The smoke had not lifted.
Not from the streets. Not from the shrines. Not from their minds.
Though the Southern Prayer Procession had ended, something lingered. The scent of scorched oil and ash hung not only in fabric and hair, but in thought. Ministers could not sleep. Nobles muttered to themselves. The commoners bowed lower at their altars now — but not out of reverence.
Out of fear.
And none feared more than Wu Kang.
Eastern Palace
He stared at the missive in his hand.
Confirmed: Lady Consort Xian, deceased. Shrine name spoken in ritual fire. Source unknown.
There was no explanation. No body. No clear ritual leader.
Only a name whispered by smoke.
"She's dead," he whispered to himself. "She's dead, she's dead…"
But the shrine flame remembered.
And the gate had opened.
Wu Kang paced the lacquered floors, his bare feet smudging the polished wood. His eyes were wild. He hadn't slept since the ceremony. Not truly.
"He used her," he said aloud. "That's what he's become."
But part of him knew: Wu An wasn't that careless. Or that cruel.
So who had done it?
Wu Jin? Shen Yue? Or… something older?
Taian entered without knocking.
"Still reading that?"
"I saw her." Wu Kang's voice shook. "At the altar. Not just her name. Her face. I know it was her."
Taian said nothing.
"She looked at me, Tai."
"Then what do you want?" Taian finally asked. "Revenge? A declaration?"
Wu Kang's jaw clenched.
"I want to know who did it. And why my mother's soul was in his fire."
Taian poured himself a drink. "Then ask the one who controls the southern shrines."
Wu Kang slammed his fist on the table.
"Then I'll tear him if I must."
Wu An's Estate
The fire still whispered.
I sat alone in the garden hall, listening to the brazier that had once held the offering smoke.
The ash was cold now.
But something still flickered in it.
Not light.
A memory.
I traced the edge of the empty prayer scroll.
Wu Jin had not sent word since the festival.
And Shen Yue, usually calm, now walked like a shadow at dusk — half-present, half watching something only she could see.
"You didn't cause her death," she said suddenly.
"I never claimed I didn't."
"But you think it."
I didn't respond.
Shen Yue knelt beside the brazier.
"The gods took what they were given," she said. "But they weren't given by your hand."
I looked at her. "You sound certain."
"I'm not. That's what makes it terrifying."
Then she reached into her robe.
A small paper box — folded like an old votive envelope. She handed it to me.
"This was left on your doorstep. No mark. No seal."
I opened it.
Inside — a lock of gray hair.
And beneath it, a note:
"She chose."
My breath caught.
I said nothing.
But the wind through the shrine trees moaned like distant bells.
Court Hall – Following Day
The ministers were divided.
The people were whispering too much. The nobles were confused. The merchant guilds began sending offerings to my estate without prompt.
Minister Shen Yuan stood stiff as a spear.
"We must investigate the source of the shrine name. This cannot be considered legitimate until the rites are verified."
The Lord Protector looked to me.
"What do you say?"
"I say the gods answered," I replied.
Murmurs.
Minister Shen flared.
"So the gods now whisper death to their chosen sons?"
"Perhaps they whisper truth," I said. "And some of us are finally listening."
Wu Jin, seated far to the side, smiled just slightly.
The Emperor remained silent, as always.
"The people believe in what happened," I continued. "Even if we do not understand it."
"And you?" asked the Lord Protector. "Do you understand it?"
"Not yet," I said. "But I intend to."
Later – Wu Kang's Private Quarters
He had smashed the mirrors.
All of them.
The faces that looked back weren't his anymore. Too tired. Too pale. Too much of her in his cheekbones.
He drank the old wine, the one meant for funerals.
And finally, he turned to Taian.
"Find someone who knows death. Not politics. Not incense. Death."
"What do you want?"
"A name." Wu Kang's eyes glowed with something darker than rage. "I don't care if it's Wu An. Or someone behind him. I just want to know who used her."
Shrine District – Hidden Room
That night, Shen Yue lit a single candle.
Wu An stood before her.
"You felt it too," he said.
"I still do."
"What was she?"
"A mother. A consort. A loyalist."
"No. In the fire."
Shen Yue closed her eyes.
"She was the bridge."
Wu An's breath hitched.
"Between what and what?"
She looked up.
"Between you and what's waiting."
The candle sputtered.
And for a moment, the shadows in the corners of the shrine bowed inward.
Like listening.
Later That Night – Imperial Shrine
I returned alone.
The ashes had cooled.
But in my mind, the woman in red still stood.
Watching.
Not angry.
Not vengeful.
Just patient.
"If it wasn't me," I whispered to her memory, "then who?"
The wind didn't answer.
But something inside me stirred.
And somewhere in the city, the bells began to ring again — even though they had shattered.