Beyond the pavilion, the Emperor walked with measured steps, eunuchs trailing behind at a respectful distance. His face was calm, but within, the whispers of Wei Lan's thoughts still echoed in his mind.
Her doubts. Her caution. Her suspicion of him.
The pendant's bond had given him a window into her soul, and what he found there was unlike any woman of the Inner Court. No petty schemes, no shallow hunger for favor—her mind was disciplined, calculating, sharpened like steel.
And yet… beneath it all, she was still trying to make sense of him.
A faint smile curved his lips. "Wei Lan," he murmured under his breath, too soft for anyone to hear, "you still do not understand me."
But he did not reveal his secret. Let her guard herself, let her question him. He would watch, he would listen, and through her unspoken words, he would know her truer than any court report, any memorial.
The bond was his weapon now.
And he intended to wield it.
Wei Lan sat still on the bed long after he left, her fingers pressed to the faint mark on her neck. Her lips still tingled from his kiss, but her heart was heavy with unease.
Why stop there? she thought bitterly. Every tale, every history I've read, the Emperor always takes what he wants. So why… why not me?
Her hand gripped the around the chest cloth unconsciously. It was silent now, cold hand against her skin, giving no answer to the storm inside her.
Her soldier's instinct whispered that restraint could be more dangerous than desire.
---
In the corridor beyond, the Emperor walked with hands clasped behind his back, his dragon-embroidered robe trailing across polished stone. The eunuchs behind him dared not breathe too loudly, for his silence weighed heavy.
But within, her voice still echoed. Her doubts, her frustration, her suspicion—clearer to him than any words spoken aloud.
A low chuckle escaped him, startling the attendants. "Wei Lan… little phoenix…"
His eyes darkened, gleaming with a heat that was not merely desire but something sharper, deeper. "You truly believe I let you go because I was merciful?"
He paused, turning his gaze toward the direction of her pavilion, as if distance could not separate him from the woman inside.
"No," he whispered, a dangerous tenderness curling in his tone. "I want you whole, unbroken. When I claim you, Wei Lan… it will be when your heart beats for me, not against me."
The words were never spoken aloud to her, but through the bond of the pendant, every shade of his intent lingered dangerously close—like a blade hidden in silk.
And though she did not know it yet, the Son of Heaven had already marked her as his.
The Phoenix Pavilion's main hall was silent save for the scratching of brushes and the soft rustle of robes. At the center, beneath a gilded screen of cranes and clouds, sat Noble Consort Wei Lan.
Before her, the nannies of the six bureaus, the head eunuchs, and the chief stewards of the inner palace were arrayed in neat rows, kneeling with their ledgers and reports. Their eyes flickered upward only when she spoke, for the weight of the Emperor's seal rested on the table at her side.
Wei Lan's brush moved swiftly, her strokes steady and precise. Though her hands were those of a pampered daughter, her discipline was that of a soldier. She read one report, compared it to another, and marked the discrepancies without hesitation.
"Grain reserves," she said evenly, her gaze cutting toward a trembling eunuch. "Why do the figures of the Inner Storehouse differ from those of the Kitchen Bureau? One lists eighty stones of rice, the other fifty-seven. Where have the twenty-three gone?"
The eunuch swallowed hard. "This… this servant will investigate immediately—"
"No," Wei Lan interrupted, her tone sharp yet calm. "I have already traced the flow. Twenty-three stones were moved, unrecorded, into the accounts under Bureau Yi. Am I mistaken?"
Her words fell like a blade. The hall stilled. Several pairs of eyes darted toward those known to be loyal to Consort Yi, whose influence had long ruled unchecked.
Wei Lan set down the brush, her expression unchanging. "From this day forth, no transfer of goods, no adjustment of the budget, shall be made without passing through my hand. The Emperor entrusted me with this authority. You would be wise not to test whether his trust is misplaced."
Silence reigned. Then, as if one body, the stewards, maids, and eunuchs bowed low until their foreheads touched the floor.
"Your orders will be obeyed, Noble Consort."
Wei Lan leaned back slightly, her soldier's instinct reading every flicker of their posture, every hint of disloyalty. She did not need to raise her voice or show temper. Authority, when backed by truth and precision, carried farther than fear.
In the shadows beyond the screen, unseen to all, the Emperor lingered. He watched her work, watched her discipline and calm, and heard the quiet blaze of her thoughts that no one else could know.
Wei Lan's brush tapped lightly against the inkstone, her calm voice breaking the silence.
"Those who falsified accounts, who dared to steal from the Inner Palace—step forward."
The culprits, pale-faced eunuchs and trembling maids, crawled out of the ranks, their foreheads pressed against the cold tiles.
"You thought the harem a place of indulgence, that the Emperor's attention shielded your misdeeds," Wei Lan said, her eyes sharp as steel. "But the palace is a state within the state—its order reflects the Empire itself. If the roots rot, the tree will fall."
At her signal, guards dragged several of the worst offenders away to face punishment. Some were fined, their wealth confiscated to repay the losses. Others were dismissed from service entirely, their names struck from the registers. The hall rang with their wails, but Wei Lan's face remained unreadable.
When order returned, she unfurled a fresh scroll. "From this day forward, each bureau shall be audited monthly. I will not tolerate shadows in my accounts."
She began assigning new managers: steady, overlooked women who had never dared to rise under Consort Yi's oppressive grip. A young stewardess of the Laundry Bureau, long ignored, was suddenly elevated to chief manager. An honest eunuch of the Kitchen Bureau, trembling with gratitude, was given command of the storerooms.
Gasps rippled through the hall. The power balance had shifted in a single morning.
Finally, she turned to the budget. "Excessive spending on silks, spices, and ornaments shall be cut. The Emperor's harem is not a place for waste." Her gaze swept the hall, daring anyone to object. "From now on, each concubine's stipend will match her rank—and no more."
A murmur broke out. Some higher-ranking ladies would see their luxuries reduced. But then Wei Lan added, "The stipends of the lower concubines and palace servants shall be restored in full. No longer will the weak starve while the favored drown in excess."
This time, the murmur was of astonishment. For years, those at the bottom had endured the cruelty of withheld pay and reduced rations, all to fund the excess of Yi's faction. Now, heads bowed deeply, voices rising as one:
"Long live Noble Consort Wei, fair and just!"
Wei Lan's soldier's heart did not soften at the praise. She knew well—loyalty built on gratitude was fragile. Still, in this first session, she had established what kind of ruler she would be: not indulgent, not cruel, but precise, disciplined, and incorruptible.
From the shadows, the Emperor's lips curved faintly. Through their bond, he heard the thought Wei Lan did not voice aloud:
This is only the beginning, Consort Yi. I will dismantle you piece by piece.