The morning was quiet and still, the palace draped in a pale mist as dawn's first light filtered softly through jade-green silk curtains. The corridors of the inner court lay hushed, yet beneath the calm, the palace thrummed with silent currents of tension—an undercurrent only those who knew its rhythm could sense.
Liang Gongong moved swiftly but cautiously through the labyrinthine halls, the muted sound of his footsteps swallowed by the heavy stone and polished wood. His robes, simple yet neat, whispered with every step, but he did not dare draw attention. Though titled a eunuch of middling rank, the summons he carried weighed upon his chest heavier than any insignia could.
Only the Third Prince would summon a eunuch directly—and at this hour, no less.
Liang paused before the imposing door of the Jade Pavilion, its dark lacquer etched with dragons coiled in silent vigilance. He exhaled slowly, steadying the flutter of nerves within. The court's rules forbade a prince of Han Zhen's rank from ordering audiences at whim; such an invitation was both rare and fraught with meaning.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside.
---
The chamber was serene yet austere. White marble pillars rose like silent sentinels beneath a ceiling painted with swirling clouds and phoenixes. At its center, on a low platform draped with deep indigo cloth embroidered with silver cranes, sat the Third Prince.
Han Zhen's eyes, sharp and dark as polished obsidian, were fixed on a distant courtyard beyond the latticed window. The faintest crease tugged at the corner of his mouth, but his face betrayed nothing of the thoughts churning behind those inscrutable eyes.
As Liang entered, Han Zhen's gaze slowly shifted, resting on him with a calmness that unsettled.
"Liang Gongong," the prince said softly, voice steady and deliberate, "are you well? You appeared unsteady yesterday at the Lotus Pavilion... near the pond. You nearly lost consciousness. Do you require the care of the palace physicians?"
There was an unusual nonchalance in his question, as if he already understood far more than he let on.
Liang bowed deeply, masking the quickened beat of his heart.
"Your Highness's concern honors me. The physicians tend to my recovery with great care."
Han Zhen's gaze lingered for a moment, dark and unreadable.
"The palace is no gentle place for the weak or inattentive. Even the smallest falter can have consequences."
The prince rose, the silver cranes upon his robes catching the morning light, shimmering like frozen whispers.
"I have summoned you because the air in the court grows thick with whispers and half-truths. The ministers watch one another like hawks circling prey. The regent's eyes are heavy with suspicion."
He gestured subtly toward a folding screen, painted with mist-shrouded mountains and winding rivers—symbols of the hidden currents beneath the court's surface.
"Tell me, Liang Gongong, what do you see among these shadows? Whose loyalty is as solid as the mountain stone? Whose breath carries the poison of betrayal?"
Liang met the prince's eyes squarely, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment.
"The court is a nest of vipers, Your Highness. Some speak with tongues dipped in honey, others with knives concealed beneath silk."
Han Zhen's lips curved into a faint smile—knowing, sharp.
"You understand well. That is why I have chosen you—not as mere servant, but as watcher and guardian."
Liang's chest tightened beneath his modest robes.
"To serve as Your Highness's eyes and ears, to shield your steps as we walk this treacherous path—that shall be my honor."
Han Zhen's gaze sharpened like the edge of a blade.
"Remember this: no palace wall is impenetrable. Power is a blade—both shield and weapon. One misstep and the tiger's teeth close without mercy."
The chamber fell silent except for the soft rustle of silk as the prince settled back upon the platform.
"Prepare yourself, Liang Gongong. Our journey begins beneath the moon's shadow. The court waits, and so do its serpents."
---
As Liang withdrew from the chamber, the prince's words echoed in his mind—more a command than a suggestion. The summons was no mere formality; it was an unspoken pact.
He was no longer merely a eunuch in the Third Prince's service. He was a sentinel on the knife's edge, caught between duty and survival.
---
The next hours passed in a blur of hushed conversations and covert glances. Liang moved among the palace servants, gathering fragments of information—the faintest sighs in the corridor, the hurried whispers of attendants.
The court was restless.
Rumors of the regent's faltering health circulated among the ministers. Whispers spoke of a rival faction coalescing behind a certain young general—ambitious, ruthless, and favored by some of the Emperor's old guards.
Yet Han Zhen remained calm—coldly calculating.
---
That evening, beneath the jade pavilion, Liang sat silently beside the prince. A servant poured fragrant tea into delicate cups, but neither spoke.
Finally, Han Zhen broke the silence.
"The regent grows weaker, and with him, the emperor's shadow recedes. The throne is unguarded, yet many still fear the old order's wrath."
He sipped the tea, eyes distant.
"Our strength lies not in open battle, but in the quiet dominion of influence."
Liang nodded.
"Then we must choose our allies with care and guard our weaknesses as fiercely as our strengths."
Han Zhen's gaze met his, unwavering.
"There is Minister Zhao. An old hawk cloaked in velvet. He watches with keen eyes and speaks with honeyed venom. He is a friend to some, an enemy to others."
Liang's thoughts flickered to the court's recent coldness toward him, the subtle glances of suspicion.
"The serpent coils closest where the light seems safest," he said.
Han Zhen smiled faintly.
"Well spoken, Liang Gongong. You are proving worthy.
Few know what truly happened that day. The court's gaze falters, but I do not."
Liang's breath caught.
The prince's eyes held a secret- dangerous.
"You are no accident in this palace, Liang Gongong. Your arrival was foretold, or perhaps—intended."
A chill settled in Liang's bones.
"Your Highness?"
Han Zhen's gaze grew sharper.
"The Mandate shifts, and with it, fate's weave."
He placed a hand lightly on Liang's shoulder.