The trial was swift. Yun Xi was dragged before the Emperor in the Hall of Supreme Harmony, chains biting her wrists. Court officials lined the hall, their whispers sharp as knives. Zhao stood serene among them, robes pristine, his bow deep, his smile faint.
"Scholar Yun," the Emperor said heavily, "you are accused of forging records and conspiring with enemies of the throne. How do you plead?"
Yun Xi raised her head. "Innocent, Your Majesty. The true traitor stands before you, cloaked in loyalty."
Gasps rippled through the hall. Zhao's smile widened. "Bold words from a criminal. Shall we believe a scribe over decades of service?"
He unfurled a scroll, showing signatures, testimonies, fabricated evidence. The court murmured in agreement.
Yun Xi's heart pounded. This was her end. But then, the Empress entered, her phoenix crown blazing in the morning light.
"Your Majesty," she declared, "before judgment is passed, hear the truth."
She motioned. Mei stepped forward—Mei, radiant and calm, carrying the silk bundle. She bowed and presented it. "These letters bear Zhao's seal. Proof of bribes, theft, treachery. I place them before the throne."
The Emperor's eyes flickered as he read. His face darkened, line by line. The hall grew hushed, suffocating with tension.
Zhao dropped to his knees, protesting. "Forged! Lies spun by jealous women and an ambitious scribe!"
But Liang's dying hand had left his mark on the letters: a smear of blood, sealing them in truth.
The Emperor rose, fury shaking his voice. "Minister Zhao, for crimes of treason and corruption, you are stripped of rank and condemned to death!"
The hall erupted. Guards seized Zhao as he struggled, his mask of calm finally shattered.
Through the chaos, Yun Xi felt her chains fall. The Empress herself unlocked them, her hands steady.
"You played your part well," she murmured. "The phoenix cannot rise without fire."
Later, in the quiet of the gardens, the Emperor summoned Yun Xi. "You risked much," he said gravely. "Too much. Few men would dare what you have done. Tell me—why?"
Yun Xi bowed deeply, her heart heavy. "Because truth is worth the risk, even if it burns me."
The Emperor studied her for a long moment. Then, softly, he said, "Perhaps the Empire needs more men like you… or more women."
His gaze held hers, as though he had glimpsed the secret she carried. But he said no more.
In the Phoenix Hall, the Empress awaited. She poured Yun Xi a cup of tea, her expression unreadable. "The serpent is slain. Yet the game never ends. You know this, don't you?"
Yun Xi nodded slowly. The palace was a nest of endless coils, but she no longer feared them. She had faced the serpent and survived.
And as the sun rose over the golden roofs, casting fire upon the sky, Yun Xi felt a strange certainty: the phoenix had risen—not the Empress's alone, but her own.
For the first time, she allowed herself to breathe, to hope.
The story was not over—but a new one was just beginning.