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Qing Yao's lips curved faintly, but her eyes smoldered with contempt. A weak little witch dares to sit above themas Empress? The thought hissed through her mind like venom. Just wait until this tea ceremony is over. Does she truly believe her fragile life will last long in this palace?
Qing Yao seethed inwardly. Among the concubines, she was the youngest—only sixteen—yet her delicate features made her look no older than fourteen. Her face radiated innocence, with soft, chubby cheeks and wide, deer-like eyes that peeked shyly at Feng Ling.
The moment Feng Ling met her gaze, she quickly looked away, as though afraid of being scolded or caught. No one would ever believe that such an innocent-looking girl could harbor such malicious thoughts.
Feng Ling, unaware of the storm brewing in the concubine's mind, remained composed. When Zhǐlán scolded the women for their insolence, Feng Ling said nothing. She knew well that, in matters of the inner palace, her authority as Empress was the only shield she had.
Without wielding it, few would ever show her the respect her title demanded. Still, she cared little for their acceptance. Respect meant nothing—so long as no one dared to plot against her.
But what she did not yet understand was that the moment she had married Mo Tian, she had become a thorn in many eyes. To them, her very existence was already an obstacle, a threat. Even if she avoided trouble, even if she tried to keep her head down, trouble would come to her.
And it had already begun.
The tea ceremony began. One by one, two demon concubines stepped forward, their movements elegant, their smiles carefully rehearsed. They presented the tea with flawless grace, and the hall remained hushed—calm, almost unnaturally so. Nothing had gone wrong. Not yet.
Soon, it was Su Mian's turn. A witch concubine, she stepped forward to serve the tea, her movements were graceful, but her eyes held a glint that was anything but innocent. Taking the porcelain cup from Feng Ling's maid, she turned and offered it with a smile that was not quite a smile.
Feng Ling reached out to accept it, but just as her fingers brushed the cup, Su Mian leaned slightly closer, her lips parting in the faintest whisper—words meant for her alone.
"Come find me later. I know what you're planning—you want to escape this place, don't you? I do as well. We can help each other."
The words hit her like a spark against dry tinder. Feng Ling's calm nearly cracked, her heartbeat quickening. Someone knew? Her hand trembled before clenching into a fist, masking the sudden surge of excitement. Could it be—had she finally found an ally who understood her plight?
But almost instantly, doubt cooled her rising hope. Su Mian had been a concubine in Mo Tian's Palace for some time, enjoying her wealth and status. Why would she risk all of that to run away? And why reveal such a dangerous secret here, of all places?
Even if Feng Ling had already colluded with Mo Tian's brother, Xie Ran, she did not fully trust him—he was a demon, and demons were never to be trusted. Still… she needed answers. She needed to know Su Mian's true intentions.
Yu Wei approached with the tea, her expression calm—almost too calm. She stepped forward, the porcelain cup poised delicately between her fingers, and presented it to Feng Ling with a smile that never reached her eyes.
Zhǐlán's sharp eyes caught the faint, deliberate shift in Yu Wei's grip. Her body tensed, and she moved a step closer, ready to shield Feng Ling if something happened.
Just as Feng Ling's hand brushed the cup, Yu Wei abruptly let go. Crash!
The teacup shattered against the floor, hot tea splattering everywhere. Gasps echoed through the hall. But before a single drop could touch Feng Ling, Zhǐlán's magic surged forth—a shimmering barrier blooming into existence like a shield of light, deflecting every scalding splash and wrapping Feng Ling in flawless protection.
Yu Wei, however, was not so lucky. The steaming tea splashed across her robes and skin. Instead of wincing, she lifted her head slowly, tears brimming in her eyes, her lips trembling as if in unbearable grievance.
"I never thought…" her voice quivered, choked with sobs, "that the Empress would hate me so much as to ruin my face. I only wanted to serve you tea, yet you let it fall on purpose—to hurt me!"
She collapsed to her knees, her red-rimmed eyes locked pitifully on Feng Ling, her tears dripping like falling pearls. To an outsider, she looked like the victim of cruel jealousy.
The hall fell into uneasy silence at Yu Wei's pitiful cry. The other concubines exchanged glances—some with faint pity, others with poorly concealed delight—as they watched her skin redden from the scalding tea. Though the burn was not severe, it was enough to draw attention.
Without waiting for Feng Ling's response, Yu Wei turned and fled the hall, tears streaking down her face as her two maidservants hurried after her.
Qing Yao's gaze followed her retreating figure, her lips curling into a mocking smile. So impatient… On the very first day of paying respects to the empress, Yu Wei had already caused a scene, daring even to frame the Empress as though Feng Ling would stoop to such schemes.
Did she not realize how full of holes her plan was? Why would Feng Ling, who shared no love with Mo Tian, waste her efforts on jealousy over a mere concubine?
No—Yu Wei had only revealed her own foolishness.
Qing Yao's eyes glimmered with disdain as she watched the scene unfold. How foolish. Why would Feng Ling deliberately spill the tea? Such a reckless act would risk scalding herself as well.
If Feng Ling truly wished to humiliate Yu Wei, there were far subtler ways—like forcing her to hold the searing cup until her delicate skin blistered. That would have left a lasting mark, far more humiliating than a simple spill.
No, Yu Wei was simply too impatient and short-sighted. Yet, that worked in Qing Yao's favor. If Feng Ling eliminated Yu Wei for her, then she would remain the only favored concubine. The thought brought a fleeting curl to her lips.
Just yesterday, Qing Yao had spent all her resources gathering information on the so-called Empress. She had learned that Feng Ling once had a fiancé—someone she had loved deeply—until Mo Tian seized her by force.
Her family had perished soon after, a tragedy she secretly blamed on him. So, the Empress bore no love for the Emperor, and in truth, he felt nothing for her either. That much was certain.