The Phoenix Hall was quiet when Yun Xi entered. The Empress sat at her embroidery frame, golden thread glinting beneath her needle. She did not look up, yet her voice carried steel.
"You were attacked."
Yun Xi bowed deeply. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"By Zhao's men."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The Empress finally looked at her, eyes sharp as a hawk's. "And still the Emperor waits."
Yun Xi hesitated. "He seeks undeniable proof—"
"Proof?" The Empress's laugh was soft, bitter. "Men die while His Majesty demands proof. The palace rots while Zhao fattens on its marrow. Proof is nothing but a veil for fear."
She set aside her embroidery, leaning closer. "Listen well, Scholar Yun. If the Son of Heaven falters, then the Phoenix must act."
The words stunned Yun Xi. "Your Majesty… you mean—"
"Yes," the Empress said coldly. "I will move against Zhao myself. But I need hands and eyes beyond suspicion. That is where you come in."
Yun Xi's pulse quickened. "What would you have me do?"
The Empress unfurled a scroll, revealing a list of names: generals, magistrates, censors. "These are men Zhao has bribed. If we can turn even one, his foundation cracks. Find them. Persuade them. Expose them."
Yun Xi stared at the names, feeling the weight of destiny press down. She was a scribe, not a warrior—yet here she stood, asked to play spy, conspirator, traitor or patriot.
The Empress's gaze softened briefly. "You think yourself a pawn. But pawns who reach the end of the board become queens. Do not forget that."
That night, Yun Xi began her dangerous work. She sought quiet conversations in libraries, chance encounters in gardens, subtle questions posed over scrolls. Some officials dismissed her. Others smiled too eagerly, eager to please Zhao's ally.
But one—a young censor named Liang—hesitated when she mentioned Zhao's grain shipments. His eyes flickered, his voice dropped. "I cannot speak… not here."
He pressed a sealed note into her palm. "Meet me at dawn, outside the Hall of Records."
Yun Xi tucked the note away, heart racing. A crack in Zhao's armor. Perhaps the Empress's gamble could succeed.
As she returned to her chamber, she noticed movement by her door: a folded slip of paper pinned with a dagger. Her blood ran cold.
In bold, elegant strokes, it read:
"The serpent sees you. Stop, or be swallowed whole."
The dagger gleamed in the candlelight, its edge sharp enough to slice the future itself.
Yun Xi crushed the note in her fist. Her choice was made. She would not stop. She would not cower.
If the serpent saw her, then let it watch as she set fire to its nest.