The gardens of Baishen Palace stirred in the late morning light, where the air smelled of white hibiscus and sandalwood. The carved marble paths glistened from the light mist that settled overnight, and jade cranes stood tall in the koi ponds, their reflections broken only by the lazy ripple of fish beneath the surface. At the heart of the gardens stood a pavilion of red lacquered wood, its ceiling painted with phoenixes trailing gold across the panels, their wings spread in eternal flight. There, two women met beneath the shadow of the roof, surrounded by silence that no birds dared disturb.
Meiyin, stood dressed in violet and crimson silk, her sleeves embroidered with the crest of House Baishen, beside was Yanmei. Her eyes gleamed as she stepped aside for the rolling wheels that approached across the stones.
Lady Xuelian, sat unmoving upon her lacquered chair, her body wrapped in white and pale gold. Her eyes were hard, though her lips remained soft. Madam Chen, her oldest attendant, pushed the chair forward in silence, her own back slightly bent with age but her hands steady on the handles.
Meiyin bowed, low and graceful.
"My lady," she said, her voice light as if blown in from a song, "the gardens are fragrant this morning. It is a blessing to see you well."
Xuelian regarded her with the same patience she would afford a pond snake. Her fingers, once sharp enough to pluck out a ruler's eye with a hairpin, now lay folded across her lap, unmoving.
"What do you want, Meiyin?"
Meiyin smiled. "To bring you news. I heard it from a very reliable source." She leaned in as if sharing a secret. "The boy. Your son. He is returning to the capital. Soon, in fact. The priests have already gone to fetch him."
A long silence followed.
Xuelian blinked once, and Madam Chen's grip on the wheelchair tightened.
"You lie," Xuelian said, her voice cold.
Meiyin tilted her head. "Would I dare, my lady? His Churning is nearly upon us, after all. I would never forget such an important day. I merely assumed you were already informed."
Xuelian's face betrayed nothing. Her paralysis had made it easy to hide her thoughts. But her voice, steady as fire beneath stone, burned through the perfumed air.
"Do not come here to play games, Meiyin. You may be younger, and you may still walk upright, but I remain Queen Of Yanhuang, First Wife of this house. I am still the mother of the heir, and I do not take kindly to whispers spoken in silk."
Meiyin's smile flickered, just for a moment, but she bowed once more. "Forgive me, my lady. I only wished to prepare you."
She turned and walked away, her dress trailing behind her like blood spilled over stone.
Xuelian sat still, her eyes fixed on the trees.
"Madam Chen," she said.
"Yes, my lady?"
"Prepare a message for the king. I wish to speak to him." she said impatiently, and with fear in her eyes
Meanwhile, far from the gardens, Baishen Lanyue's alchemy chamber sat tucked in the west wing of the palace, hidden behind bamboo screens and shelves stacked with porcelain jars. The scent of dried herbs, boiled lotus root, and burnt ginseng filled the air. Glass vials bubbled softly over low flames, and a scroll lay open on the center table, filled with elegant writing and diagrams of human organs painted in red ink.
Lanyue stood by the window, her hands stained with powder, her robes tied high to keep her sleeves from falling into the tinctures. She was beautiful in a quiet, unbothered way. Hair pinned back with silver combs, face untouched by rouge or perfume. She was not born of the wives, her mother was concubine Xiuyin, who was once an escort, even with having a mother with such a background, yet she had earned respect not through birthright, but brilliance.
The door creaked.
"Lanyue," called a familiar voice.
She turned to see Baishen Huowen enter first, shirtless as always when training. Sweat clung to his body, his lean muscles gleaming like bronze under the sunlight. Behind him came Baishen Huali, in a training robe and high boots, her hair tied back in a knot like a blade drawn from its sheath. Last were Baishen Lieyan and Hongjian, sons of Meiyin, both dressed neatly in red and gold.
Lanyue smirked.
"What would all of you be doing here, together, without your mothers?"
"Escaping them," Huowen said, walking in as though the chamber belonged to him.
Lieyan laughed and poured himself tea without asking. "They still think we hate each other."
"And we will let them," Huali muttered, folding her arms.
The room filled with warmth, not from the boiling vials but from the rare peace among them. They spoke of small things at first. The stiffness of the palace walls. The taste of the new cook's soup. A foolish noble who had fallen off a horse trying to impress the marquis's daughter.
Then the subject changed.
"Have you all heard?" Huali asked, her voice sharper than before. "That thing is returning. The boy from the shrine."
Lanyue set down her pestle slowly. "Qigai?"
"Do not say his name," Huali snapped. "He is not one of us. He is a curse that should have been drowned before he could draw breath."
Hongjian glanced at Lieyan. "Remeber, our mother told us.."
"He will be dead soon," Huali said. "Unless the god of fire is a fool. Which I doubt."
Huowen frowned. "Your hatred for him impress my, I mean you kept that hatred for like fifteen years over a boy you haven't spoken to"
Huali stood up, her eyes flashing. "I have seen him though and trust me once you see that creature you'll hate him too and plus he is the reason our mother cannot walk."
No one answered. The silence lasted a long while.
Then Lanyue returned to grinding her herbs. The others looked away, one by one and began talking of other things, such as potential suitors their mother wanted them to marry.
Elsewhere, the king stood alone in the Hall of Flame, gazing up at the great bronze statue of Huoshen. The pillars around him burned with oil flames that never died, and behind him came the sound of wheels.
"Xuelian," he said without turning.
"My king," she replied.
Rongxu turned to face his queen, her figure regal even in her chair.
"You wished to speak."
"I did. It is about the boy."
His eyes darkened.
"I heard he is to return soon," she continued, "and I understand your intent is to house him here. I ask you to reconsider, and house him elsewhere."
"Send him where?"
"The temple. In the center of the capital. It is holy ground. The Churning will take place there, and it is fitting that he prepare in the presence of god."
The king did not speak at first.
"You still fear him," he said.
"I fear what will happen if we forget what he is."
At last, the king nodded once.
"Very well. He shall stay at the central temple. But he is still my son."
Xuelian's face did not change. But behind her, Madam Chen allowed herself the smallest sigh of relief.