Chapter 4: A Heart Touched by Fire
The sun had not yet risen when Mei Lian opened her eyes.
She hadn't slept. Not truly. Her body lay still on the silken mattress, but her mind had been a battlefield, waging war between the assassin she used to be and the woman she was pretending to be.
Only now, she wasn't sure which one was pretending anymore.
The memory of Prince Rui's voice echoed in her ears.
> "You're not the prey they think you are, are you, Mei Lian?"
She had met hundreds of men, killed dozens, and deceived more. But none had ever looked at her like he did—not with desire, fear, or admiration—but with recognition. Like he was trying to unravel her slowly and purposefully.
And what scared her most was how part of her wanted to let him.
Later that morning, the peace shattered.
A scream pierced the air.
Mei Lian jolted from her thoughts just as her maid stumbled into her chamber, pale and trembling.
"M-Miss Mei! One of the palace maids—she's… she's been killed!"
Mei Lian rose instantly. "Where?"
"The inner corridor, near the Eastern Pavilion."
That was where Prince Rui's private archives were kept.
Without waiting for permission, Mei Lian gathered her robe and rushed out. The palace buzzed like a disturbed beehive. Courtiers whispered in fear. Guards lined the corridors, weapons drawn; something that almost never happened on royal grounds.
Blood stained the white marble. A maid's body lay cold and crumpled beneath the cherry blossom tree. Her eyes were still wide with terror. Her throat slit cleanly, precisely.
Mei Lian knew the method.
This was not an accident.
This was an assassin's work.
And worse—this was her former world reaching into her new one.
A hand landed on her shoulder. She turned sharply to find Prince Rui standing beside her.
He looked calm, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed his fury. His guards flanked him, awaiting his command.
"Miss Mei," he said in a low voice, "you shouldn't be here."
"I heard the scream," she replied, controlling her breath. "Was she one of your servants?"
He nodded grimly. "She handled the record books. Loyal. Quiet. Someone with no enemies."
His eyes scanned the scene and then landed on her. "This wasn't meant for her."
Her blood ran cold.
"What are you saying?"
He stepped closer. "I think the assassin missed their mark."
The air between them turned sharp.
Her gaze hardened. "And who was the real target?"
He didn't answer directly. Just watched her with that same unreadable intensity. "You."
That night, everything changed.
Mei Lian stood alone in her courtyard, lanterns casting soft glows against the bamboo walls. A storm brewed overhead, the wind restless. She couldn't stay still, not when someone was targeting her.
But who?
Who else remembered her?
Who else from her past was inside this world?
Her hands curled into fists. She had buried that life, or so she thought. But now it clawed its way back, piece by piece.
She wasn't afraid of death. She just didn't know who she could protect anymore.
A rustle in the trees caught her attention. Too quiet for the wind.
She moved on instinct—fast and silent, her body remembering a hundred past lives of evasion and attack. She reached for the hairpin in her hair—her weapon of choice—and flung it without hesitation.
Clink.
It collided with metal.
A blade gleamed from the shadows, deflecting her strike.
Mei Lian dropped into a crouch, ready for another attack when the shadow stepped forward and was caught in the light.
**Prince Rui.**
He sheathed his sword slowly, eyeing the hairpin now embedded in the stone pillar.
"You don't hesitate," he murmured.
"You shouldn't sneak up on people," she replied sharply, her heart pounding.
He stepped closer. "I wasn't sneaking. I came to warn you."
She stared at him, breathing hard. "You think I need protection?"
"No." He tilted his head. "But you're still human."
She turned away, trying to calm the storm inside her.
"I lived most of my life hunted," she said quietly. "When people finally stopped chasing me, I thought I could live like everyone else. Now I see I was just waiting for the next blade."
He said nothing for a long moment. Then, softly, "You know how to kill."
Her spine stiffened.
He stepped in front of her, voice low. "I don't know who you are, Mei Lian. But you don't move like a noble lady. You don't flinch at blood. You don't cower like the others."
"And yet," she whispered, "you're not afraid of me."
He stepped even closer. "I should be. But I'm not."
His gaze burned into hers, and the air between them snapped tight like a bowstring about to break.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I've spent my whole life surrounded by liars, cowards, and snakes. And I've never met anyone like you."
He raised his hand slowly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek.
"And because," he continued, voice almost tender, "when I'm with you, I don't have to wear a mask."
Her heart twisted.
She didn't want to believe him. She couldn't.
But when he looked at her like that—like she was something rare, something real—it became harder to remember who she was supposed to be.
Her voice cracked as she whispered, "I don't know if I'm worth your trust."
"You're worth it," he said. "Even if the rest of the world disagrees."
And then, gently, impossibly gently, he leaned forward.
His forehead rested against hers. No kiss. Just stillness. A touch more intimate than any embrace.
It wasn't passion. It was promise.
"Let me protect you," he whispered.
Her eyes fluttered shut. Just for a moment.
She let the warmth wash over her. The warmth she had long denied. The part of her that wasn't an assassin. The part that had once wished, long ago, for something more.
But even in that fragile moment, her instincts whispered a cruel truth:
To let someone protect you is to give them the power to destroy you.
To be continued.....