The incense coiled lazily through the upper chamber of the Celestial Palace, where only two figures sat beneath the painted dragons of the imperial canopy.
The Emperor did not look up as Prince Ning entered. He traced a finger along a weathered scroll laid open before him—an old map of Qi's western borderlands. Rivers were inked in blue, now faded. The mountains, jagged black peaks. And to the far left—just a breath from the edge—sat the province where 100,000 Xia soldiers had gathered.
"A storm builds," the Emperor murmured, "and all our umbrellas are made of silk."
Prince Ning approached slowly, hands clasped behind his back. "The scouts confirm movement. Xia is no longer posturing."
The Emperor finally looked up. "Then the Offering was a warning. Not just to us, but to all who would challenge them. It failed, but the message remained."
"The Offering was nearly disgraced," Ning replied. "And the one who led it… she's bold. Too bold. Shall I remove her?"
A faint smile crept onto the Emperor's lips.
"No. We will promote her."
Prince Ning arched an eyebrow. "Reward the insolent?"
"Control the ambitious," the Emperor corrected. "Raise her to where every eye in court can see her. Hang silk around her cage and call it privilege."
"And if she sees through it?"
"She already has," the Emperor said simply. "But she'll play along. Because she understands that survival comes in seasons."
Ning was silent for a moment. Then, "And Lord Yu?"
The Emperor's expression didn't change. "A relic of a failed game. His exile was never punishment. It was pruning. We let his roots stretch just far enough to lead us to the rot."
"Shall I keep him alive for further questioning?"
The Emperor waved a hand, dismissive.
"Execute him. Quietly."
Prince Ning bowed.
Outside, the drums echoed faintly in the courtyard. Spring had not yet ended, but the air was already turning heavier, thicker—like breath before a storm.
Elsewhere in the palace, Ziyan stepped through the corridor of the Eastern Records Pavilion, flanked by two guards not quite trying to hide their disdain. She had not been shackled, but the implication of their presence was enough.
Ahead, Zhang Jinrui stood waiting. His appearance was immaculate as ever, but his expression was taut with quiet fury.
When Ziyan stepped into the chamber, the guards moved to follow—but Jinrui raised a hand.
"She's in my custody now."
The guards hesitated, exchanged a look, then nodded and stepped back.
Ziyan released a breath she hadn't realised she was holding.
"You came," she said softly.
"You shouldn't have needed me to," Jinrui replied. "But you were right. You drew out the saboteur. The forged records, the falsified offerings, the orders traced back to Lord Yu. You brought the blade close enough for us to seize it."
Ziyan's shoulders relaxed. "Then why am I still being punished?"
"You embarrassed too many people in front of too many others," Jinrui said. "You won. But court victories always come with fines."
He offered a dry smile.
"They're calling it a 'temporary detainment under advisory review.' But it ends today. You're being released."
Ziyan blinked. "That easily?"
"Not exactly," Jinrui said. "You're being promoted. A higher advisory post within the Palace Records Division. With a raise in rank and access to more confidential archives."
Her eyes narrowed. "And the catch?"
"You're now one of the most closely watched officials in court."
She laughed once, dryly. "A gilded cage."
"Exactly."
They stepped into the open air, where Lianhua waited beneath the shade of a plum tree, face turned upward. When she saw Ziyan, her composure broke.
"You look like you died and came back," Lianhua muttered, half-hugging her. "Next time, maybe don't fight half the court at once?"
Ziyan allowed herself a smile. "Next time, I'll aim for all of them."
Li Qiang appeared at the edge of the walkway, nodding slightly. "Still breathing, then."
"Barely," Ziyan said. "But we're here."
Lianhua tilted her head. "Speaking of barely breathing… any news on Wen Yufei?"
Ziyan hesitated. "He's alive. In hiding."
Li Qiang crossed his arms. "We smuggled him out the night after the attack. He was wounded—but not badly. Someone tried to silence him."
"Because he knew too much?" Lianhua asked.
"Because he knew exactly who falsified the temple signatures," Ziyan said. "Lord Yu."
"And why hide?" Lianhua asked, voice softer now.
Ziyan's gaze drifted. "He didn't say much. Only that he couldn't return… because of my father."
There was silence.
Even the birds held their breath.
Ziyan turned away from the corridor and walked slowly toward the teahouse where they had all first conspired.
By the time they gathered inside, night had fallen. Lanterns cast long shadows. The air was thick with unspoken truths.
Wei sat near the hearth, arms folded. His travel cloak was still dusted with dirt. He looked like he hadn't slept.
Lianhua poured tea without being asked. "You missed quite a show."
"I heard," Wei said, eyes on Ziyan. "You nearly got killed."
"Nearly," Ziyan echoed. "But we got what we needed."
Wei leaned forward, unrolling a fresh scroll over the table.
"These are the latest movement logs from Xia. Their soldiers have begun diverting north. Quietly, without declaration. But make no mistake—it's mobilization."
"Any confirmed numbers?" Li Qiang asked.
"Over one hundred thousand now stationed along the river plains," Wei said grimly. "And Qi's eastern strongholds are exposed."
"Because Zhao moved them months ago," Ziyan murmured. "He was clearing the western front. In case of war—or for it."
"Which means," Lianhua said carefully, "this has been planned for longer than we thought."
Wei nodded. "And now the court's attention is split. After the Offering scandal, after Lord Yu's execution… no one wants to ring the war bell."
Ziyan tapped the table once. "Then we do it ourselves."
Everyone turned to her.
She looked tired. But not defeated.
"If the Emperor is willing to reward truth when it serves him, then we feed him more of it. We expose the cracks before they widen. And if he's truly playing both sides, we'll know."
"And if he lets you fall again?" Jinrui asked from the doorway.
Ziyan smiled faintly.
"Then I'll rise again. And this time, I won't be alone."
The teahouse went quiet.
Outside, the lanterns fluttered in the night wind.
And somewhere, far from the Eastern Capital, the first horns of war began to stir.