The night air over the imperial capital carried a chill that hinted of early autumn. Lanterns along the palace walls flickered in rhythmic unison, each flame a fragile guard against the creeping dark. Within the hallowed corridors of the Inner Court, silence pressed heavily, broken only by the rustle of silken robes and the faint jingle of golden hairpins.
Behind a screen painted with peonies and phoenixes, a woman sat alone. Her posture was straight, regal to the point of severity, though the candlelight softened her silhouette. This was Empress Lian, the woman who had once entered the palace as a trembling bride and now commanded thousands of attendants with a single word.
Yet tonight her eyes betrayed fatigue. Her reflection in the polished bronze mirror revealed shadows beneath her gaze, a weariness born not of age but of endless battles fought without swords. The Inner Palace was no sanctuary—it was a battlefield where a smile could be venom, and silence could be sharper than a blade.
"Your Majesty," a maid whispered, kneeling low as she entered the chamber. "Concubine Mei has requested an audience. She claims to bring news of importance."
The Empress's lips curved, though not into a smile. "News of importance… or gossip meant to provoke? Let her wait. A bird that sings too eagerly often forgets the hunter's snare."
The maid withdrew, leaving Empress Lian to her thoughts.
Across the courtyard, Concubine Mei knelt gracefully, her pale hands resting atop her silk skirt. Among the women of the harem, Mei was known for her beauty—skin like porcelain, voice like flowing water. But what made her dangerous was her patience. Unlike others who flaunted themselves before the Emperor, Mei had learned the art of restraint.
She had not yet risen to favor, but her ambition was no secret.
Inside the chamber, Empress Lian finally gestured for her to enter.
"Concubine Mei," the Empress said, her voice even, cold as jade. "What matter presses you to disturb the quiet of my hall?"
Mei bowed low, her forehead nearly touching the ground. "Your Majesty, forgive my boldness. Word has reached my ears that the Emperor intends to grant favor to a new scholar from the Ministry of Rites. This scholar… though but newly entered into service, has already drawn His Majesty's interest with a single memorial. I fear such rapid favor might unsettle the harmony of the court."
The Empress's brows lifted slightly. "A new scholar?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. His name is Yun Xi." Mei's tone held subtle hesitation, as if she were uncertain whether to speak further. "They say he writes with the clarity of a seasoned statesman. His words have already moved the Emperor to laughter in court… and to anger against those who opposed him."
Empress Lian turned her gaze back to the bronze mirror. A new scholar, already stirring the Emperor's heart? How unusual. Men of talent entered service every year, yet few caught His Majesty's attention so swiftly.
"Thank you, Concubine Mei," the Empress said smoothly. "Your loyalty is commendable."
Mei bowed again, but as she rose, the flicker in her eyes betrayed her satisfaction. If the Empress's attention was drawn toward this Yun Xi, perhaps the Empress would become distracted—leaving Mei room to rise.
When the chamber emptied once more, Empress Lian whispered to herself, "Yun Xi… what manner of man has the heavens sent into this storm?"
That same evening, beyond the Inner Palace, Yun Xi adjusted the scholar's cap upon her head. In truth, she was no man at all. Beneath the scholar's robe, carefully bound chest and carefully lowered voice concealed her secret: Yun Xi was a woman.
Disguise had been her only path into the court. As a daughter of a fallen family, her future should have been bound to marriage or servitude. But she had inherited her late father's brilliance with the brush, and his dreams of service to the empire burned within her. Thus she had taken his courtesy name, donned his robes, and entered the examination hall.
Never had she imagined her memorial would so quickly catch the Emperor's eye.
"Yun Xi," her fellow scholar whispered as they walked from the Hall of Civil Affairs. "Tomorrow, His Majesty has summoned you to the private study. You are fortunate beyond measure!"
Yun Xi forced a modest smile. "Fortune is a fragile gift. One must tread carefully lest it shatter."
Yet within her, unease stirred. The Emperor's favor was both shield and sword—it could raise her to the heavens, or cast her into ruin. And if her disguise were uncovered, her life would end before the truth could even reach her lips.
She glanced toward the palace looming in the distance, its golden roofs catching the last light of dusk. Somewhere within those walls, women schemed for the Emperor's affection, and men plotted for power.
Yun Xi whispered softly, words carried only to herself: "If the heavens have given me this chance, I will not waste it. Even if it means walking upon a blade."
The lanterns above the palace gates blazed as night deepened, and the game began in earnest—though none yet realized the veiled phoenix had already spread her wings.