No way I’m just agreeing to this, she thought, spine prickling like a hedgehog in dry grass.

Lingcai didn’t want to spend one more day in this cursed place; her heart fluttered like a trapped sparrow. Better to seize the moment, slip from the palace like moonlight through lattice, and vanish. Once she cleared the city gate, she’d be a fish back in water, a needle dropped into the sea—no net, no hook, no diver would find her.

But the palace guards were layered like scales, inside and out, tight as winter ice. Every entry and exit needed strict papers, stamped like frost on leaves. Worse, ever since she started posing as the fake princess, Xueyu stuck to her heel like a shadow stitched to silk.

“You really think I can’t bolt?” Lingcai muttered, voice low as wind under a door.

“What did you just say?” Xueyu shot her a glare, sharp as a hawk’s eye.

“I said, even if I wanted to run, this place won’t let me. A palace is still a palace, different from where common folk roost. Being a princess here is exhausting.” Lingcai flipped her face like a fan and answered with a sunny grin.

Xueyu slanted her gaze, reading the little abacus clicking in Lingcai’s head like rain beads. “What, still dreaming of running?”

“Don’t dare, don’t dare. I’m contributing to the nation,” Lingcai said, shaking her head like a reed in wind.

Xueyu snorted through her nose, short as a drumbeat. “Alright. If you feel like running, give me a heads-up.”

“Huh… wait, if I did want to run, would you help me?” Lingcai’s eyes lit like lanterns at dusk.

“No. I just want it easier to catch you back,” Xueyu said, cool as pond water.

“Tch, then why would I tell you…” Lingcai ground her teeth, a little wolf chewing a bone.

They had just wrapped the morning court, walking the sunlit road back to the Princess Manor, footsteps steady as temple bells.

“Hey, I’ve got a question.” Xueyu nudged Lingcai, secretive as a cat in twilight. “Last night, Her Highness called you to the study. For what?”

“Nothing much. Told me to investigate a few things…” Lingcai rolled her eyes like marbles and pushed open the manor door.

Inside, it was the same familiar scene—especially Kelor’s fountain-pen display case set dead center, gleaming like ice. She’d polished it that morning till it was spotless and bright as starlight. No one else was allowed to touch those little treasures; only she could lay a finger on them.

“What things to investigate?” Xueyu pressed, voice tapping like rain.

“It’s… uh…” Lingcai’s words hung like a kite on a snag, her voice stretched thin, refusing to move on.

“Spit it out.” Xueyu poked her again, finger sharp as a twig.

Lingcai perked up, hands clasped behind her back, energy rising like steam. “Hey? Mind your tone. You’re nosing into state business, guessing at your master’s will. What crime should that be?”

She did have a dash of the Princess’s cadence, the posture like a crane—but only a dash.

“Alright, alright, quit clowning.” Xueyu laughed despite herself at the botched imitation, then pointed at a chair. “You’re a clown strutting in a king’s robe. Sit.”

“Oh—okay.” Lingcai dipped her head and flopped obediently into the chair like a folded fan. Then something felt off. She sprang up like a startled sparrow. “Hold on. I’m the princess right now. Why do I sit just because you said so?”

“Getting bold, aren’t we…” Xueyu waved her off, casual as drifting clouds.

Lingcai didn’t know where the nerve came from; she squared up, voice ringing like a gong. “Bold today, yeah. I’m the princess. You—sit.”

“A chair’s a chair. What’s the difference where I sit…”

“I’m the princess. I decide. I say sit here, you sit here. If I’m in a mood and say stand, you stand.”

“Oh come on, don’t be so dramatic…”

“Stand.” Lingcai’s face fell like dusk, and her palm slapped the table—bang—like thunder under a roof.

These past ten days, she’d learned none of the Princess’s good graces, but she’d mastered the one-two-three of bluff, bark, and table-slam till it burned like a forge.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stand… look at you, small-fry reveling,” Xueyu said, standing up, finger wagging in disdain like a willow switch.

“You said you’d catch me if I ran. Now the mountain won’t turn, but the river does,” Lingcai crowed, settling a tiny score, sweet as biting into candied haw. For once, she understood why Kelor always strutted that way.

“Happy now? Satisfied, my Lady Cai-cai?” Xueyu’s tone softened like warm tea, but her face stayed flat as a board. “Now tell me—what did Her Highness say last night?”

Lingcai dropped the fuss and lowered her voice, slow as falling snow. “The Princess said she wants to review the official selection exams from the past three years, and the lists of personnel in charge of recruitment across regions. But it has to be done in secret, unseen.”

“What’s there to sneak about?” Xueyu said, not seeing the storm in those clouds.

“That’s why I told you—don’t presume to guess the will of the throne,” Lingcai concluded, voice mild as smoke. But then her clever mind turned like a waterwheel, and a neat idea began ripening like fruit.

“Ahem.” She straightened her bowtie, fingers light as moth wings, eyes sweeping the room like a silent tide. Her heart hammered, a drum in her throat, ready to leap. This plan, success or failure, gave her only one shot.

“Honestly, the details… I didn’t quite get them. But do you want to see what she’s up to?”

“What do you mean?” Xueyu smelled the whiff of scheming like spice in steam, but curiosity tugged her forward like a fishing line.

Seeing the hook set, Lingcai put on a thoughtful look, as if fishing memories from a dim pond. “Didn’t we visit the dungeon yesterday? When the Princess was lying there, I think the wall had writing. Looked like place names…? Maybe she went to one of those places?”

Xueyu fell for it, hand slamming the table like a sparrow hitting glass. “Such an important thing, and you didn’t say earlier!”

“You didn’t ask. I figured you saw it,” Lingcai said, shrugging, hands tucked in like a kitten, sliding back into the chair.

Xueyu paced the room, steps quickening like rain. The more she paced, the more urgency burned, hot as chili. Finally, she set her jaw. “No, I have to check.”

Halfway to the door, she paused, suspicion flicking like a knife. “Wait. You’re not just making an excuse to get me out, are you?”

Thud.

Bull’s-eye.

Lingcai kept her face smooth as porcelain. “Why would I? I’m hoping you’ll take me out to look around. Staying here makes people dull as stale rice.”

“In your dreams. Sit and keep dreaming.” Xueyu tossed the jab and bolted toward the dungeon, swift as a hawk.

Lingcai stayed curled up, still as a pond, watching Xueyu vanish like mist beyond the threshold. The instant Xueyu crossed the sill and slipped from sight, Lingcai whipped off the crown from her golden hair, fingers flying like swallows as she unfastened her gown’s hooks and ties.

“You really think I can’t run? Who are you underestimating? I’ll show you the world’s number one Alchemist… hmm? Is my underwear snagged…? Hey? A wire! The wire’s biting into my skin! Ow, ow, ow, ow…!”