Whispers of Jealousy
The palace had learned her name.
It passed through corridors in half-spoken fragments, carried by servants and officials alike—never loud enough to be accusation, never quiet enough to fade. Yang Yuhuan did not hear most of it directly, yet she felt its presence in the way conversations paused when she entered a room, in the sudden politeness of those who once ignored her.
Jealousy, she discovered, did not announce itself.
It smiled.
Lady Chen, one of the senior consorts, observed Yuhuan from behind her painted fan during a court banquet. Her expression was pleasant, her eyes calculating. She had survived the palace by understanding its rhythms, and those rhythms had shifted.
"The emperor's favor is a dangerous gift," Lady Chen said lightly when Yuhuan passed her. "One should wear it carefully."
Yuhuan bowed, offering a respectful reply, though her heart tightened. "Your guidance is appreciated."
Nearby, Minister Zhang watched both women with equal interest. Patterns were forming now—subtle, but unmistakable. Favor bred resentment. Resentment sought opportunity.
That opportunity arrived in the form of rumor.
It began as a whisper that Yuhuan had overstepped her religious role, that her presence in the inner palace exceeded what devotion required. No accusation was spoken outright, yet the suggestion alone was enough to stir unease.
Xuanzong heard of it by the third day.
He dismissed the report with a wave of his hand, but his jaw tightened. He had ruled long enough to know that rumors were weapons sharpened slowly.
That night, he summoned Yuhuan—not in secrecy, but in formality. The public nature of the summons was itself a shield.
"Do not fear what you hear," he told her when they were alone. "Fear only what is left unanswered."
Yuhuan met his gaze steadily. "Then allow me to endure it in silence."
His expression softened, though concern remained. "Silence protects you only until it does not."
Elsewhere in the palace, Prince Li Mao learned of the rumors through careful wording and sympathetic glances. He said nothing, but the ache he carried deepened into something harder, more brittle.
Jealousy, once stirred, did not rest.
It waited.
And within the palace, unseen forces were already preparing to test how far the emperor's protection—and Yuhuan's resolve—could truly reach.