The rumors spread faster than I could breathe.
By the time Xiaohua and I made it back to my room, the palace was already infected. Every corridor echoed with whispers growing louder with each step.
"She slipped on her own tea," one version claimed.
"No," another hissed, "Consort Li threw the entire pitcher at her head."
"I heard she moved the water without touching it," someone whispered. "Just—whoosh! Right into Lady Wang's face."
By the time we reached the courtyard gate, I think someone had added that I summoned a tidal wave and surfed it across the garden like an angry immortal on vacation.
We slammed the door shut, both of us breathless.
I turned in a slow circle, scanning my room like it had turned into a prison cell.
"Okay. Okay, don't panic," I muttered, already spiraling. "This is fine. Totally fine. I mean—sure, I may have accidentally revealed divine water powers at a royal arts-and-crafts meetup, but… maybe they'll think it was just a gust of wind?"
Xiaohua stared at me. Hopeful. Desperate.
She didn't believe it either.
I paced, already planning my exile.
"Maybe Yufei is too embarrassed to say anything. Maybe she'll claim she tripped into the pond. Or maybe she'll blame me for tripping her into the pond. Reverse psychology. That's a strategy, right?"
Xiaohua's voice came small and tight. "Miss Mei Lin… we're probably in trouble."
"'Probably'?" I barked a laugh. "This isn't probably. This is scroll-summoning, elder-council, you-might-be-a-goddess-or-a-threat-to-the-kingdom kind of trouble."
She darted a glance at the door. "Should I go find Prince Wei?"
"Yes. Immediately. He'll know what to do. Or he'll panic and break something, and then know what to do. Either way, go."
She cracked open the door—then gasped and slammed it shut.
"Too late."
There was a rustle of silk and doom outside.
A eunuch's voice rang out—perfectly polite, perfectly final.
"Royal Consort Li Mei Lin. You are summoned by royal decree to the Hall of Tranquil Grace. Immediately."
My stomach dropped. My spine locked up. I am so in trouble.
I turned to Xiaohua, who looked like she might faint on the spot. "Go," I whispered. "Find Prince Wei. Tell him what happened—everything."
She nodded, eyes wide with fear, and slipped out the side door just as the footsteps neared.
***
I didn't remember the walk there, just the blur of corridors, the way the guards flanked me like I was contagious, and the hum of whispers pressing against my back like a storm building behind closed doors.
Then the doors shut behind me with a thud that echoed in my chest.
The Hall of Tranquil Grace was anything but tranquil.
My slippers made no sound on the polished floor, but the silence was deafening—ceremonial, suffocating, and sharp enough to draw blood.
Queen Li Hua sat at the head of the hall, serene in white silk embroidered with gold lotuses. Her crown gleamed beneath the lanterns. Her smile was soft.
Her eyes were razor blades.
Three noble ladies stood to her right—witnesses from the flower class. One clutched her silk handkerchief like she'd watched someone drown. Another wouldn't look at me. The third stared openly, like she expected me to levitate.
I bowed, low and slow.
No eye-rolling. No sarcasm. Definitely don't say "hi, Auntie."
Queen Li Hua skipped the pleasantries.
"Consort Li," she said, her voice smooth and unshakable, "you stand accused of harming a member of the royal court in public."
I knew it.
"Lady Wangi has sustained injuries due to your actions. She is receiving care in the infirmary for trauma, bruising," she said, pausing for effect, "and scalding."
Scalding? That tea was lukewarm at best. And I didn't even hit her!
"The event had witnesses. According to inner court law, violence against a noble lady—especially during a sacred cultural gathering—is punishable by imprisonment, pending trial."
I stood there, stunned. "Imprisonment?" I echoed, like I hadn't heard her correctly.
She wasn't bluffing. Queen Li Hua tilted her head, gracious as a guillotine.
"Effective immediately."
I blinked.
One minute I was arranging chrysanthemums. The next, I was the villain in a court drama.
"I didn't mean—there was no intent to harm," I said, breath short. "I was just trying to protect my maid."
Her eyes narrowed. "And yet, Lady Wang lies wounded. The court will judge your intent."
I looked around. No help. Just cold eyes and judgmental embroidery.
Queen Li Hua lifted her hand.
The guards moved.
And that's when I knew—I wasn't walking out of this room.
The guards didn't speak as they grabbed me by the arms.
One moment I was standing in the Hall of Tranquil Grace, still reeling from what had just happened. The next, I was being pulled away from the silken serenity and perfumed air, my shoes scraping against polished floors as I struggled to keep my balance.
"Let go of me!" I snapped, but it was like shouting at stone. Their grips didn't loosen. If anything, they tightened.
The hallway blurred past—walls I'd walked a hundred times now flashing like scenery on a fast-moving carriage. Servants scattered out of our path. Some stared. Most didn't dare. I caught a glimpse of Xiaohua, wide-eyed and frantic, trying to follow, only to be stopped by a stern-faced eunuch.
Then we turned a corner and everything changed.
The soft glow of lanterns gave way to dim corridors, colder and narrow. The scent of jasmine vanished, replaced by damp stone and the faint metallic bite of old blood. My heart pounded harder with every step.
The Inner Court prison wasn't far from the palace, but it felt like another world entirely.
They shoved open a heavy wooden door reinforced with black iron. It groaned on its hinges like it resented being disturbed. Inside, shadows clung to the walls. The temperature dropped as if the air itself disapproved of my presence.
The cells were carved from ancient stone, moss threading between cracks. Iron bars rusted at the base, stained with time and things I didn't want to imagine.
The guard shoved me inside without ceremony. I stumbled, caught myself against the wall, and turned just in time to see the door slam shut. The clank of the lock echoed like a final verdict.
I pressed my back to the stone and slid down slowly, breath catching in my throat. My hands were shaking. My heart wouldn't slow.
So this is what disgrace feels like.
I didn't sit.
Sitting would mean surrender. Sitting would mean I belonged here.
Then—footsteps. Fast. Urgent. Too many for one person.
A voice shouted behind them, trying to stop the rush.
Too late.
Ming Yu reached the cell first, his robes slightly disheveled, his expression carved from panic and fury. He stormed through the prison like it was personal—like the stone itself had dared to touch me. His boots hit the floor hard, and his eyes scanned the room in a flash before locking on mine.
"Mei Lin," he breathed.
I didn't have time to answer before he was at the bars, gripping them like he could will them to break apart just to reach me.
Behind him, Wei Wuxian followed, equally breathless but already shifting into strategy mode. His eyes darted from guard to cell, to me, to Ming Yu.
"Are you hurt?" Ming Yu demanded, voice low but shaking.
I opened my mouth—wanted to be clever, calm, strong. But nothing came out. My throat closed and my breath hitched.
The tears came instead—uninvited, silent, fast.
Ming Yu's hands tightened on the bars, as if he could feel the sting of them himself. His eyes searched me from head to toe, not missing a thing. Not the bruises that weren't there. Not the trembling that was.
"I'm okay," I whispered, the lie sitting heavy in my mouth.
Wei Wuxian came up beside him, his voice sharp with disbelief. "You shouldn't be in here. This is madness."
"She slapped Xiaohua," I said, my voice trembling. "She was going to pour tea on her—and I just... I don't know. I reacted."
"I know," Ming Yu said softly. "We heard."
Wei Wuxian let out a sharp breath. "I tried to get to Yufei. I went straight to her quarters. But the Wang family already moved her. Locked her up in their estate. Won't let anyone in—not even me."
"They're hiding her," Ming Yu muttered, jaw clenched.
Wei Wuxian nodded grimly. "Because they know. They know she's not injured. But they just need time to spin it into something that makes you the villain."
I tried to steady my breath, gripping the cell bars to keep from sinking to the floor.
"The trial's in two days," I said.
Ming Yu looked at me like he wanted to break the timeline itself.
Wei Wuxian's gaze softened, just a little. "We'll fix this," he said.
And I believed him.
Because for all his chaos, he had yet to fail me.
He turned to speak with the guards, already throwing court language like daggers.
But Ming Yu stayed by the bars. His eyes were quiet. Still.
"Ming Yu…" I started.
He reached for the bars. His fingers closed around the iron like it might be my hand.
"I'll find proof." he said softly, voice low enough that only I could hear. " I swear, Mei Lin—I'll save you."
Something in his voice—so steady, so absolute—made my chest ache.
"I'm okay," I said again, weaker now.
He didn't believe me, but he didn't argue. A voice behind him called time, but he didn't move. Then, slowly, he stepped back—just once—and it felt like something broke.
He gave me one last look, then turned and left. The door slammed shut, and I was alone again.