The days passed in a heavy fog of unease, each hour feeling slower than the last. The atmosphere in the palace had grown tense since the mysterious incident with the water dragon in the garden. Servants whispered of strange occurrences—objects moving on their own, shadows flickering where no light should cast them, and cold drafts in the warm summer air.
Amidst this mounting sense of unease, a new figure arrived at the palace: Chen Liang (陈亮), a young man of humble birth but remarkable skill, summoned by General Wei Jian himself to serve as his attendant. With dark, perceptive eyes, and a calm, steady demeanor, Chen Liang quickly garnered attention. His robes were simple, made from rough, practical cloth in muted shades of grey and brown, but they were clean and well-maintained. His long black hair was neatly tied back in a low ponytail, a single silver hairpin the only adornment.
Chen Liang moved with quiet efficiency, observing everything around him with an analytical gaze. He was here to serve, but his eyes missed nothing, taking in the uneasy faces, the whispered conversations, and the tension that lingered like a heavy fog.
As Chen Liang entered the general's quarters for the first time, he found General Wei Jian standing by the window, looking out over the palace gardens. His hands were clasped behind his back, his broad shoulders tense. Today, the general was dressed in a rich, dark green robe, embroidered with golden threads in the pattern of dragons that coiled around the hem and sleeves. His hair was tied back in a warrior's topknot, a silver clasp securing it in place, and a thin line of a beard framed his strong jaw.
"General," Chen Liang greeted with a deep bow. "I am Chen Liang, at your service."
Wei Jian turned, his face a mask of stern concentration. But there was a softness in his gaze as he studied the young man before him, something unspoken that passed between them. "Chen Liang," he said in a low, commanding voice, "I've heard much about your skills. Your presence here will be a welcome addition."
Chen Liang nodded. "I am honored to serve, General. I will do everything in my power to fulfill my duties."
Wei Jian motioned for him to rise. "There is much to be done, Chen Liang. These are… uncertain times. I need someone I can trust to assist me. Someone who sees clearly and understands the nuances that others might miss."
Chen Liang nodded again. "I will not disappoint you, General."
As Wei Jian began to explain his expectations, Chen Liang listened intently, his expression calm and focused. Yet, beneath his composed exterior, a thousand questions burned in his mind. What had he walked into? What was the source of the strange tensions that seemed to grip the palace like a vice?
Meanwhile, in another wing of the palace, Crown Imperial Prince Liang Fengxian(梁风贤) found himself in a state of increasing agitation. He was deeply disturbed by the reports of the water dragon that had nearly attacked Lady Qin Yue (秦月). No one had been able to explain where it had come from or how it had appeared and disappeared so suddenly. And also, about that disturbing dream he had. Fengxian, dressed in a deep blue robe with silver embroidery along the collar and cuffs, paced back and forth in his chambers. His long hair was tied back in a high, regal knot, adorned with a gold and sapphire pin that glinted in the morning light.
He could not shake the sense that something—or someone—was behind these strange occurrences. But who? And why? Was it the Order of the Jade Lotus?
He had spent hours in the library with Qin Yuan (秦元) over the past weeks, poring over ancient texts, trying to find clues or any mention of similar incidents. But the scrolls remained silent, offering no answers. Now, more than ever, he wished he could speak openly with someone he trusted.
He heard a soft knock at the door and turned to see Qin Yuan entering. The young scholar's face was pale, dark shadows under his eyes as if he had not slept well. His robes, a simple but elegant white and green with delicate patterns of clouds, flowed around him as he moved, his black hair loosely tied, with stray strands falling across his face.
"Your Highness," Qin Yuan said softly, "I think we need to speak. Something feels… wrong."
Fengxian gestured for him to sit. "I agree, but I can't put my finger on it. It's as if the palace itself is alive with whispers."
Qin Yuan nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I've been having dreams," he confessed quietly. "Dreams of water… of shadows moving just beyond sight. I feel like I'm being watched, even in my own chambers."
Fengxian felt a chill run through him. "I've had similar dreams," he admitted. "But dreams are one thing; this is becoming more real by the day."
Qin Yuan nodded, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the surface of the table. "Perhaps we should look beyond the palace for answers. There might be forces at play that we do not yet understand."
Fengxian agreed, a sense of determination settling over him. "Then we shall go to the forbidden temple," he said firmly. "There are secrets there that may hold the key to all of this."
Qin Yuan hesitated, sensing the gravity of the decision. "Are you sure, Your Highness? It is said to be a place of great power and danger…"
But Fengxian nodded, his expression resolute. "We have little choice, Yuan. The answers are not here, and we cannot allow these strange occurrences to continue without understanding them. We'll go at dawn."
As the day drew to a close, a cold wind began to sweep through the palace grounds, carrying with it a sense of unease that settled deep into the bones of all who felt it. Unbeknownst to Fengxian and Qin Yuan, far below the palace, in the hidden catacombs where few dared to tread, the Order of the Jade Lotus (玉莲会) was gathering in secret.
The chamber was dimly lit by a circle of flickering candles, their flames casting long shadows on the ancient stone walls. The air was thick with incense, the scent of sandalwood and lotus heavy and intoxicating. Figures in dark robes, their faces hidden beneath hooded cloaks, stood in a tight circle around a stone altar.
The leader of the group, an imposing figure with a silver mask obscuring his face, stepped forward. His voice was low, a deep rumble that seemed to echo off the walls. "It is time," he intoned. "The signs are clear. The prophecy is unfolding, and the balance of power is shifting."
Another figure stepped forward, a woman with a delicate silver dagger in her hand. "What do we do about the prince?" she asked in a hushed tone. "And the one who does not know his own power?"
The leader's eyes gleamed behind the mask. "We wait," he replied. "We watch. And when the time is right, we strike."
He raised his hand, and the candles flickered, their flames dancing as if moved by an unseen wind. "But first, we must ensure that the celestial one remains unaware of his true nature. His awakening could ruin everything."
The figures around the altar nodded in silent agreement, their faces hidden in the shadows. The leader's gaze shifted to a young acolyte standing at the edge of the circle. "Go," he commanded. "Report back to me everything you see and hear. We must be ready for whatever comes next."
The acolyte bowed deeply, disappearing into the darkness beyond the chamber's light. The leader watched him go, a sinister smile hidden behind his silver mask.
"Soon," he murmured to himself. "Soon, we shall see who truly holds the power in this realm."
Into the Night
As Fengxian lays in his bed, drifting off to sleep, he hears a faint whispering, a voice so soft it is almost imperceptible, coming from the shadows in his room. He sits up, straining to hear, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Who's there?" he demands, but the only response is a chilling, disembodied laugh that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
Fengxian's breath catches in his throat, and he reaches for his dagger, his eyes darting around the room. The shadows seem to stretch, lengthening and shifting, forming shapes that shouldn't be there.
And then, just as quickly as it started, the whispering stops. The room falls silent, but the tension lingers, heavy and suffocating.
A single candle flickers out, plunging the room into darkness.