Shadows of Crimson and Snow

Minister Wu's study smelled of death and chrysanthemums. The elderly official lay sprawled across his writing desk, his brush still clutched in rigid fingers as if death had interrupted his last words. Dr. Wei Ruyi knelt beside the body, noting how the white flower in the minister's chest seemed to glow in the lamplight.

"Different from the others," he murmured, more to himself than the watching guards. "The cut is rougher, more angry. And look here—" He pointed to spilled tea on the desk. "Two cups. Our minister was entertaining a guest."

Captain Chen of the palace guard shifted uncomfortably. "Minister Wu was the Crown Prince's most vocal supporter in court. With him gone..."

"The balance of power shifts," Wei Ruyi finished, studying a half-burnt letter in the brazier. Through the char marks, he could make out fragments: "...northern borders..." and "...General Bai's last orders..."

The sound of silk on wooden floors announced new arrivals. Princess Xiaoyan swept in with her twin shadows, her crimson robes a stark contrast to the white petals scattered across the floor. Behind her, the Crown Prince arrived with his own entourage, his face a perfect mask of grief.

"Dear sister," Li Chengyi's voice carried just a hint of accusation, "how strange to find you here, so far from your usual garden."

"Strange indeed, brother, that you arrived so quickly from your evening hunt." The princess's veiled head tilted. "Yet you still wear your court robes, not hunting leather."

Wei Ruyi watched the subtle play of tension between the siblings while examining a jade paperweight on the minister's desk. Carved into its surface was a curious pattern – two swords crossed over a chrysanthemum.

A commotion outside drew their attention. Zhou Jinlei burst in, his merchant's composure unusually ruffled. "Your Highnesses," he bowed hastily. "The White Ghost has been seen near the imperial temple. He's fighting the palace guards!"

The Crown Prince's eyes were sharpened. "Capture him! Dead or alive!"

But the princess raised her hand. "Wait, Dr. Wei, what do you make of this?" She pointed to the minister's last written words, the ink still wet: "The twin dragons rise..."

Before Wei Ruyi could respond, Ming Huahua appeared at the door, her face pale. "Your Highness, the Emperor has collapsed. The court physicians are with him now."

The Crown Prince moved with sudden urgency, but Wei Ruyi noticed how his hands remained steady, betraying no genuine surprise. As the prince swept out with his entourage, the princess lingered.

"Doctor," she said softly, "have you ever noticed how a chrysanthemum's petals mirror each other? Like twins separated at birth?"

She glided away before he could respond, leaving him to ponder her words. Outside, the clash of swords grew louder. Wei Ruyi rushed to the window in time to see a figure in black leap impossible distances between rooftops, white hair streaming like a battle flag. Palace guards followed, but their movements seemed clumsy in comparison.

In the confusion, Zhou Jinlei slipped away from the scene, moving with the practiced grace of a warrior, not a merchant. He headed toward the Moon Lotus Tea House, where Madam Sun was already preparing a private room.

"The pieces move faster now," the old woman murmured as she poured tea for her late-night guest. "But does the White Ghost dance to his own tune, or another's?"

Zhou Jinlei's usually smiling face was grave. "Both, perhaps. But there's something else." He produced a crumpled message. "Ming Huahua found this in her quarters. A threat written in the Crown Prince's hand."

Meanwhile, in her tower, Princess Xiaoyan stood before a secret panel on her wall. Behind it lay an old military map marked with General Bai's personal seal. Her fingers traced the northern borders where the general had fallen.

"Feng Xiao," she called softly, "bring me the records from that night. It's time we learned what really happened to the general's sons."

But as her guard moved to obey, a haunting flute melody drifted through the night air. The princess froze, her hand tightening on the map. The song spoke of loss and revenge, of bonds broken and reformed.

In his own chamber, Dr. Wei Ruyi added to his growing notes: "Minister Wu knew something about the northern campaign. The Crown Prince moves too smoothly, like a practiced dance. And why does a mere princess have access to military records?"

He paused, a sudden memory flickering at the edge of his mind – a childhood song, a flash of white hair, the clash of twin swords. But like mist in the morning sun, it vanished before he could grasp it.

Outside the city walls, a lone figure stood beneath the moon. The White Ghost raised his flute once more, its melody carrying secrets across the sleeping city. Behind him, another figure watched from the shadows, identical in all but soul, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The night wind carried white chrysanthemum petals like snow, while beneath the palace, ancient secrets stirred like dragons waking from their slumber.