her regal accent and tone were completely gone, replaced by the raw, pleading voice of someone who had simply had enough. "I want to leave. I want to go. Please, take me somewhere. I don't care where. Gods, Lords, Sacreds, Humans... I don't care. Just take me away."

  The young man holding the umbrella was left completely speechless. He didn't answer, but he didn't pull his hand back either. Before him was a woman who looked as if she had stepped out of a painting, now soaked and sobbing in a dirty alleyway. The situation was so bizarre that he didn't know what to make of it. Every instinct told him to walk away—this was trouble, the kind that got people like him arrested or worse. But he can’t. He couldn't just leave her here, shivering in the middle of a storm. What if she got sick? Or worse, what if those 'terrible people' she was talking about came looking for her? He glanced back at the food cart, where the owner, having witnessed the entire display, simply shook his head and waved a dismissive hand, as if to say, She's all yours, kid. Not worth the trouble.

  The young man scratched the top of his head, rain dripping from his messy black hair. Hope this won't bring me further trouble, he thought with a sigh. This will be the last time I pick up a rich girl from a rainstorm, I swear.

  He finally spoke, his voice calm and steady. "I know a place. Please, come with me if you don't mind. I don't know your whole story, but I can't just leave you drenched in the rain like this." He paused, then asked gently, "What do you think?"

  Lin nodded, her head still bowed. Whoever this person was, their place had to be better than both the banquet and the rain.

  "Can you walk?" the young man asked.

  Lin shook her head. Not because she couldn't, but because she didn't know if she had the mental capacity to take another step right now.

  "Then... I'm sorry for my rude gesture, but climb on," he said, crouching down and turning his back to her, gesturing for her to climb on for a piggyback ride.

  Without a second thought, Lin quickly climbed onto his back, her arms wrapping around his neck. She didn't care anymore. If this person was evil, if he wanted to kill her, it might be better than returning to the hollow grandeur of the palace. As she steadied herself, the young man stood up, one arm supporting her legs to keep her from slipping, the other still holding the worn, hole-ridden umbrella.

  "Hold on, miss," he said, his voice steady despite the strain. "It's not far from here."

  His voice was calm, but Lin could feel a faint tremor in his body. Is he nervous? she wondered, her head resting against his shoulder. Or is he just not strong enough to lift me? The thought was rude, she knew, but once again, she didn't care.

  The young man started walking. His small frame was indeed not strong enough to lift her properly, but he couldn't show that to this girl who was clearly in distress. So he braced himself and tried his best to walk straight. They walked for what seemed to be ten minutes, their path taking them deeper into the unnamed district, until they arrived in front of an old and decrepit apartment complex. The building looked barely usable, its wooden balconies sagging and its paint peeling, but here they were. The young man began to take the stairs to the second floor, each step a slow, careful ascent.

  "We're here, miss," he said, stopping in front of a door with a faded "#4B" painted on it. He reached into his pocket for his key, but comically, the door just swung open with a soft creak before he could even insert it.

  "Right... the lock doesn't work anymore," the young man muttered with a sigh, making a bad joke over the condition of his own apartment. "Top-tier security, as you can see."

  He walked in, Lin still clinging to his back. Inside, he carefully set her down, letting her rest against the far wall of the room. He then moved to a small table and lit a single oil lantern. A soft, warm light flickered to life, pushing back the darkness and illuminating the entire apartment.

  "It ain't much, but make yourself at home, I guess," the young man said, another awkward joke to fill the silence. "Wait here, I'll grab a clean towel."

  With her remaining consciousness, Lin scanned the room. The first thing that stood out to her was how small it was. The doorway led directly into a single, multipurpose room. To the left was what she presumed was a bathroom, and in the corner, a small kitchen area with a single stove. The entire apartment was smaller than any single room she had ever lived in back at the Amber Palace.

  As her silver eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw more. Empty beer crates were used as chairs. The small table the lantern sat on was barely standing on three wobbly legs. The windows were cracked and patched with tape, and she could see a dark stain on the ceiling where the rain was leaking through a hole in the roof. A wardrobe in the corner was missing its door.

  Do people live like this? she thought, the question a genuine, startling revelation in her wine-addled mind. And yet, as the fog of wine began to clear, she noticed something else. The room, for all its poverty, was impeccably clean. There was no dust on the wobbly table, the floorboards were swept, and a faint, fragrant scent of dried herbs hung in the air, a stark contrast to the grime of the alley outside.

  The room was quiet, the only sound the soft drumming of the rain on the leaky roof. It's quiet, she thought, a strange sense of peace settling over her for the first time all night. Maybe... this isn't so bad. As the thought faded, the exhaustion of the night finally caught up to her. Her silver eyes fluttered closed, and she passed out, slumping against the wall.

  "Here's the towel, miss," the young man said, returning from the bathroom. But all he saw was the girl, already fast asleep. She was breathing deeply, her expression peaceful in a way that suggested she hadn't truly slept in years. He didn't dare wake her up, not in the state she was in.

  He knelt down and gently dabbed at the rainwater on her face and hair with the towel. Then, he carefully draped it over her shoulders and went to his bed to retrieve his only blanket, a thin but clean wool coverlet, and laid it over her.

  Leaving her to her deep sleep, the man stood up and walked to the taped window, looking out at the unending rain. He remembered the encounter in the alley, her raw, desperate cries. But what stood out most was the brief glimpse he'd caught of her eyes in the lantern light.

  "Silver eyes," he muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper. He glanced back at the sleeping girl, a strange mix of awe and dread twisting in his gut. "You're not her, right? You can't be."

  He let out a long, slow breath. "I hope I'm wrong. But if I'm right... why is a girl like you out here, alone in the rain?"