A QUESTION WITHOUT AN ANSWER
The silence after the Crown Prince's question felt endless.
"Why do you both look as though you already know how it ends?"
Shen Qingyi kept her expression calm through sheer force of will.
Beside her, Lin Ruoxue remained perfectly still.
Too still.
Xiao Yichen watched them patiently.
Waiting.
Observing.
The same way a hunter waited for movement in tall grass.
Qingyi lowered her gaze.
"Your Highness misunderstands."
"Do I?"
His voice remained calm.
Qingyi forced herself to meet his eyes.
"The palace has swallowed countless people before us."
She gestured toward the window.
"Every corridor holds stories. Every courtyard remembers tragedy. We are women entering a place where fortunes change overnight."
Her voice softened.
"How can we not wonder about the ending?"
The Crown Prince regarded her for several moments.
Then he smiled faintly.
"A clever answer."
Not acceptance.
Not belief.
Simply acknowledgment.
He knew she had avoided the question.
But for now, he allowed it.
Finally, he rose.
"The Mid-Autumn Banquet is five days away."
His gaze shifted briefly between the two women.
"Do not give the court reason to speak."
Then he left.
Only after the doors closed did either of them breathe.
Ruoxue immediately collapsed into a chair.
"He knows."
"No."
Qingyi rubbed her forehead.
"He suspects."
"That's worse."
Unfortunately, Ruoxue was right.
Suspicion grew.
Certainty merely arrived later.
The following morning brought news.
Bad news.
The palace buzzed with whispers long before breakfast.
By noon, everyone knew.
Gu Changye had returned.
The young duke's heir had spent three years traveling the frontier provinces before abruptly returning to the capital.
In the original novel, this happened much later.
Months later.
Another change.
Another deviation.
Qingyi sat beneath a plum tree reading reports when Ruoxue appeared.
"He's here."
Qingyi looked up.
"You saw him?"
Ruoxue nodded.
Her expression was complicated.
Uneasy.
Confused.
Perhaps even frightened.
"He was outside the palace gates."
"What happened?"
Ruoxue sat opposite her.
"He didn't approach."
That surprised Qingyi.
"In fact," Ruoxue continued, "he simply watched."
"Watched?"
Ruoxue nodded.
"The entire time."
A chill traveled down Qingyi's spine.
That sounded worse.
Much worse.
Obsession was dangerous.
Patience was terrifying.
Because patient people planned.
That evening, a messenger arrived.
Not from the palace.
Not from the Crown Prince.
From Gu Manor.
The servant presented an elegant wooden box.
"For Lady Lin."
Ruoxue frowned.
Inside rested a single jade hairpin.
White jade.
Perfectly carved.
Beautiful.
And immediately recognizable.
Ruoxue's face drained of color.
Qingyi grabbed the box.
"What is it?"
Ruoxue swallowed.
"In the novel..."
Her voice trembled.
"This was the gift he gave me before my execution."
Silence.
Neither woman spoke.
The implications were obvious.
Gu Changye remembered.
Not fragments.
Not emotions.
Specific events.
Specific timelines.
Specific futures.
Qingyi closed the box immediately.
"Burn it."
Ruoxue nodded.
For once, neither argued.
That night, far beyond the palace walls, Gu Changye stood on the balcony of Gu Manor.
Moonlight painted silver across the city.
His dark robes stirred gently in the wind.
A servant approached cautiously.
"My lord."
No response.
"The gift was delivered."
At last, Gu Changye smiled.
A sad smile.
A lonely smile.
The smile of someone who had lost something precious long ago.
"Did she accept it?"
"No."
The servant hesitated.
"It was destroyed."
Gu Changye laughed softly.
Exactly as expected.
Because this Ruoxue was different.
Not the girl from the book.
Not entirely.
His eyes lifted toward the distant palace.
"I found you."
The wind carried his words away.
"Even after death."