Lingcai had been coasting in the princess act, smooth as silk on still water, until one careless slip sent the carriage rolling.

Under Princess Sia’s pressure, heavy as a storm front, Lingcai had to tell everything, down to the last thread.

From her first clash with Kelor during the assassination attempt, to all the times she played a fake princess as Kelor’s stand-in. Every detail laid out like beads on a string.

Princess Sia held an iron chain, eyes narrowed like knife slits, fixing on Lingcai. “Is there more? Keep talking.”

Lingcai shook her head fast, hand raised like a flag, heart thudding like a drum: “That’s all! Really! Nothing hidden! I swear to the gods!”

Sia snorted, leaning back with one leg crossed, cool as frost. “Gods? What are gods—how many divisions do they have? What good’s your oath?”

“I’m asking who you are, where you’re from, what you’ve done.”

“Before you became Kelor’s stand-in, what did you do, and where.”

“If you can’t make it clear, you know the end.”

On “the end,” Sia gave the collar chain a little shake, cold metal whispering like a snake, and chill climbed Lingcai’s spine.

Out of moves, Lingcai let her mask fall. “I—I’m an Alchemist. My name’s Lingcai… I was just following orders! If there’s blame, lay it on Her Highness! I’ve wanted to quit this fake princess gig for ages!”

Plain truth, raw as salt on a wound.

Lingcai’s blame-shifting was also her heart’s cry, a small fox trying to dodge the lash. Just don’t let Kelor hear, or the bullying would start again.

Sia arched a brow. “You sure? You’re an Alchemist from Qiuerde, named Lingcai? Don’t lie. I’ll give you one last chance to revise.”

Lingcai raised her hand again, voice bright but trembling like a chime in wind. “Absolutely true! Not a single lie! I swear!”

Sia chuckled, and her face turned sharp as a hawk’s beak. “…All nonsense. Looks like you’re tired of living today.”

Despair washed through Lingcai like cold tide. Her heart went numb, icy and hollow.

I’m not, I didn’t—why won’t she believe me?

Sia reeled her closer with the chain, all smiles like a cat with string, then flicked Lingcai’s forehead. “Little girl, you really don’t know.”

“Lingcai, the Alchemist from Qiuerde, is a man. If you steal a name, at least get the sex right next time.”

Lingcai blinked, stunned that Princess Sia knew of her, startled like a sparrow. “You—you know me…?”

Her mind flipped back through her early years, searching for any tie to Princess Sia, like riffling dry leaves.

“I don’t know you,” Sia said, calm as still water. “But from that alone, I know you’re lying.”

But I told the truth… every grain of it.

Lingcai knew talk wouldn’t convince her. Without proof, you can’t even prove you’re yourself—harder than catching smoke.

She cleared her throat, voice crisp and childish like a bell, and repeated the worn-out explanation: “I really am Lingcai.”

“I look like this because an Alchemy accident changed me into a girl.”

Sia’s expression wrote four bold words across the air: Who are you fooling?

Seeing disbelief linger, Lingcai pushed on, words tumbling like pebbles down a slope. “It’s true! All of it!”

“You saw it just now. My body shrank in an instant. That was a temporary change from an Alchemy accident.”

“Two years ago, a similar accident turned me into a girl, and that change seems permanent…”

Only then did Sia’s face soften, half belief seeping in like dawn light. “You… are a master Alchemist? So young?”

She scanned Lingcai again, eyes weighing like scales, still not quite convinced.

Lingcai scratched her head, embarrassed like a cat caught stealing fish. “…Master might be too much.”

“But I think my Alchemy’s pretty good…”

Sia was brisk. She put down the chain and reached behind her. “Fine. I’ll trust you once.”

“From an Alchemist’s angle, tell me what this bottle’s for.”

She pulled out a metal vessel, long and spindle-shaped, arm-thick and half a meter long. Its patterns were blurred and scuffed, like deliberate aging.

The base was a half-sphere, so it couldn’t stand steady on the ground, wobbling like a bobble.

Sia knew its use. She wanted to test and needle Lingcai, to see if the claim was smoke or steel.

Lingcai only glanced from a distance, and failed to hold her face. A laugh popped out, bright as a spark. “Pfft.”

“What are you laughing at?” Sia’s brow darkened, lines drawing like storm clouds.

Lingcai didn’t know what look to wear, so she mixed helplessness with humor, and spoke. “Big Sis, that thing isn’t a bottle for holding anything.”

“It’s a gun tube. A part of a light cannon one soldier can carry, for direct fire or lobbing.”

“It’s for smashing fortifications and dealing with armored knights.”

Sia blinked, surprised that a glance cracked her trap. Lingcai nailed the purpose like an arrow to the mark.

Trust for Lingcai ticked up another notch in Sia’s mind, steady as rising mercury.

Though “Big Sis” still pricked the ear like a thorn.

Sia kept her face smooth. “How’d you tell? Didn’t just guess, did you?”

Lingcai dusted her hands, cleared her throat, and began her show. In this field, an Alchemist’s tongue is a whetstone.

She spoke at ease, knowledge spilling like a river. “It’s obvious at a glance.”

“See the grooves inside? Rifling, one by one.”

“This cannon takes two types: a 40mm fragmentation direct-fire round and a fin‑stabilized lobbing round.”

“The frag direct round has low recoil. Its kill zone fans out.”

“You can shoulder it and fire at enemies within thirty meters.”

“The fin‑stabilized round packs more propellant. Recoil’s heavy. Range is long.”

“So you have to plant it, use other parts to buffer, and arc shots over to hammer fixed positions.”

By now, Sia had to admit the little girl truly was an Alchemist of high caliber.

“Good. I believe you’re a remarkable Alchemist.”

“I happen to need someone with a mind like yours for a job.”

Sia didn’t waste breath. From a silk pouch at her waist, she drew a bright gold ingot and slapped it on the table.

The sight of gold froze Lingcai’s gaze like a moth to flame. She’d only seen grimy fragments before, traded a hundred hands.

This new ingot gleamed like sunrise. Her eyes couldn’t leave it, as if stars of gold lit her pupils.

No wonder she was a princess—her wealth flowed like a river, lavish and sure.

Alchemists started with smelting, hammer and fire. Later came physics, chemistry, gears, and springs.

But gold still gleams in every Alchemist’s dreams, like a sun behind the eyelids.

Lingcai spread both hands over the ingot, palms hovering like a worshiper over incense. Golden stars overflowed in her eyes.

“Tell me the favor. As long as it’s not something dirty, I’m in!”

“And if it is something dirty?” Sia shot back, voice smooth as silk with a blade under it.

Lingcai froze. The gold-star light blinked out. She drew her hands back, clenched a fist before her chest.

“…In that case…”

Sia pressed, tone like a fingertip on a scale. “In that case?”

Lingcai swallowed, dropped her gaze, and whispered, soft as falling ash. “…You’ll have to pay extra.”