The Awakening
The palace was bathed in the soft light of dawn, the frost sparkling like jewels on the rooftops. Princess Lian sat at her vanity, staring at her reflection. Her encounter with Linghu lingered in her mind, vivid and consuming.
The fox's silver eyes had followed her into her dreams, its voice resonating like an unshakable echo:
"Return to me when you are ready to choose."
She touched the pendant at her throat, a simple jade stone gifted by her late mother. It was said to ward off evil spirits, yet the memory of Linghu didn't feel sinister—it felt like a call.
"Your Highness," Meilin called softly from the door. "The king requests your presence at breakfast."
Lian sighed, standing reluctantly. It was yet another reminder of the cage she had not yet escaped.
---
The Court's Whispered Games
In the grand dining hall, the royal family gathered for their morning meal. King Yuan, her father, sat at the head of the table, his stern expression betraying the weight of his responsibilities. Beside him was her elder brother, Crown Prince Jian, who was engrossed in a scroll detailing the kingdom's affairs.
"Lian," her father began, his voice cutting through the clinking of porcelain. "The envoy from Zhaoling will arrive tomorrow. You are to greet them as the future bride of their prince."
Lian's spoon froze midway to her lips. "Father, I—"
"It is decided," he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Jian glanced at her, his expression unreadable. The court was watching; every servant and noble present knew this moment would be dissected in whispers later.
"Yes, Father," she murmured, lowering her gaze. But beneath her calm exterior, rebellion churned.
---
Linghu's Human Form
That night, unable to sleep, Lian slipped out of the palace once more. This time, the forest felt different—not as foreboding, but still heavy with unspoken secrets.
She ventured deeper than before, her lantern casting long shadows. Then she saw it: the fox. Linghu stepped into the clearing, its white fur glowing softly in the moonlight.
"You've returned," it said, tilting its head.
Lian hesitated. "I need more answers. I can't make a choice without knowing… what it will cost."
Linghu regarded her for a long moment before speaking. "Very well. If you wish to understand, I shall show you more of myself."
Before her eyes, the fox began to change. Its form elongated, shifting and shimmering as if made of light. When the transformation was complete, a man stood before her, his silver hair falling to his shoulders and his eyes retaining their otherworldly glow. He was draped in robes of white and silver, regal yet otherworldly.
Lian took a step back, her breath catching. "You… you can take human form?"
"Among many others," Linghu replied, his voice smoother but no less commanding. "It is easier to speak to mortals this way. Does this form comfort you more, Princess?"
She studied him, her heart racing. There was an undeniable elegance to his features, a beauty that felt almost dangerous. "Why do you help humans? Why grant wishes at all?"
Linghu's expression shifted, a flicker of something—pain, perhaps?—crossing his face. "That is a tale for another time. For now, you must decide: do you truly seek freedom? And if so, at what cost?"
---
The Vision of Cost
Linghu extended a hand toward her, his silver eyes locking onto hers. "Allow me to show you what you desire and what it will demand of you."
Before she could respond, a rush of wind enveloped her, and the world blurred.
When the wind ceased, she found herself in the midst of a village. It was bustling with life, the air filled with laughter and the smell of cooking fires. She looked down to find her royal attire replaced with simple garments.
A child ran past her, nearly knocking her over. "Sorry, miss!" he called, grinning.
At first, Lian felt a thrill of excitement. No one bowed to her, no one watched her every move. She was free, just another face in the crowd.
But as the day wore on, the novelty faded. She saw the villagers' struggles—their hunger, their exhaustion, their endless toil. She saw a woman weeping over a sick child, unable to afford a healer. And she realized that freedom came with its own chains.
The vision shifted again. She was back in the palace, but it was in ruins. Her father lay lifeless on the throne, and Jian stood over him, a sword in hand. "You abandoned us, Lian," he spat, his voice dripping with anger. "And this is what your freedom has cost."
"No!" she cried, reaching out, but the vision dissolved.
She was back in the forest, Linghu standing before her.
"This is only one possibility," he said quietly. "Every choice ripples outward, creating consequences beyond your control."
Lian sank to her knees, her hands trembling. "Why show me this? To scare me?"
"To prepare you," Linghu replied, his tone softening. "You seek freedom, but freedom is not without sacrifice. You must decide what you are willing to lose."
---
The Seeds of Trust and Doubt
Lian returned to the palace at dawn, her mind a storm of emotions. She couldn't erase the images Linghu had shown her, nor could she forget the strange comfort of his human form.
Over the following days, she found herself drawn back to the forest, seeking his counsel. Each time, Linghu appeared, sometimes as a fox, other times as a man.
"Why do you care so much about my choice?" she asked him one evening, frustration edging her voice.
Linghu's silver eyes darkened, a shadow of emotion passing through them. "Because your choice will determine more than you realize. Mortals and spirits are more intertwined than you know."
"What do you mean?"
He hesitated, then turned away. "That is not for you to know yet."
---
A Growing Danger
Back in the palace, tensions simmered. Lian's absences did not go unnoticed. Jian confronted her one evening, his tone sharp.
"Where do you go at night, Lian?" he demanded. "You think I don't see the mud on your shoes, the frost in your hair?"
"I walk the gardens," she lied, her voice steady.
"Don't lie to me," he snapped. "Whatever you're doing, stop it. The envoy arrives tomorrow, and you cannot afford another scandal."
But it wasn't just Jian who had noticed. In the shadows of the court, a rival noble, Minister Wei, had begun to suspect something unusual about the princess. He ordered spies to follow her, their reports fueling his schemes.
"The princess is hiding something," Wei murmured to himself, a sly smile playing on his lips. "And I will use it to my advantage."
---
Linghu's Warning
On her next visit to the forest, Linghu greeted her with a grim expression.
"You are being watched," he said without preamble.
Lian's heart sank. "How do you know?"
"I see more than mortals," he replied. "Your enemies grow bolder. If you continue down this path, you must be prepared for what it will bring."
"Then what should I do?" she asked, desperation creeping into her voice.
Linghu stepped closer, his human form towering over her. "Trust no one, Princess. Not even me."
His words left her shaken, and as she returned to the palace that night, she couldn't help but wonder: who was Linghu, truly? And what role did he play in the tangled web of her fate?