The Empress's words lingered in Yun Xi's ears like a low chant long after she left the lotus pavilion. Neutrality is betrayal. The phrase wound itself around her thoughts, choking them like vines.
By the time she returned to her quarters, dusk had settled, painting the sky in shades of bruised violet. Yun Xi sat at her desk, brush hovering above paper, yet no words came. For the first time, her pen felt heavier than steel.
"Scholar Yun," a whisper broke the silence.
It was Liu'er, her trusted servant boy, slipping through the door with anxious eyes. "I heard strange tidings. A clerk from the Ministry of Rites was found dead near the eastern gate. They say he drowned in wine, but…" His face paled. "Others whisper he was one of Lord Kang's men."
Yun Xi stiffened. A message, no doubt—a warning disguised as an accident. Those tied to Kang were being silenced, one by one. And soon, whispers would turn toward her.
"Say nothing of this beyond these walls," Yun Xi ordered. But her voice quavered. The palace devoured truth, regurgitating rumor.
That night, sleep eluded her. She dreamed of crimson-stained ledgers and the Empress's smile curving like a crescent blade.
At dawn, she was summoned again—this time not by the Empress, but by Concubine Mei.
The concubine's chamber shimmered with intoxicating fragrance, rose petals scattered like spilled secrets. Mei reclined upon her couch, clad in gauzy silks that revealed more than they hid. Her eyes glittered with mischief as Yun Xi bowed.
"So," Mei purred, "the mighty scholar has tamed the court with ink. Tell me, little fox—how does it feel to be hunted by wolves?"
Yun Xi held her composure. "This servant knows not what Your Grace implies."
"Oh, come now." Mei laughed softly, a sound like silver bells over venom. "The Empress has claimed you, has she not? Her eyes follow you as though you were a prized hawk. But hawks, too, are tethered."
Mei leaned forward, her perfume dizzying. "Why not serve me instead? I offer something the Empress cannot—freedom. With her, you will forever be her pawn. With me…" She smiled languidly. "…you may rise beyond the board."
Yun Xi's heart hammered. To refuse openly would risk Mei's wrath; to agree would court death under the Empress's watchful eyes.
"This servant is unworthy of such favor," she said carefully. "But should the realm prosper, does it not benefit all within the palace?"
Mei studied her, lips curling. "A diplomat's tongue. Perhaps I underestimated you."
She waved a hand, dismissing Yun Xi. Yet as Yun Xi retreated, she felt the sting of Mei's gaze between her shoulder blades.
Two women. Two nets. And Yun Xi was caught in the center.
That evening, in the solitude of her chamber, Yun Xi unrolled a blank scroll. She dipped her brush, writing a single line in cramped, careful strokes:
Survival is no longer enough. I must learn to play.