Before the Executioner's blade

The first time Shen Yichen realized that his life was in danger, he was carrying a cup of tea. It was an ordinary cup of white porcelain with blue flowers painted around the rim. The tea inside was still hot, and the steam curled lazily toward his face as he walked through the eastern corridor of the Shen residence. He had no idea that before the sun set, three different people would lie to him, one would threaten him, and the Emperor himself would ask a question that would change everything he thought he knew about his mother. For now, however, Yichen's only concern was not spilling the tea. He stopped outside his father's study. Two guards stood on either side of the door. Neither acknowledged him. Yichen knocked once. “Enter.” He pushed the door open. Shen Rong was seated behind his desk, reading a document. His dark robes were embroidered with the silver cloud pattern reserved for senior court officials, and the jade seal of the Imperial Advisor rested beside his hand. Yichen approached and placed the tea on the desk. “Your tea, Father.” Shen Rong didn't look up. “You're late.” “The kitchen delayed it.” “Then you should have gone earlier.” Yichen lowered his eyes. “Yes, Father.” Shen Rong finally looked at him. His gaze moved over Yichen's plain black robes, then stopped at his hands. “You're still wearing those?” Yichen glanced down. “They are clean.” “That wasn't my question.” There was nothing wrong with the clothes. That was the point. They were clean, modest and deliberately forgettable. Unlike his brothers, Yichen had no embroidered family crest on his chest. No expensive belt. No ornaments indicating that he belonged to one of the wealthiest households in the capital. He was Shen Rong's son by blood. That was where his importance ended. Shen Rong picked up his tea. “You will attend the palace banquet tonight.” Yichen looked up. He hadn't expected that. “Me?” “You will accompany the household.” Yichen almost laughed. His father had spent twenty years making sure nobody mistook him for a member of the Shen family. Now he wanted him at an imperial banquet? “Why?” Shen Rong's fingers stopped around the cup. “Because I said so.” That answer told Yichen more than the words themselves. Something was wrong. Before he could ask, Shen Rong continued. “You will remain with the servants.” Yichen's expression hardened. “If someone speaks to you, answer only what is necessary.” “Yes.” “You will not approach the Imperial Family.” “Yes.” “You will not speak unless spoken to.” Yichen nodded. “And if anyone asks who you are?” A pause. Shen Rong looked directly at him. “You are Shen Yichen, a servant accompanying the Shen household.” The room became very quiet. Yichen stared at him. He had been called many things in the Shen residence. Bastard. Concubine's son. Unwanted child. But somehow, hearing his father reduce him to a servant still hurt. “I understand.” Shen Rong looked away. “Good.” Yichen turned toward the door. “Yichen.” He stopped. His father rarely called him by name. “Do not cause trouble tonight.” Yichen looked over his shoulder. “When have I ever caused trouble?” Shen Rong's expression was unreadable. “Your existence has a habit of doing it for you.” Yichen said nothing. He walked out. The moment the door closed behind him, he heard his father's voice through the wood. “Seal the western gate.” Yichen stopped. A guard answered quietly. “Yes, Master.” “Tonight, no one leaves the residence without my permission.” Yichen's eyes narrowed. Why would his father suddenly lock down the household on the same night the family was attending a palace banquet? He continued walking. He had learned long ago that asking questions in the Shen household usually earned him punishment. It was better to listen. Better to remember. Better to wait. He had almost reached the courtyard when someone grabbed his wrist. Yichen turned sharply. “It's me.” Shen Rui released him. His second brother stood beneath the shade of a tree, still wearing his academy robes. His expression was calm, but his eyes immediately dropped to Yichen's hand. A red mark circled two of his fingers. “Who did that?” Yichen pulled his hand away. “No one.” Rui looked at him. “You've always been a terrible liar.” “I didn't lie.” “You said no one did it.” “And?” “Someone did.” Yichen sighed. “The kitchen maid dropped a tray.” Rui's expression didn't change. “Did she apologize?” “No.” “I see.” Yichen knew that tone. “Don't.” “I haven't done anything.” “You're thinking about it.” Rui looked almost offended. “I am capable of thinking without committing violence.” “That's not what Zhaoyan says.” “Zhaoyan is dramatic.” A voice came from behind them. “I'm standing right here.” Yichen turned. Shen Zhaoyan was walking across the courtyard. He had returned from the academy that morning, and unlike most members of the Shen household, he smiled when he saw Yichen. He reached them and immediately looked at Yichen's hand. His smile disappeared. “Who hurt you?” Yichen closed his eyes briefly. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” “Because you're hiding your hand.” “I am not.” “You are.” Rui folded his arms. “The kitchen maid.” Zhaoyan's expression darkened. Yichen pointed at Rui. “See? This is why I don't tell you things.” Rui shrugged. Zhaoyan looked between them. “Did she hurt you deliberately?” “No.” “Are you certain?” “Yes.” Zhaoyan was quiet for a moment. Then he reached out and gently turned Yichen's hand over. The mark wasn't serious. Still, something in his expression tightened. “You should have told me.” Yichen pulled his hand back. “And what would you have done?” “Nothing.” Yichen raised an eyebrow. Zhaoyan smiled. “Probably.” Rui snorted. “You would have started a fight.” “I said probably.” For the first time that morning, Yichen smiled. It disappeared when a palace messenger entered the courtyard. The man was dressed in the official crimson robes of an imperial messenger. Everyone straightened. “Which one of you is Shen Yichen?” Yichen stepped forward. “I am.” The messenger studied him. Then he looked at the two young masters beside him. “Come with me.” Zhaoyan immediately stepped forward. “Why?” The messenger's expression remained formal. “I have an imperial summons.” Yichen's stomach tightened. “For me?” “Yes.” The messenger reached into his sleeve and removed a small sealed envelope. “The Emperor has ordered this delivered directly into your hands.” Yichen stared at the imperial seal. His father had just told him not to cause trouble. Now the Emperor was summoning him personally. He took the envelope. It was heavier than it should have been. Not because of what was inside. Because of the tiny symbol pressed into the wax beneath the imperial seal. A jasmine flower. Yichen stopped breathing. His mother had worn a jade pendant carved into the exact same shape. He hadn't seen that symbol since he was six years old. He looked toward the study. Shen Rong was standing in the doorway. Their eyes met. For the first time in Yichen's memory, his father's face held no anger. Only fear. Yichen slowly turned the envelope over. “Father?” Shen Rong didn't answer. Yichen broke the seal. His father took one step forward. “Yichen.” Yichen looked at him. Shen Rong's voice dropped to a whisper. “Don't read it.” Yichen unfolded the letter. There were only six words. Come alone. Tell no one. Below them was the Emperor's seal. And beneath the seal, written in a different hand, was a single sentence. **Ask your father what happened to Lin Yuehua.**