Chapter 2 The Blade That Fell Twice🥀

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Rain soaked the earth like sorrow left too long in silence.

Each drop fell with the weight of judgment, tapping against the polished stone of the execution courtyard in an eerie rhythm. The sky hung low, thick with bruised clouds, casting the palace square in a palette of blue and black. Thunder rumbled softly, as if the heavens themselves held their breath.

Yue Lin opened her eyes to the sting of blood and rain.

Her arms were hoisted above her, wrists bound by coarse hemp rope that cut into skin already flayed raw. The rough wood post behind her was splintered and stained, the silent witness of too many forgotten deaths. Her bare knees were pressed to cold stone, but she would not kneel.

She wouldn't give them that.

The body she wore was not hers.

It was smaller. Softer. Weaker. But somehow still standing.

Crowds lined the courtyard, layered in silks and parasols, murmuring with the cruel hunger of the bored and privileged. Some brought umbrellas. Others simply watched as if this were a spectacle-a theater of shame beneath the palace's looming archways.

> Why am I here?

The last thing she remembered was a rooftop above the Shanghai skyline-bright lights, glass towers, wind sharp as razors. A target. A betrayal. Blood.

Her blood.

A blade through her gut from someone she once called brother. And then-darkness.

> I died.

And now...

She was here. In the center of what looked like a feudal-era execution courtyard. Her assassin's senses slowly stirred through the fog of pain and confusion.

This was not a dream.

---

"Mo Ran, first daughter of the Mo clan," an old priest was reading aloud from a scroll with a voice like gravel, "found guilty of dishonoring her family, attempting to seduce and poison the Duke of Hei'an. By order of His Majesty, she shall be executed before the court and gods to restore order and honor to the realm."

The name-Mo Ran-echoed across the square.

So this is the body I've taken, Yue Lin thought, struggling to breathe through cracked ribs. Her new lungs ached with each breath. She was starved. Beaten. Publicly shamed. Her long black hair clung to her face, streaked with rain and something far darker.

The crowd jeered.

"She tried to lay hands on the Black Dog!"

"Did she think her face could save her from a warhound?"

"She poisoned the Duke and failed! What a foolish little peacock!"

---

Yue Lin didn't react. She knew this game.

She'd seen men executed for far less in the undergrounds of Macau, where silence was bought in flesh. She understood the politics of punishment. Public death wasn't about guilt. It was about power. Humiliation. A message.

Her fingers twitched slightly behind her, feeling for the knot in the rope. Her hands were bruised, but not broken.

They hadn't realized she'd once killed a man with a broken spoon and two fingers.

> I'll escape.

I'll find out who sent me here.

And I'll burn every last one of them.

Her resolve burned hotter than her body's pain. But before she could move, the executioner stepped forward.

He wore the ceremonial mask of the imperial bladesman-silver, carved in the shape of a snarling beast. His sword was long, curved, pristine. Forged to end life with dignity and speed.

He raised the blade.

The crowd fell into a breathless hush.

And then-

"Stop."

---

The word cracked across the courtyard like a whip.

Low. Cold. Absolute.

Even the rain seemed to pause.

From the edge of the palace corridor, black boots stepped into view-slow, steady, soundless. Guards parted like mist as he passed, heads bowed low in fear and reverence.

He moved like a shadow sharpened into a man.

Cloaked in layered black silk, his long dark hair tied loosely at the nape, a raven-shaped crest sewn over his chest. His presence struck like thunder, not loud-but felt.

He was tall. Broad-shouldered. His expression unreadable beneath the lantern light, but his eyes...

His eyes were like obsidian blades dulled by old blood.

Li Zeyan. Duke of Hei'an.

The Emperor's warhound. Conqueror of the North. The Black Dog. The Crimson General.

He was known to burn traitors alive. To raze cities that defied him. They said no woman had ever held his gaze for more than a heartbeat.

Until now.

---

Yue Lin looked up-rain dripping from her chin, her hair wild and wet-and met his gaze without flinching.

And in that moment... something shifted.

The way his eyes narrowed. The way his head tilted ever so slightly. Like a man looking not at a criminal... but at something unexpected. Familiar.

He stepped forward, the hem of his cloak dragging behind him like smoke.

The executioner froze.

"Duke Li-?" the old priest began.

"I was not informed of this sentence," Li Zeyan said, his voice quiet, but sharp enough to make a grown man swallow his own tongue. "Who gave this order?"

"The Emperor himself-"

"The Emperor," the Duke said, "is not here."

He turned to the bound girl-no, woman-before him. Her back bloodied, her mouth cracked, her gaze unwavering.

A noblewoman? No. A victim? Hardly.

She looked at him like she had killed men greater than him and bled without fear.

And somehow, Li Zeyan smiled.

A dangerous, private thing.

> "Unbind her."

"Now."

The guards looked at one another, panicked.

"But, Your Grace-she-"

> "She is under my protection," he said, loud enough for the nobles to hear.

"She is not Mo Ran."

"She is Lady Li. Duchess of Hei'an."

"My wife."

---

The world broke into chaos.

Nobles gasped. Someone screamed. Others backed away, as though her bruised body had suddenly become plague-touched.

Even Yue Lin stiffened.

> Wife?

He had no reason to protect her. No history. No debt. No mercy.

Unless-

> He sees something in me.

Or worse...

> He knows.

---

The ropes fell away, and Yue Lin stumbled forward-but did not fall. Her body ached, but her pride held her upright.

Li Zeyan stepped closer, towering over her now. He leaned in, voice a ghost between them.

> "Who are you really?" he whispered.

She didn't answer. Her lips parted, her eyes sharp-but her silence was her power.

He straightened, his expression unreadable.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, his voice echoing as he called to his guards.

> "Bring her to the manor."

"Let the city know: the Duke has chosen his bride."

"And he does not choose lightly."

---

As the crowd stared in stunned silence, Yue Lin stood barefoot, bloodied and half-conscious-but alive.

Claimed by a monster. Rescued by a stranger.

And somewhere deep inside her-beneath the assassin's training, beneath the time-ripped confusion-a small voice whispered:

> This is only the beginning.