Chapter 19
The Red Petal's Shadow
The Morning After the Feast
The palace woke to a quiet so sharp it tasted like metal.
Servants walked faster.
Eunuchs bowed lower.
Concubines kept their curtains drawn.
The storm had passed, yet its ghost still clung to the corridors like a second skin.
In the Hall of Eternal Radiance, Zhao Long read petitions with the crushing heaviness of someone who no longer trusted ink.
His ministers knelt in perfect rows, heads bowed, expressions glazed with fear or calculation it was hard to tell the difference these days.
As each petition was read aloud, a single thought repeated in the Emperor's mind:
How many of these words were bought? How many were forged? How many are traps wrapped in courtesy?
Every sentence felt like a needle pricking the edges of order.
Something was slipping.
And he could not yet tell whose hands were pulling the threads.
The Dowager's Whispered Summons
At midmorning, an eunuch approached Ruyi while she was reviewing the rescued ledger Chen'er had found.
He knelt deeply.
"Your Grace… the Empress Dowager requests your presence."
Chen'er stiffened.
"Now? Without ceremony?"
The eunuch swallowed. "Now."
Ruyi rose slowly, smoothing her silver-grey sleeve.
"The Dowager never summons without reason," she murmured.
"And reason never comes without a blade."
Chen'er bowed. "Should I accompany?"
"No." Ruyi's voice was gentle, but firm. "If she means to test me, I must go alone."
She stepped out into the quiet corridor, the echo of her footsteps indistinguishable from the heartbeat of a palace that seemed to hold its breath.
/The Dowager's Gaze/
The Empress Dowager sat beneath a hanging scroll of wild cranes, her posture as regal as the jade phoenix hairpin anchoring her white-streaked hair.
"Come forward," she said.
Ruyi did.
The Dowager studied her carefully too carefully.
"Consort Ruyi," she said at last. "You have grown confident."
Ruyi bowed. "Confidence and survival often walk together."
A faint smile touched the Dowager's lips.
"But confidence invites enemies. And you have gathered more than most."
Ruyi didn't answer. Silence was safer.
The Dowager lifted a folded cloth from her sleeve.
Inside it lay the same petal Ruyi had found in the ancestral library.
"Do you recognize this?" the Dowager asked softly.
Ruyi's pulse tightened but she did not look away.
"Yes."
"How did it come into your possession?"
"I tracked false ledgers," Ruyi replied. "The petal was hidden among them."
The Dowager leaned back, eyes narrowing with an unreadable mix of curiosity and calculation.
"I see. Then hear me well, child."
Her voice dropped to a whisper:
"The Red Lotus does not send warnings. Only promises."
Ruyi's breath stilled.
"They're inside the palace?"
"They always have been."
The Dowager rose, the weight of years falling away with every step.
"You're sharp, girl. Sharper than the rest of them. But do not forget this: women in the harem are the first pawns removed from the board."
Her gaze hardened.
"Unless they choose to become the hand that moves the pieces."
A wind blew through the window lattice at that moment and for a heartbeat, the Dowager's shadow seemed far larger than her body.
/The Emperor and the Empty Scroll/
That evening, Zhao Long found an unmarked scroll on his desk.
No seal.
No ink.
Completely blank.
He frowned. "Who brought this?"
A eunuch shook his head. "We do not know, Your Majesty. It was already there when we arrived."
Zhao Long unrolled it again.
Still blank.
Until a droplet of candle wax fell across the parchment.
Then slowly like a bruise appearing red lines bled across the surface, forming a single phrase
Your twin bleeds.
Your shadow feeds.
His heart seized.
Twin.
Shadow.
The dream from the storm nights returned in a flash two banners merging in sandstorm winds.
When the dragon forgets its twin…
Zhao Long stood abruptly.
"Summon the Imperial Guard Captain. Quietly."
Something was spiraling faster than he could chase.
/Ruyi's Return/
When Ruyi returned from the Dowager's palace, she found her chamber unusually silent.
Chen'er was waiting by the door, pale.
"Your Grace," she whispered, "someone entered your room."
Ruyi's eyes narrowed.
"What did they touch?"
"Your desk… your inkstone… the ledger." She swallowed. "And your pillow."
Ruyi froze.
Her heart didn't race it slowed.
"Did they leave anything?"
Chen'er lifted a small folded paper from her sleeve, gripping it as if it burned.
Ruyi took it.
Inside was a single phrase, written in the same faint metallic ink as the forged letters:
When the lotus blooms twice, one must die.
Ruyi closed the paper.
Her face remained calm.
Only her hand tightened imperceptibly.
"Chen'er," she said softly, "fetch cold water. Then burn this."
"Cold water?" Chen'er frowned. "Why?"
Ruyi's voice was steady as winter.
"Because someone wants us rattled. Panic is their smoke. Calm is our knife."
/TheEmperorArrivesUnexpectedly/
Not long after the note burned to ash, a guard announced:
"His Majesty approaches."
Chen'er nearly dropped the basin.
Zhao Long swept in, robes damp from the misty evening, tension coiled in every line of his posture.
"Ruyi."
She bowed. "Your Majesty."
"We need to speak," he said.
She raised her gaze to his.
"I assumed so. Your eyes have been stormed since noon."
He exhaled sharply half frustration, half relief.
"You notice everything."
"It keeps me alive."
He hesitated, then stepped closer.
"Someone is weaving lies into the pillars of my palace. They want me blind."
"And someone wants me afraid," Ruyi replied. "They want me to be reactive."
Silence thickened between them.
Two storms meeting.
The Emperor leaned in slightly.
"Ruyi… are you afraid?"
Her eyes held his steady, deep, dark as rain-washed ink.
"No," she whispered. "Fear belongs to those who don't expect the knife."
"And you expect it?"
"Every day."
Zhao Long's hand curled at his side.
A strange look crossed his face, half admiration, half something softer.
"Then," he said softly, "walk beside me. Not behind."
Something in Ruyi's chest tightened unexpected, unwelcome, and undeniable.
She bowed her head.
"As you command."
But the lantern light behind her flickered, casting her shadow long across the floor.
The Emperor saw it.
And for an instant, it looked as though the shadow bowed slower than she did.
Far across the palace, in a candlelit room thick with incense, Consort Mei opened a small lacquer box.
Inside lay seven pressed lotus petals.
One was missing.
She smiled.
"Good," she whispered. "She's found the first."
And with delicate, poisonous calm, she placed the next petal onto a map of the empire over the capital itself.