A few days had passed since the poisoning incident, but the palace hadn't exhaled since. The gates were shut tighter than a miser's coin purse, and I wasn't allowed to go anywhere unaccompanied—not even to the garden. Soldier training had been suspended, which meant no new patients at the infirmary. The once lively corridors were now cloaked in silence, the kind of silence that whispered secrets and suspicion behind every carved screen.
Lan Wangji, being the immortal-grade overachiever he was, recovered alarmingly fast—his cultivation working overtime like some divine health insurance plan. If only palace morale could heal just as quickly. But no—Lan Xichen and Wei Wuxian were knee-deep in interrogations, dragging everyone from nobles to kitchen boys into questioning rooms, determined to root out the traitor behind the poisoned wine.
Tension crackled in the air. Whispers floated through the halls like ghosts. Eyes darted. Servants walked on eggshells. It was all very dramatic. And not in the fun "ooh, plot twist" way—more like the "I think I might actually develop an ulcer" way.
So, in a moment of desperate optimism (and sheer boredom), I decided to take matters into my own hands.
I found Madam Hui in the kitchen, surrounded by bustling servants and steam rising from bubbling pots. She looked as regal as ever, even while critiquing dumpling folds like lives depended on it.
"Madam Hui," I began, as politely as I could muster, "may I speak with you for a moment?"
She turned to face me, her brow slightly raised. "Miss Mei Lin, if you require anything, you may request it through the staff. There's no need for you to come here personally."
"I know," I said, wringing my hands slightly. "But I have a special request… I'd like to use the kitchen."
She stared at me like I'd asked for the royal seal. "The kitchen is not open for guests. What exactly are you planning to do?"
"I want to bake a cake," I said.
"A… cake?"
"It's a kind of dessert from my—country," I corrected quickly, catching myself. "It's sweet, comforting, and I think it might help lift everyone's spirits. Just something to lighten the mood."
Madam Hui blinked slowly. "You wish to cheer up the palace with dessert..."
"Yes," I said, leaning in as if confessing a state secret. "I know it sounds silly. But I think a little sweetness might go a long way right now."
She studied me with her usual razor-sharp gaze, and I held my breath. Finally, she exhaled, long and deliberate.
"Very well," she said. "You may use the kitchen. But you will be supervised at all times. I will not tolerate any incidents, especially under current circumstances."
"Of course, Madam Hui. Thank you so much. I swear I won't blow anything up."
She raised an eyebrow at that, and I decided that was my cue to shut up and get baking.
In the kitchen, I met the head cook, Lady Zhao. She was a sturdy woman with a warm smile and an air of authority. Intrigued by my unusual request, she watched eagerly as I began to gather ingredients.
"Miss Mei Lin, what exactly is a cake?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"It's a sweet dessert, soft and fluffy," I explained. "It's quite popular where I come from."
With Lady Zhao's help, I gathered flour, eggs, sugar, and milk. As I moved around the kitchen, searching for the necessary ingredients, I paused, frowning. "Do we have any butter?"
Lady Zhao looked puzzled. "Butter? What is that?"
That's what I was afraid of.
I set aside a large clay bowl of milk in a quiet corner of the kitchen. Lady Zhao followed me, brows raised. "Miss Mei Lin, what are you doing? That's perfectly good milk."
"I need the cream to rise," I explained, peering into the bowl as if expecting magic. "Just let it sit overnight, over here it is cold enough, and tomorrow we'll skim off the top layer."
Lady Zhao blinked. "A cream??"
"Sort of," I said, smiling. "Actually, I'm going to make butter."
She folded her arms, clearly intrigued. "Butter, by letting milk sit?"
"I know it sounds strange," I said. "But I learned this during the pandemic. I was stuck inside and watched a ridiculous number of YouTube videos on how to survive with just pantry staples. Never thought I'd actually use that knowledge... until now."
Her eyes widened in confusion. I smiled sheepishly. It was too much to explain.
"Just let it sit here, I will continue tomorrow."
She gave me a doubtful look but nodded. "I will humor you, Miss Mei Lin. Let's see if your strange method actually works."
The next day, we skimmed off the thick layer of cream from the settled milk and poured it into a clean ceramic jar. I secured the lid, rolled up my sleeves, and began shaking like my life depended on it. Lady Zhao and a couple of curious servant girls gathered to watch.
"You sure it's going to work?" one whispered.
"I'm not sure of anything in this world," I said between breaths, "but I have faith in science... and desperate pandemic hobbies."
Finally, after what felt like forever, the sloshing sound changed. I opened the jar and grinned. Inside, nestled in the remaining buttermilk, were soft, clumps of butter.
Just then, as I moved around the kitchen, I accidentally bumped into one of the servant girls. She dropped a jar of some powder, and it shattered on the floor.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, bending down to help her.
The servant girl quickly stepped on a small packet that had fallen out and swiftly kowtowed, her face pale with fear. Her actions were so quick and precise that it left me feeling uneasy. What was in that packet?
"Please forgive me, Miss Mei Lin. It was an accident. Please punish me if necessary," she said, her voice trembling.
Lady Zhao hurried over, her face a mask of irritation. "What happened here?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene.
"I-I dropped the jar, Lady Zhao," the servant girl stammered, still kowtowing.
Lady Zhao's gaze softened slightly, but her voice remained stern. "Be more careful next time. Now, clean this up and get out of the kitchen."
The servant girl hurried to comply, gathering the broken pieces with trembling hands before scurrying out. I watched her go, feeling a pang of sympathy and curiosity. She seemed so frightened, but I swear I saw the little packet, which was now gone, when she got up.
I turned back to Lady Zhao, who was watching me closely. "Miss Mei Lin, let's continue. You still need to prepare this cake."
"Yes, of course," I replied, trying to shake off the unease.
We resumed our task, and I explained the process of mixing the ingredients and preparing the batter. Without modern baking tools, we had to improvise. We used a large ceramic bowl to mix the batter and a clay oven to bake the cake. Lady Zhao was fascinated by every step, from beating the eggs to folding in the flour and melting the freshly made butter.
As I worked, my thoughts drifted to my mother and sister. Baking cakes was one of the few traditions we had kept alive through the years. My mother's recipes were the best; she had a way of making everything taste like home. I could almost hear her voice guiding me through each step, felt my sister's laughter as we created more messes than we baked.
I swallowed a lump in my throat, homesickness washing over me in a wave. If only I had some chocolate, I thought wistfully. My mother's chocolate cake had been a staple of every celebration—rich, soft, and comforting in ways nothing else could be. It would've been perfect to share that little piece of home here in this strange palace. But chocolate didn't seem to exist in this world. No bars, no powder, not even a whisper of cocoa. Just another small loss added to the growing pile. Another reminder that I was a very long way from home.
As the cake baked, the kitchen slowly filled with a warm, sweet aroma. It was the kind of smell that wrapped around you like a hug—familiar and comforting, yet entirely new to the palace. Servants passing by slowed down, heads poking through the doorway, eyes wide with curiosity.
"What is that delightful smell?" one asked, her voice almost reverent.
"It's something new we're trying," I replied, smiling as I carefully checked the oven. "Would you like to try a piece once it's ready?"
When the cake was finally done, golden and tender, I cut it into small pieces and handed them out. One bite, and the expressions on their faces transformed—surprise, joy, something like nostalgia even though they'd never tasted it before.
"This is amazing!" a young eunuch blurted out, his mouth still full. "What do you call this?"
"Cake," I said simply, watching the delight ripple across the room like a drop in water.
Encouraged by their reaction, I arranged the remaining slices neatly on a tray. With a careful breath, I made my way toward Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. The palace corridors were still heavy with suspicion and unrest, but as I passed, the sweet scent followed me, turning heads and briefly lifting spirits like the whisper of something good on its way.
I found Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, and Lan Xichen seated around a low table in one of the quieter study rooms, maps and documents spread before them like a battlefield waiting to be dissected. The air was thick with tension, but when Wei Wuxian looked up and saw me, a smile broke through his otherwise serious expression.
"Mei Lin!" he greeted, his voice a little too bright for the room. "Are you here to rescue us from palace politics?"
I lifted the tray and gave a modest grin. "Only if you accept bribes. I came bearing a cake."
His eyes lit up as I set the tray down. "You made this?"
"It's called cake where I come from. It's sweet, soft, and meant to be shared. I thought… maybe it could bring a little peace in the middle of all this."
Lan Wangji offered a quiet nod of thanks, his gaze lingering on me a beat longer than usual.
Wei Wuxian was already reaching for a piece. He took one bite and practically melted. "By the heavens… this is amazing! Lan Zhan, taste this."
Lan Xichen, more reserved, accepted a piece with a polite murmur and took a slow bite. His brow lifted ever so slightly in surprise. "You have a remarkable touch, Miss Mei Lin."
I smiled, a warm flutter rising in my chest. "Thank you. I'm glad you like it."
But the momentary sweetness didn't last. I glanced between them, catching the tightness in their expressions, the exhaustion in their posture. "How's the investigation going?"
Wei Wuxian's smile faltered. He set down his half-eaten cake, fingers threading together. "Messy," he said simply. "The palace is still in chaos. Everyone's pointing fingers."
Lan Xichen nodded gravely. "Some of the accusations are turning toward Wei Ying himself."
I blinked, stunned. "What? But why? That makes no sense."
Wei Wuxian gave a half-laugh, but it held no humor. "To some, it makes all the sense in the world. I don't fit their mold of what a prince should be. I walk my own path. I broke the rules they cling to."
Lan Xichen spoke gently, but his words were heavy. "There are whispers that Wei Ying seeks to unsettle the court. That his connection to Wangji—combined with their cultivation—is a threat."
Lan Wangji's jaw tensed slightly, but he said nothing. The flicker of protectiveness in his eyes said more than words ever could.
Wei Wuxian looked at me, eyes dimmer than I'd ever seen them. "They think power equals ambition. That I must be plotting just because I could. But this... this palace, these people—they're my family. I would never harm them."
Lan Xichen added, "There are old grudges and fears that have resurfaced. The poisoning incident has given those who oppose Wei Ying the perfect opportunity to undermine him."
I had always been curious about Wei Wuxian's background. In my world, he came from a sect—no royal lineage, no throne, no courtly politics. But here, he was a prince. A completely different identity. I'd been holding back my questions, but curiosity had this annoying habit of eating away at me.
Eventually, I gave in.
"Wei Ying," I asked, aiming for casual but probably sounding more nosy than I meant to, "I don't really know much about your family here. Are the King and Queen… your parents?"
He paused, his playful demeanor softening. "The current queen isn't my mother," he said, voice even. "My mother was Queen Wei Qing He. She passed away many years ago. The current queen, Queen Li Hua, used to be one of the king's consorts. After my mother died, she was elevated and crowned."
That alone made my head spin. So many pieces didn't match the world I knew.
Lan Xichen spoke up then, his tone gentle. "Queen Wei Qing He was deeply loved—by the people and by those close to her. Our families were bound by friendship and duty. We practically grew up together."
I looked at Wei Wuxian, trying to imagine him as a boy navigating this maze of grief and power. "That must've been... hard," I said honestly. "Losing your mother, and then having a new queen step in. Sounds like a royal headache."
Wei Wuxian chuckled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "It was. Queen Li Hua is… strategic. Her rise came with changes. She's always been focused on securing her place—and her son's future."
"Her son?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"My younger half-brother," he replied. "She's made it her mission to make him the crown prince. Which means I'm a problem she'd rather not deal with."
"Wow," I muttered. "This palace could be its own historical drama."
Lan Xichen offered a wry smile. "The politics are real. There are factions loyal to different heirs. This poisoning… it's not the first attempt. Just the boldest."
Lan Wangji's voice cut in, steady and clear. "Wei Ying has power—and independence. To many, that makes him dangerous. Especially to those with something to lose."
The weight of their words settled heavily between us. I hadn't expected this level of palace intrigue. It was dizzying.
Wei Wuxian looked over at me, his expression serious now. "And you being here… we still don't know if it's fate or design. But either way, Mei Lin, you need to be careful. This place isn't as peaceful as it seems."
Lan Wangji nodded in agreement, silent but resolute.
Just as the conversation seemed to quiet, Lan Wangji turned to me, his gaze steady. "Mei Lin," he said, "in the cave—when we fought the scorpion—there was light. It came from you."
Wei Wuxian blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, what? What light?"
Lan Wangji continued without missing a beat. "When the scorpion lunged, you raised your hands. There was a sudden burst—blinding and powerful. The creature shrieked and staggered. Then it vanished."
My pulse quickened just remembering it. "Yeah… it felt like panic took over. I thought I was going to die, and then—bam. This light shot out of me. There was a flash and this sound—like something exploded. But I didn't feel anything. Not heat, not pain… just fear."
Lan Xichen leaned forward, intrigued. "Light with that kind of force... that's not ordinary spiritual energy. That's ancient—possibly divine. We should look into the old cultivation texts. There might be something in the archives."
Wei Wuxian nodded, his expression serious once more. "Zewu-jun and I need to continue the investigation. Whoever orchestrated the poisoning is still out there, and they won't stop until they get what they want." Then he turned to Lan Wangji. "Lan Zhan, maybe you can accompany Mei Lin to the library tomorrow. See if there's anything that might explain the light she unleashed in the cave."
I blinked. I hadn't given that incident much thought lately, not with everything else happening. But now that he brought it up… it was strange. Terrifying, yes, but strange. I remembered the scorpion lunging, remembered the absolute certainty that I was going to die—and then, boom. Light exploded from me, but I hadn't felt pain. No burns. No recoil. Just… power.
Could it be some hidden ability? Did I have secret magical powers this whole time? Was this my long-awaited Marvel origin story?
No. Calm down, Mei Lin. You are not an Avenger.
Still, it was worth investigating.
As we parted for the night, I walked with purpose, but a gnawing unease settled in my chest. Something didn't feel right.
Just before turning the corner, I glanced back at the study room—and froze.
A shadow moved near the doorway. A figure, quick and silent, slipping away like smoke before I could catch more than a glimpse.
Someone had been listening.
And whoever they were… they now knew everything we had just said.