The courtyard was peaceful in the early dawn, cloaked in a thin mist that clung to the garden's margins like a secret. Servants swept the stone paths with long, methodical strokes, their faces numb with the regularity of another royal day.
Lian walked among them like a ghost with memories.
He no longer walked like the shy youngster he had been. His steps were careful now—light but vigilant, as if the shadows themselves might whisper betrayal.
Because they might.
The Kitchen: Where the Poison Was Placed
He returned to the inner kitchen before the sun rose, settling into his familiar pattern. Chop. Boil. Taste. Clean. Repeat. To the rest, he was just Lian, the low-born kitchen helper who was always too quiet.
But in his mind, he had already died once.
And he knew where the poison had been placed—the duck soup prepared for the Emperor's Mid-Autumn tribute. The banquet was still six days away. That means whoever framed him was already making arrangements.
He scanned the faces of the kitchen staff:
Old Chef Bo, who had a terrible back and a worse attitude.
Mei, the herbalist who crushed spices and sometimes added medications.
Jun, a silent boy who rarely spoke yet had firm hands.
Lady Wei's eunuch, who came and went at odd hours with special commands.
He observed all of them. Every motion. Every gaze.
Someone among them was guilty.
The Letter That Wasn't There Before That evening, Lian returned to the servant quarters and found something hidden beneath his mat.
A note.
He paused, then unfolded it with cautious fingers.
"Stay quiet if you value your tongue. You've already been lucky once."
His blood ran cold.
They knew.
Whoever arranged the crime… knew he had returned. Or at least suspected he was no longer the same. That meant one of two things:
He had already grabbed notice just by watching.
Or… someone else had lived through this timeline before.
A New Piece in the Game
That night, Lian didn't sleep.
He replayed everything from his prior life.
He remembered the closing banquet. The golden bowl. The incense. The moment the Emperor fainted mid-speech, face pallid and convulsing. He remembered how Lady Wei shouted, how Minister Cao stepped forward too quickly—too prepared.
And then the investigation. The interrogation. The lie.
"Servant Lian prepared the duck soup. He handled the bowls. He had access to the herb stores."
Every truth had been stretched till it was a noose.
Now, with six days left, he knew the story would repeat—unless he cut the thread beforehand.
A Dangerous Plan Begins
At morning, he approached Mei the herbalist under the pretense of assisting grind dry mushrooms. Her hands moved skillfully over the mortar, but her eyes were continuously darting—watching, calculating.
"You always sneak out before nightfall," he said gently, crushing roots beside her. "Your room must be very peaceful."
She paused only for a second before smiling. "Only fools stay out after dark. Too many rats and whispers."
"But you walk near Lady Wei's hall, don't you? I believed that wing was sealed for repairs."
Another pause. Slight. Subtle. But to Lian, trained by murder and betrayal, it was as loud as thunder.
She's linked.
A Servant, Not a Pawn
Later that night, he slipped through the servant passageways, footfall silent on the old wooden planks. He reached the restricted wing—once locked off following a fire. But he remembered from his prior life: a narrow servant tunnel led through the walls there.
And if Mei had reason to travel there… so would he.
Behind loose brickwork and half-scorched beams, Lian huddled in darkness. He heard voices echoing faintly.
One of them was Mei's.
The other—calm, profound, cold—belonged to Minister Cao.
"The boy may remember something. I don't trust coincidences," Cao said.
"Then I'll watch him," Mei answered. "He won't speak. Not if he knows what's good for him."
"See that he doesn't."
So it's true.
Mei wasn't just involved—she was working directly for Minister Cao.
And Minister Cao feared Lian's return.
Lian Smiled in the Dark
He should have been terrified.
But for the first time since waking up in this new life, he felt something else instead.
Power.
They didn't know everything. They didn't realize he had already lived through their entire plot. That he knew the order of deaths, the shifting allegiances, the fear in Minister Cao's eyes when the Emperor died too soon.
They felt he was a pawn.
But this time, he would not die in silence.
This time, he would become the poison in their game.