The Vermilion Gate loomed again, red lacquer gleaming like blood under the setting sun. Yun Xi's heart tightened as she crossed the threshold back into the palace. What had once felt like a prison now seemed safer than the shadows she had seen outside—but only just.
Inside, the air was heavy with incense and whispers. Court ladies bowed, eunuchs hurried with lowered eyes, and rumors swirled like smoke. Yun Xi had left the palace for only two weeks, yet it seemed an eternity.
She carried the scrolls hidden in her sleeve, each one heavy as stone. They could topple a minister—or bury her beneath him.
Eunuch Chen lingered at her side, his face unreadable. "Be careful, Scholar Yun," he murmured. "Walls here have sharper ears than swords."
That night, Yun Xi attended a private summons in the Hall of Tranquil Harmony. The Emperor sat alone, draped in simple robes, his face weary but alert. He dismissed the guards and gestured for her to approach.
"Well?" His voice was low, dangerous. "Did you find the truth?"
Yun Xi knelt, unrolling the forged ledgers before him. "Your Majesty, the famine is not due to poor harvest. Grain shipments were diverted—stolen. The documents bear Minister Zhao's seal."
The Emperor's eyes darkened. He traced the forged marks with his finger, lips pressed thin. "Zhao… trusted for years. If this is true, he has betrayed me, and the people."
Silence stretched. Yun Xi dared not breathe.
At last, he spoke. "Leave these with me. You have done well. But not a word to anyone—not the court, not the palace. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." Her voice trembled.
He dismissed her, yet unease gnawed at her. If Zhao truly was the serpent, would the Emperor strike swiftly—or would hesitation give the serpent time to coil tighter around the throne?
Back in her quarters, Yun Xi found Mei waiting. The concubine's beauty was as dazzling as ever, her smile sharp.
"You've returned safely," Mei said, pouring tea with hands too graceful to be innocent. "And what secrets have you carried back? Surely you did not risk yourself for nothing."
Yun Xi forced a polite bow. "Merely routine checks of grain stores, Lady Mei."
Mei laughed softly, eyes glinting like obsidian. "Routine? Oh, Scholar Yun, you underestimate me. I can smell secrets, and yours stinks of danger."
She leaned closer, voice honeyed yet laced with threat. "Be careful. Secrets make fine currency in the palace—but also fine nooses."
Yun Xi held her gaze, refusing to flinch. But when Mei glided away, leaving the faint scent of lotus behind, Yun Xi's hands shook around her teacup.
The serpent outside the palace had fangs. But inside, vipers slithered too, waiting for her to stumble.