That night, Yun Xi labored by candlelight in her modest quarters, scrolls and ledgers spread like battle maps across her desk. Her disguise as a man felt heavy on her skin; the tight bindings beneath her robe constricted her chest, reminding her that discovery meant ruin not only as a scholar, but as a woman who dared tread forbidden ground.
She traced columns of numbers with ink-stained fingers, lips moving soundlessly as she calculated. Yes—here, a shipment recorded twice; there, a route that detoured weeks from its destination. Grain had vanished into shadows, stolen by hands cloaked in titles.
But names still eluded her. Whoever orchestrated the theft was cunning, erasing trails with meticulous care.
A soft tap on her door startled her. Yun Xi snuffed her candle quickly. "Who goes there?"
"It is I," came a gentle voice. The door slid open just enough to reveal Lady Hua, the Empress's personal attendant, holding a small lantern.
Yun Xi stiffened. Why would the Empress's shadow come to her?
Lady Hua entered gracefully, her smile mild yet unreadable. "Scholar Yun works late. How diligent. The Empress admires diligence above all things."
Yun Xi bowed cautiously. "This servant is honored by Her Majesty's regard."
"Her Majesty also admires loyalty." Lady Hua set the lantern upon the desk, casting its light upon the scattered ledgers. Her eyes lingered on the columns of ink. "She suggests that loyalty, like grain, must be accounted for. Misplaced, it becomes waste. Directed wisely, it sustains life."
The words were couched in metaphor, but the warning was clear. Align with the Empress—or risk being crushed by her hand.
Yun Xi lowered her head, masking the storm in her thoughts. "This servant's loyalty is to the Emperor and the realm."
Lady Hua's smile thinned. "Of course. Yet the Emperor has many voices in his ear. Some whisper sweetly, others sting with truth. Which voice endures longer, do you think?"
Without waiting for answer, she rose, her silken steps soundless. At the door she paused, glancing back. "The Empress plays weiqi each dawn. Perhaps Scholar Yun should learn the rules of the game."
Then she vanished, leaving Yun Xi in silence.
Yun Xi exhaled shakily. Every path led to entanglement. The Empress's hand reached for her, Concubine Mei's jealousy circled like a viper, and the Emperor himself watched with both favor and suspicion.
She looked down at the ledgers again, ink blurring before her tired eyes. "If truth cannot protect me," she whispered, "then may it at least arm me."
Outside, the palace winds stirred the lanterns, carrying with them faint echoes of laughter from unseen courtyards. To Yun Xi's ears, it sounded like the mocking chorus of ghosts.
And somewhere within the maze of halls, Concubine Mei received Eunuch Liang's report with a smile sharp as jade.
"So," she murmured, "our little scholar digs at roots best left buried. How fragile will that clever tongue become when choked with secrets?"