I did not know how long we had traveled before the sedan finally came to a stop.
From outside the curtain came the gentle, respectful voice of a palace maid: "Young Master Su, we have arrived at the Phoenix Perch Palace. Please disembark."
Aunt Qin helped me out of the sedan. A biting gust of cold wind rushed toward me, and I instinctively wrapped my cloak tighter as I lifted my gaze.
The three gilded characters "Phoenix Perch Palace" gleamed with a cold brilliance beneath the winter sun. The palace complex was grand and imposing in scale, yet not ostentatious; instead, it exuded a settled, aloof majesty. Palace attendants stood on either side, heads lowered, eyes averted, their posture so respectful it was nearly rigid. Not a single extraneous sound could be heard.
I was led to the eastern side hall. Inside, it was warm as spring. The underfloor heating was lit just right, and the air was filled with a clean, elegant fragrance of cold plum blossoms rather than the usual heavy dragon's saliva incense. The furnishings were understated yet luxurious: the display shelves held mostly books and antique curios, and by the window stood a broad rosewood desk, fully equipped with the Four Treasures of the Study. In the sleeping chamber, gauze curtains hung lightly, scented with calming medicinal herbs. Every detail fit seamlessly with my habits and preferences, as if someone had long observed my life down to the smallest detail and recreated it here—only more exquisite, and far more enclosed.
"Young Master, please rest for now. Once Her Majesty finishes attending to state affairs, she will come to see you." The supervising palace maid spoke softly, bowed, and withdrew quietly.
Only Aunt Qin, Chunyu, and I remained in the hall. Silence reigned, broken only by the occasional soft crackle of burning charcoal.
I walked to the window and pushed it open a narrow crack. Cold wind poured in, carrying the scent of plum blossoms, and also revealed the scene outside—beyond the courtyard wall, at the distant turn of a covered corridor, the silent figures of armored guards could be faintly seen standing watch. They did not approach this side hall, yet they were like an invisible wall of iron, isolating this place from the rest of the world.
This was not protection. It was surveillance—clearer and more severe than at the Prime Minister's residence.
Aunt Qin let out a soundless sigh and stepped forward to close the window slightly. "Young Master, the wind is strong. Mind your health."
I retreated to the couch and sat down, my fingertips icy cold. This resplendent palace—every inch of it radiated meticulous calculation and control. That supreme figure had yet to appear, yet her will was already everywhere.
The waiting stretched unbearably long. I tried to read, but the words blurred before my eyes. I thought to move about, yet my limbs felt heavy and powerless. The tight pain in my chest and the itch in my throat, in this extreme silence and tension, seemed to stir once more.
Only when dusk fell and palace lanterns lit one after another did movement finally come from outside the hall.
There was no clamor—only synchronized, subdued greetings, and a steady, rhythmic set of footsteps drawing nearer, until they stopped outside the hall doors.
The doors opened soundlessly.
She walked in.
Dressed in a black robe embroidered with golden dragons, simpler than the ceremonial attire of the enthronement yet all the more flattering to her tall, upright bearing. The lines of her shoulders and back, revealed under the lamplight, carried a supple strength. Her long hair was bound with a simple mutton-fat jade hairpin. Her complexion, illuminated by the palace lamps, was still somewhat pale, but the former dullness was gone, replaced by the restrained authority of one who now held power.
Most arresting were her eyes. When her gaze fell upon me, I could almost feel its tangible weight. This was no longer the fervor beneath the night sky of the plum garden, nor the stunned obsession from glimpsing her dance on a rainy night, nor even the cool calculation of our final secret correspondence. It was a silence mixed with far too many things, unfathomably deep—detachment after wading through seas of blood and mountains of corpses; a faint, almost imperceptible fatigue and release after finally achieving her ambition; unmistakable relief and possession at seeing me here. But at its deepest was a calm so absolute it was nearly cruel—a sense of control, as if I were already a treasure firmly held in her palm, never to be lost, or perhaps… a possession that could not resist.
She lifted her hand. All the palace attendants, including Aunt Qin and Chunyu, withdrew swiftly and silently, closing the doors behind them.
In the vast hall, only the two of us remained, along with the flickering candlelight.
She walked toward me step by step, stopping not far away. Her dark robes carried the chill of the light snow outside, along with the unique scent of the imperial study—a mingling of ink and authority.
"Yuzhi," she said. Her voice was lower and steadier than I remembered, carrying a faint rasp, yet clear as jade striking stone. "Are you accustomed to this place?"
I rose and attempted to bow in proper etiquette, my movements slow from long illness. "I pay my respects to Your Maj—"
"No need." She did not step forward to support me, merely lifted her hand slightly. That invisible pressure belonging to an emperor made it impossible for me to bend further. "There are no outsiders here. No need for formalities."
I straightened and lowered my gaze. "Thank you, Your Majesty. This place… is very good."
"Very good?" She repeated softly, then suddenly stepped forward, the distance closing at once. Her cool fingers lifted and brushed across my cheek, the motion light yet carrying an unmistakable force that brooked no refusal. "Your complexion is still so poor. Has the imperial physician examined you?"
Her fingertips paused at my jaw, pressing slightly, forcing me to raise my head and meet her bottomless gaze.
"Yes. I've been seen. Aunt Qin has also been administering medicine all along." I tried to keep my voice steady.
"Mmm." She answered, her eyes never leaving my face, examining me inch by inch as if checking whether a long-lost treasure had suffered any damage. "It's warmer here than the Prime Minister's residence, and the medicinal supplies are complete. I've already given orders—whenever needed, the best physicians of the Imperial Medical Bureau will be at your disposal. Just stay here in peace and focus on recovering."
Her tone was gentle, even considerate, yet every word was an unarguable arrangement.
"Your Majesty's duties are heavy. There is no need to trouble yourself over Yuzhi like this," I said softly.
"Taking care of you is only right." She withdrew her hand and clasped it behind her back, her gaze slowly sweeping over the hall's furnishings like a ruler inspecting her territory. "Do you remember that night in the plum garden? I said that once I had cleansed the realm, I would come to welcome you. Now, I am here."
My heart clenched hard. Cleanse the realm… by such means?
"This place is very safe." As if sensing my momentary stiffness, her voice softened further, yet carried even greater authority. "The Phoenix Perch Palace is mine. Without my permission, not even an extra bird can enter. Just rest assured. If you grow bored, there is a plum grove in the rear garden. When you feel better, I will accompany you to view it. If you lack anything or want anything, tell the palace attendants, or have Aunt Qin relay it to me."
She paused, her gaze settling on my face again. Beneath that calm lay abyssal control. "Only—there are many rules within the palace. To avoid unnecessary conflicts and trouble, unless accompanied by me or someone I designate, do not leave the bounds of the Phoenix Perch Palace at will. Your body cannot withstand exertion either, can it?"
The final sentence, though phrased as a question, carried no intent to ask. It was a gentle warning, and also a clear prohibition.
Vermilion walls ran deep; the chains were invisible, yet they had already fallen solidly into place.
"Yes." I heard my own dry voice answer. "Yuzhi… understands."
She seemed satisfied with my compliance. The corners of her lips lifted almost imperceptibly, the smile faint and fleeting. For a brief moment, the deep sense of control in her eyes receded, revealing a trace of genuine, nearly weary tenderness belonging to "Xiao Yuhuang."
"Don't be afraid, Yuzhi." She spoke again in a low voice, this time carrying a strange note of a sigh. "I told you—you are mine. Here, no one can hurt you again, and no one will dare set their sights on you. You only need to live well, and stay by my side."
Her fingers lifted once more, this time brushing lightly across my brow, with a near-cherishing intent that nonetheless sent a chill down my spine.
"Your Majesty's affairs are weighty. Yuzhi would not dare disturb you," I said, lowering my lashes to avoid her overly intent gaze.
"No matter how busy I am, I will always have time to see you." She withdrew her hand, resuming the posture of an emperor. "You're tired today as well. Rest early. I'll come see you again tomorrow."
She turned, the hem of her dark robes sweeping across the polished floor as she walked toward the doors. She paused briefly at the threshold, did not look back, and left only one sentence behind. "If you feel unwell at night, have someone report to the imperial study at once. I… am not far away."
The doors opened and closed. She left behind authority, chill, and a trace of something strangely gentle.
I stood there, unmoving for a long time, until Aunt Qin and Chunyu quietly returned.
"Young Master," Aunt Qin stepped forward to help me sit, handing me a cup of hot tea. She said softly, "Her Majesty… truly treats you differently."
Differently? Yes—supreme favor, supreme control, supreme… imprisonment.
I lifted the teacup, yet the warmth of the tea could not dispel the chill spreading from the depths of my soul.
Night fell completely. Snow seemed to begin again. Outside the window lay a silent expanse of white, reflecting the dim yellow glow of palace lanterns.
I lay upon the bed, soft to the point of discomfort, staring wide-eyed at the intricate yet unfamiliar embroidery on the canopy above.
The vow in the plum garden, in the face of the truth behind the former sovereign's death and this gentle yet forceful captivity, now seemed so pale and ironic.
I closed my eyes and pressed the warm phoenix-carved jade pendant tightly against my chest. Did it still carry her body warmth? Or had it long since been soaked through with the cold of imperial power and blood?