The Imperial Garden was supposed to be a place of serenity—a mosaic of jade-green ponds, graceful willows bending over winding bridges, and delicate blooms perfuming the air. But on this day, serenity was nowhere to be found. The cicadas hummed like restless whispers, and the sunlight filtering through the latticed pavilion cast uneasy shadows that seemed to stretch too far.
Crown Princess Yue Xian sat beneath the shade of a flowering pear tree, her silk robes pooling around her like a spill of pale moonlight. The court ladies arranged themselves at a respectful distance, fanning her gently, but she hardly noticed. Her gaze was fixed on the koi pond ahead, though her thoughts were far from its placid surface.
The rumors had reached her ears that morning—rumors sharp as daggers.
The Empress Dowager had summoned the Emperor in private at dawn. No one knew what was said, but the palace was already buzzing with speculation. A handful of ministers had been seen leaving the Eastern Hall afterward, their faces grim, as if carrying news that could topple kingdoms.
A rustle of footsteps drew Yue Xian's attention. From between two sculpted hedge arches, her cousin, Lady Wen Zhaoyi, emerged, wearing a smile so carefully constructed it might as well have been painted.
"Cousin," Wen Zhaoyi greeted, dipping into a bow. Her voice was honeyed, but her eyes were calculating, scanning Yue Xian's expression like a gambler reading her opponent's cards.
"Zhaoyi." Yue Xian inclined her head slightly, betraying neither warmth nor hostility. "You've come early today. The lotus blossoms aren't yet in full bloom."
"Lotus blossoms can wait," Wen Zhaoyi replied, stepping closer until the scent of her orchid perfume mingled with the pear blossoms above. "I thought you might enjoy some company. After all…" She let the words hang, her smile deepening. "…these days, it's wise to have allies nearby."
Yue Xian tilted her head, studying her cousin's face. "Allies?" she asked, voice soft. "Or witnesses?"
The smile faltered, just for a heartbeat. Wen Zhaoyi recovered quickly, settling onto the bench beside Yue Xian with the grace of a swan. "You're always so suspicious, cousin. I'm here because I heard a curious thing this morning. One of the kitchen maids claimed that an imperial decree will be announced at tomorrow's court assembly."
The cicadas outside droned louder, as if echoing the tension. Yue Xian kept her eyes on the koi pond, watching a flash of gold ripple through the water. "And what decree might that be?"
Wen Zhaoyi leaned closer, her voice dropping. "A change in the line of succession."
The words hit like a pebble dropped into still water, sending ripples through Yue Xian's composure. She did not turn, but her hand tightened ever so slightly on the edge of her sleeve.
"Rumors are dangerous," Yue Xian said at last.
"True," Wen Zhaoyi agreed, her tone light. "But in the palace, rumors have a way of becoming reality." She rose, smoothing her silk skirt. "I only thought you should know. After all, what are cousins for?"
She glided away, her departing figure framed by the garden arch like a portrait of elegance. But Yue Xian knew better—behind the soft silk and careful smiles, every word had been a move in a game that never stopped.
One of her most trusted attendants, Lian, stepped forward once Wen Zhaoyi was gone. "Your Highness, shall I follow her?"
"No." Yue Xian's eyes were still on the water. "Let her think she's planted a seed. We'll see what grows from it."
But inside, Yue Xian's mind was already racing. A change in succession? Impossible. The Emperor had never given the slightest hint of such a decision. Unless…
Unless the Empress Dowager had found a way.
The thought tightened in her chest.
Far beyond the garden walls, in the quiet corridors of the Eastern Hall, the Empress Dowager sat at her writing desk, a half-burned stick of sandalwood incense curling smoke toward the rafters. Her brush moved steadily over a silk scroll, each stroke deliberate, each word a thread in a web too intricate for any one person to see in full.
When she paused, her gaze drifted to a bronze mirror on the far wall. The reflection staring back was that of a woman whose beauty had faded but whose power remained untouched.
"She thinks she can wait me out," the Empress Dowager murmured to herself. "But I've waited for years. Patience is a weapon she does not yet understand."
A faint knock came at the door.
"Enter," she commanded.
A eunuch stepped inside, bowing low. "Your Majesty, the messenger you summoned awaits in the outer hall."
"Send him in."
Moments later, a man in plain scholar's robes entered, his head bowed respectfully.
"You've confirmed the delivery?" the Empress Dowager asked without preamble.
"Yes, Your Majesty," the man replied. "The letter reached Lord Han before dawn. He will speak at the assembly tomorrow."
"Good." She set the brush aside and folded her hands. "And the… evidence?"
"Safely hidden, as you instructed. Only those who need to know will see it."
A faint smile curved the Empress Dowager's lips. "Then everything is in place."
Back in the garden, Yue Xian finally rose, her attendants trailing behind like shadows. She crossed the stone bridge, her reflection rippling in the pond below. Every step felt heavier than the last, as if the air itself had thickened.
She didn't yet know the shape of the storm, but she could feel it gathering.
And she would be ready.
Because in the Imperial Palace, survival was not about strength alone—it was about knowing when to strike… and when to let your enemies believe they were winning.