"How long do you think you can pretend?"
Those words cut the Red Hall like a blade. Zhou Huan's hand did not tremble.
She stepped forward. Guests froze mid-breath. A fan dropped and tumbled across lacquered floorboards.
Lady Liu smiled the way she always did at public functions—bright, neat, unassailable. She put a hand to her chest as if offended by a mosquito bite.
"You insolent—" Lady Liu began, then the hairpin left Zhou Huan's fingers.
Metal met flesh. A soft, obscene sound. Lady Liu's smile split.
"Lady Liu!" someone screamed.
Maids launched for Zhou Huan. A cluster of silk and gasps. Rong sprang up the dais, nails white on the edge of the cushion.
"Stop! Stop her!" shouted a steward.
"Grab the blade!" another voice barked.
Zhou Huan did not run. She held the hairpin in her palm like proof.
"You killed my childhood," she said. Her voice was calm enough to be a taunt. "You fed me to courts and whispers and called it duty."
"You will pay for this!" Lady Liu managed. Blood slicked her fingers when she tried to touch Zhou Huan's cheek.
"Seize her!" Madam Zhou bellowed from the high seat. Two attendants moved like trained dogs. They were not fast enough.
"Let her go!" Zhou Qing snapped, stepping forward with porcelain rage. "She has ruined the ceremony."
"Rong!" Zhou Huan snapped. "Open the east door."
Rong's eyes widened. She froze for half a breath, then obeyed without
