The posthouse at Tianlai sat quiet under a chill morning light. Ji Yunyi had been waiting in the main hall since dawn, his face set in brooding lines. Ji Yunxi had gone missing overnight, and with her vanished the prince, Feng Xingzhi. Worry knotted his stomach; he said nothing as he watched the door.
Not long after, the doors burst open. Servants shouldered a limp figure between them, and Ji Yunxi hurried in at their side. Her hair was disheveled, cheeks flushed with fear.
“Yunxi—” Ji Yunyi sprang up before he could think; his voice cracked on the name.
“Second brother, Prince Feng has fainted. Send General Su for a doctor—at once!” Ji Yunxi’s words tumbled out, urgent and breathless.
Ji Yunyi felt his heart drop. Feng Xingzhi held a perilous rank; any calamity would be difficult to explain to the court. He swallowed his questions and went to fetch Su Ningyuan himself, then followed Ji Yunxi back toward the bedchamber where Feng lay.
With the room empty of strangers, Ji Yunyi’s face hardened. “Yunxi, what happened? What were you doing outside in the middle of the night with the prince? Why is he in this state?”
Ji Yuyan, who had been lingering nearby with a small, satisfied smile, seized the opening. “Sister, even if you and the prince are betrothed, you’re not yet married. A young woman leaving home with a man at night—doesn’t that seem improper?”
That jab flicked like a match. Ji Yunyi snapped, “Ji Yuyan—shut your mouth! This is none of your concern.”
Ji Yuyan tossed a thin laugh, as if to say she’d only spoken the obvious. Ji Yunxi, already raw from having been poisoned the night before, stared at her with cold fury. There was something in her look that made Ji Yuyan step back a pace.
“I was poisoned last night,” Ji Yunxi said quietly, all the accusation packed into her steady gaze. “If not for Prince Feng’s intervention it would have been far worse. As for our coming back from outside—he went with me to look for an antidote. Little sister, you are still young, but you speak too freely. You’ve sulied my name—do you even think you’ll be married off after this?”
Ji Yuyan’s face fell; she hadn’t expected Ji Yunxi to answer like that. Behind her composure trembled a flinch—she hadn’t realized how sharp Yunxi could be.
The doctor arrived with General Su. He took Feng’s pulse with practiced hands. Though the prince had lost consciousness, the verdict was a relief: a high fever brought on by severe chill, not poison—no fatal signs. A hush of relief passed through the room.
He examined Ji Yunxi as well. Her pulse was steady; there was no sign of lingering toxin.
Ji Yunyi relaxed for the first time that morning, but Ji Yunxi’s brow remained troubled. On the walk back she had known: the night before, Feng had plunged into the frozen lake to fetch a remedy and remained there with her until morning. He had been exposed to that cold all night; now he burned with fever. Yet Ji Yunxi herself bore no trace of cold or poison. The only explanation was that Feng had somehow shielded her. But everyone in Nan Yan knew the prince had a frail constitution and little spiritual strength—he would not be the kind to possess such protective power. It seemed impossible.
“Prince needs rest,” Ji Yunxi said, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. “We should leave him in peace. And—last night needs to be looked into.”
She fell back toward the corridor and found Su Ningyuan waiting where the shadow was deepest.
“General Su—wait.”
Ji Yunxi kept her voice low. Su’s expression was unreadable until she spoke plainly. “Where did the cloud cakes come from last night?”
Su frowned. “Cloud cakes? Second Miss brought them here last night. Is that…?”
The name of the confection—soft, pillowy pastries called yun gao—suddenly made the picture snap into focus for Ji Yunxi. Her eyes darkened. If Ji Yuyan had delivered those cakes, then the chain of events began to make sense.
“General Su, that batch was poisoned. That’s why the prince and I went out looking for an antidote.”
Su’s face went white. For a long heartbeat he could only stare at her, his hands dropping uselessly to his sides.
“Then I—” He broke off, hand clenching and unclenching with the weight of what he might have missed.
Ji Yunxi’s mind raced. Something else nagged at her. She hurried toward Ji Yuyan’s room, Su close behind. The tray that had held the cloud cakes was gone—only a clean dish remained. Su’s face hardened into anger so fierce it flushed his neck. He strode forward and knocked without ceremony.
Ji Yuyan opened, framed in the doorway, and for a second she looked genuinely startled by the intensity in Su’s eyes. “General Su, what—”
“You gave those cakes to Miss Ji?” Su’s voice cut clean and cold.
Ji Yuyan’s hand that had been hidden in her sleeve clutched tighter, but she kept control. “What are you talking about? Poison in a cake? Who told you such a thing?”
Su’s gaze bore into her as if he could read through flesh. “You delivered the pastries. No one else touched them after you. Miss Ji fell ill after eating them. Do you deny it?”
Relief flushed across Ji Yuyan’s features—no proof, she thought. Words without evidence could not condemn her. How dare Su accuse her of playing such a part? Inwardly she seethed: it was his fault for spurning me—he refused my hand, and now he turned on me for a scandal.
Tears came to her eyes as she put on the injured, beseeching act. “General Su, I… I have always admired you. I bore no grudge when you declined my offer. Why would I harm my sister? Why would I poison anyone?”
Ji Yunyi, who had been standing just inside, was quick. “You said in the past you’d used petty schemes and caused trouble,” he cut in, voice sharp as a blade. “Wasn’t this another of your tricks to strike back at the general? Do you deny that your schemes have hurt Yunxi as well?”
Ji Yuyan stammered. “I—no—”
Ji Yunxi watched it all from the doorway. The pieces fit: Ji Yuyan had tried to win Su’s favor, and when he had rebuffed her she’d slipped the cakes into Yunxi’s hands in a petty, bitter fit. Ji Yunxi could have exposed her sister’s folly, but family matters could not be ignored. The Ji household’s reputation would pay the price if the scandal went further.
Ji Yunyi’s temper flared. He’d had enough of his sister’s reckless behavior; she had pushed the family too far this time.
“You have caused enough trouble,” he said, voice iron. “You’re to return to the capital immediately.”
Ji Yuyan’s composure collapsed into frantic pleading. “Second brother—please, don’t send me away. I was wrong, I—”
But Ji Yunyi was unmoved. The family could not afford another disgrace. Orders were given and carried out: Ji Yuyan would leave for the capital at once.
They had only cleared Seven Star Pass when a pigeon burst from the window of the carriage and soared into the grey sky. A small, folded paper hung from its leg. Ji Yunyi barely spared it a glance before the bird was gone.
Ji Yunyi read the hastily penned words and his hands tightened around the reins. The note said only this: “Ji Yunxi will soon be going to the West Rong. Proceed as planned.”
A coldness spread through him—a new strand of danger threading itself through the morning’s events. The night’s poison, the empty plate, Ji Yuyan’s sudden departure, and now a covert message—none of it would be finished by morning.