Everywhere was filled with attendants serving the grandeur of the Palace. Of course, this was no ordinary place...it was the heart of the empire that ruled not only its people but also commanded respect from other kingdoms. They passed through the second gate, which itself was so magnificent that to describe it would be a challenge even for the most imaginative mind.
All around, servants moved back and forth...men and women alike...while splendid structures rose high into the sky, catching the eye with their imposing beauty. These tall, dazzling buildings seemed as though they did not belong to Beiping at all, but rather to another world entirely. From a distance, they resembled ships slicing through waves in the sky. Everywhere, lush greenery thrived, with broad avenues stretching so perfectly one might swear they surpassed any other road in the entire Beiping empire.
Being admitted into this grand palace, Zhan could not help but question reality itself. Was this truly the world of human, or was he lost in a dream? Everything seemed far too extraordinary, like the neighborhoods of foreign lands he had only ever glimpsed in films or read about in stories.
When the carriages finally halted and Zhan was ushered out, he was barely conscious of his surroundings. It wasn't only the dazzling wealth and splendor that left him dazed...there was also something deeper, a hidden weight in his spirit, a voice inside reminding him of the whispers surrounding the Beiping empire.
Then the sound of flutes and horns rose sweetly in the air, breaking through his thoughts and drawing him back to awareness. The music swept through the palace like a tide, its message clear to all who heard it: the Huang Fu had arrived.
The music lingered, echoing until all within the palace had received its meaning. Yet to Zhan, the words were foreign, and so he paid them no mind. Instead, he wiped away the tears that had continued to fall, his face still shadowed beneath the hood of his ornate ceremonial robe. His heart, however, beat with a vow so fierce it would chill the bravest soul if they could hear it:
If he must die, then he would not die alone. The King of Beiping would fall with him. If he were denied the chance to reveal the truth and reclaim freedom for his people, then he would drag their oppressor into the grave beside him. For the first time in what felt like ages, Zhan allowed a smile to cross his lips...sharp, dangerous, and utterly alive.
No one dared lift their gaze to him as the ceremony of trumpets and flutes ended. At last, one of the women who had been leading him forward approached with great reverence.
"Long live the Huang Fu. This is the wing of the Empress Dowager (Taihou), mother of the Emperor of this Palace, and matriarch to all within the Beiping empire."
For the first time, Zhan tilted his head just slightly beneath the hood, granting her the barest glance. She kept her eyes low, never daring to meet his. He said nothing, only turned his gaze toward the towering structure before him, the truth of her words reflected in its majesty.
He lowered his eyes again, concealing his thoughts. Yet his heart pounded as they passed deeper into the grand hall, attendants falling to their knees on either side as though in worship....not of him, but of the throne's shadow that ruled them all.
And then, for the first time in his life, Zhan found himself standing before the Empress Dowager. The second wife of the late Emperor Wang Murong, and the formidable mother of King Yibo himself.
A woman of striking beauty, she seemed almost sculpted by her own will, every curve and line of her form arranged in perfect command of presence. One brief glance from beneath his hood was enough to force Zhan's eyes back down. Her aura was overwhelming, her power unquestionable. Yes...she was indeed the Empress Dowager, the mother of the ruthless king who ruled this empire.

She was seated in one of the ornate chairs of the grand hall, a place that truly lived up to its name as the Palace of the World. Before reaching this inner chamber, they had already passed through magnificent halls that were themselves worthy of the title...palaces not of Beiping alone, but of the empire itself.
At her sides stood four noblewomen dressed in sumptuous silks, while attendants circled her with measured grace, each one careful not to overstep even by a breath. Those in her company, upon entering, bowed so deeply their trembling bodies nearly touched the ground. To Zhan, the sight was both daunting and awe-inspiring, a display of power that made his heart tighten.
Zhan remained standing until one of the ladies by the Empress Dowager approached, gently guiding him down to kneel upon the soft carpet directly before her. The Empress herself had not stirred; since their entrance, she had reclined in silence, her gaze fixed elsewhere, showing no acknowledgment of them at all.
For nearly two minutes, the chamber was utterly still, broken only by the faint hum of the cooling fans and the lingering trace of a rare fragrance that perfumed the air.
(If this is how the Empress Dowager commands such presence, what then of the King himself, whose authority crowns all?)
Unable to bear the silence further, Zhan raised his eyes slightly from beneath the brim of his ceremonial hood, daring a fleeting glance. To his shock, every pair of eyes...including those of the Empress Dowager...were already fixed upon him. The weight of their stare was overwhelming, the kind of gaze that demanded restraint before one could even attempt to interpret its meaning.
Zhan swallowed hard, forcing his breath past the knot in his throat. Lowering his head again until the hood veiled his face completely, he whispered softly, almost trembling, "Long live, Your highness."
One of the noblewomen answered on the Empress's behalf, "Her Majesty receives your greeting and welcomes you."
At last, the Empress Dowager lifted her gaze, her brilliant eyes steady upon Zhan. Slowly, she shifted her attention to one of the women at her side.
"It is done," she woman said simply.
The woman rose at once and crossed to Zhan. With both hands, she carefully pushed back the hood of his ceremonial veil. His face, pale and flushed from earlier weeping, was revealed....fine-featured, striking, and unmistakably noble.
Zhan squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed by the sudden exposure. His chest heaved, his breath faltering before steadying again.
Every servant in the room instinctively lowered their heads, for it was forbidden to look directly upon the face of the king royal consort.
For the first time, the Empress Dowager moved from her languid recline, her eyes lingering on Zhan for nearly two minutes, an appraisal deep and commanding. Finally, she shifted her gaze away with the composure of one long accustomed to power. She rubbed her fingers together lightly, producing two crisp clicks...dass! dass!...the signal of authority.
In an instant, an attendant approached, carrying a resplendent golden bowl inlaid with glittering jewels. She knelt before Zhan, still keeping her head bowed, as another attendant hurried forward to draw away the fine white cloth that covered it. Beneath the cover gleamed a bowl of pure, creamy milk, perfectly prepared and symbolic in its offering.
With a trembling voice and utmost care, the attendant announced:
"Your Royal Consort, Huang Fu! This milk is a precious gift from the hands of the Taihou Dowager, as a gesture of welcome into the Beiping Empire."
Zhan did not move. His stillness startled everyone present...even the Taihou Dowager herself. Ten long seconds passed before Zhan finally lifted his gaze. His large eyes, still reddened from earlier tears, fell upon the jeweled bowl and the attendant kneeling before him, as though begging for pardon.
Slowly, Zhan shook his head and lowered it again, bowing in restraint. His lips moved, and in a quiet voice he said:
"This honor is far greater than I deserve, and I offer my deepest gratitude to the Dowager Mother and to the Beiping Empire. Yet I must beg forgiveness for delaying in drinking this milk, for I was in a fast of preparation, not knowing today would become the most significant day of my life."
His words fell like drops of honey stirring the hearts of all who heard them. No one could conceal their astonishment, for such defiance had never before occurred within the Beiping court.
The Taihou Dowager withheld her reply for a long moment, her silence sharp as a blade, until she finally allowed herself a measured response. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, for even the princesses of ten noble houses who had entered the court before him had never dared refuse such a ritual. Each of them had accepted the milk with trembling hands, drinking it to the last drop, before bowing low in gratitude.
And yet here stood Zhan...youngest among all fourteen consorts ever brought to the palace...offering not refusal born of arrogance, but a restraint carried with dignity and unshaken composure.
One of the other women at the side of the Dowager cast Zhan a furious glare, her eyes flashing with outrage. But to everyone's surprise, the Taihou Dowager merely raised her hand, signaling her to remain seated. Then, with a majestic smile, she gave a subtle nod.
The bowl of milk was covered again, returned to its place, and the attendant rose. Zhan, having bowed once more, did not move further, his posture still and respectful.
For the first time, the Taihou Dowager spoke, her lips moving with the authority of one who had ruled for decades. Her voice, strong and commanding, resounded through the chamber:
"Take him to his quarters."
The weight of her tone struck Zhan like a current of power, his limbs trembling under its force. Truly, the Taihou Dowager embodied the full majesty of her station, a woman whose voice alone could silence nations and humble even the proudest hearts.
"Rest well, in peace and in joy," Zhan murmured respectfully, lowering his head once more as he rose with the help of one of the ladies beside him. His simple words, delivered with humility, startled those present once again. Even the Dowager herself glanced at him from beneath lowered lashes as he departed, a faint curve at her lips.
Deep within her heart, she felt the quiet stir of satisfaction. At last, her only son... the sovereign King of Beiping...had found a consort worthy of both bloodline and throne.
In her mind, this was the perfect moment to test her strength against those enemies who sought to bring down her lion son…
As the Taihou Dowager had commanded, the royal consort Zhan was escorted to his quarters. His residence was situated close to the women's quarters of King Yibo... two of his consorts who were still alive... and directly beside the King's grand palace wing, the most magnificent structure in the entire Beiping Empire. That palace shone with wealth, extravagance, and unrivaled security.
Zhan's own quarters, though separate, were no less refined. They bore every luxury and detail befitting one who carried the title Huang Fu. From the very first glance, any observer would recognize that only a royal consort of his status could belong there.
Following custom, Zhan was brought in a horse-drawn carriage, accompanied by the sound of flutes and pipes that softened the air with music, until they reached his residence. Only those with the highest privilege were permitted to enter, and they escorted him as far as the master bedchamber.
Once the attendants withdrew, Zhan slowly rose from where he had been sitting by the bed. His hands trembled as he removed his ceremonial crown, his eyes filling with tears. For several moments...three long, quiet minutes...he simply stood there, gazing around the chamber. He spoke no word. Instead, he picked up his travel chest, stepped outside, and pulled the door closed behind him.
Rather than pause to admire the sitting room he now entered, he carefully inspected each corner, silently counting the doors. One in particular caught his attention: a golden-hued door that seemed different from the rest. With a heavy heart and pity for himself, he reached out and turned the handle.
The chamber within was also lavish, though styled differently from the first. Its arrangement and decoration bore the dignity of royalty, the kind reserved for the great houses of power in the Beiping Empire.
Zhan exhaled, though no peace reached his chest. Instead, a heavy weight pressed against him, suffocating the very breath from his lungs. He set down his small case, sat on the edge of the bed, and collapsed into fresh sobs. In truth, he had just committed two grave acts: refusing to drink the Dowager's milk of welcome, and abandoning the chamber originally assigned to him for another.
Would the Taihou Dowager's ambitions still succeed? Or would Zhan, like the royal consorts before him, falter under the same shadow of death whose culprit remained a mystery to this day? If the hand behind those killings was the King himself… then how would the Taihou Dowager fare in this dangerous game? For as the saying went, "If you dare stir the hornet's nest, be ready for its sting."
Zhanxianyibo💚❤️💛