Ghost in the palace

The warmth of the kitchen still lingered in the air when the eunuch’s voice rang across Phoenix Hall.

”His Grace, Duke Lian, arrives to greet Her Majesty, the Queen Consort!”

Lian An set the ladle down with trembling fingers. A current of unease ran through her chest. Her father. Her sister. At least, this body’s father and sister.

The screen doors opened.

Duke Lian stepped through, his figure tall and broad-shouldered, his steps heavy with authority. His hair was touched with silver, but the lines on his face did not dim his presence. Yet when his sharp eyes fell upon her, the harshness softened—like steel tempered with fire.

Beside him, Lian Hua all but skipped in, her youthful features lit with relief. She was dressed in pale blue silk, her hair pinned with simple jade, but her expression carried a warmth jewels could never buy.

Ananya’s heart twisted painfully.

It wasn’t exact. But something in their gazes, in the unguarded love written on their faces, mirrored her parents and sibling from her past life. Her father in the restaurant, steady even when debts pressed on them. Her sister laughing, tugging at her apron, stealing bites of freshly fried dumplings.

They don’t know their daughter is gone. And yet... how can I see them and not think of my family?

She drew a steady breath and bowed low. ”Father. Sister.”

Duke Lian inclined his head with grave dignity. ”My daughter.”

Lian Hua forgot protocol entirely. She ran to her sister and clasped her hands. ”You look so well! I worried night after night—what if the palace was too harsh? But you’re radiant!”

Lian An smiled faintly, though her throat ached. ”I am well.” And from this moment on, I will be your daughter. Truly.

---

They sat at the low dining table. Steam curled from the dishes—ginger broth, scallion pancakes golden and crisp, sautéed vegetables glistening with sesame oil.

Lian Hua inhaled deeply and blinked. ”Sister... did you—?”

”Yes,” Lian An answered gently. ”I cooked. Just a little.”

The girl’s eyes rounded in wonder. ”The Queen Consort cooking? If the palace knew—”

”Let them not know,” Duke Lian cut in, his tone firm. But he lifted his chopsticks and tasted the broth. For a long moment, silence reigned.

Then, quietly, he said, ”This flavor... your mother used to make it. When winters were cruel, and my duties kept me late, she always warmed the house with this soup.”

The words pierced through her like an arrow.

In her mind, she saw her other parents in their little restaurant—her mother with rolled-up sleeves ladling soup, her father chuckling as he chopped scallions, steam fogging the windows, warmth banishing the chill outside.

Her eyes stung. She lowered her gaze quickly, taking a sip to mask the tremor in her lips. Two families. Two worlds. But the love feels the same.

Fen Yu drifted close, whispering with shining eyes, ”Ananya, this... this is home, isn’t it?”

Wei Rong’s deep voice rumbled softly, ”A hearth, warm and steady. Guard it well, girl.”

Li Shen inclined his head. ”Even if the thread between lives has twisted, its knot remains. Hold on.”

---

Lian Hua took a bite of pancake and squealed. ”Delicious! Sister, it’s better than the palace kitchens. You must cook for me every visit!”

Ananya chuckled softly. ”Still greedy.”

The girl’s cheeks flushed, but she laughed, leaning closer. ”If it means eating your food, I’ll be greedy forever.”

Duke Lian set his bowl down slowly, his gaze resting on her. ”You’ve changed. You’ve grown stronger. I see it in your eyes.”

Her heart squeezed, but her voice was steady. ”The palace forces one to grow quickly. But... I will endure.”

His large, calloused hand reached across the table, covering hers with gentle weight. ”Then remember this. Whatever storms rise here, you still have a home outside these walls. You are not alone.”

Her lashes lowered. The tears burned hot, but she did not let them fall. ”Yes, Father.”

Lian Hua tugged her sleeve. ”And you have me! Always. I’ll... I’ll fight anyone who dares hurt you.”

”Fight?” Duke Lian raised a brow.

Lian Hua puffed her cheeks. ”Well, maybe not fight. But I’ll cry until you fight for me!”

For the first time in weeks, Lian An’s laugh rang clear and warm.

Fen Yu dabbed at her eyes dramatically. ”Even ghosts envy this kind of love.”

Wei Rong looked away, gruff. ”Don’t make me soft, girl.”

Li Shen’s faint smile deepened. ”She is no longer just enduring. She is living.”

---

The meal wound down with gentle laughter—Lian Hua sneaking an extra pancake onto her sister’s plate, Duke Lian scolding but not hiding the pride in his eyes.

When at last the dishes were cleared, Duke Lian cleared his throat. ”There is another purpose to our visit.”

Lian An straightened.

”In three nights, our household will host a banquet. We wish to invite you, daughter, and His Majesty, to dine at the Duke’s manor. It has been too long since our family gathered. It would honor us to welcome the Emperor—and to welcome you home.”

Lian Hua clasped her hands together, eyes shining. ”Yes, Sister! Come. I’ll hang lanterns and save the best seat by me.”

Her chest tightened. Home. They called it home. Even if the soul who belonged to them is gone, they still open their arms to me.

Her voice was soft but resolute. ”I will speak to His Majesty. If he agrees, I will come. It would be my joy.”

Duke Lian gave a rare, approving nod. ”Then it is settled. We shall prepare a feast worthy of our Emperor—and our daughter.”

As they rose to leave, his hand pressed firmly to her shoulder. ”Endure. And remember—you are never without us.”

Her voice wavered, but she held her chin high. ”I will remember, Father.”

---

When their footsteps faded, silence settled in Phoenix Hall.

Ananya pressed her palm to her chest, her heart aching and warm all at once. They are not mine. But today, I decide—I will be theirs. Completely.

Fen Yu twirled, beaming. ”Two families in one lifetime. Twice the love. That’s a blessing.”

Wei Rong smirked faintly. ”Better than any crown.”

Li Shen’s voice was calm, steady. ”Then hold to it, Ananya. Because storms are coming.”

She nodded, her gaze lifting to the latticed window where the winter light streamed in. Let them come. I will not let this love slip away again.