The Palace of Clear Skies lay silent beneath a fading moon. Lanterns flickered low, and the sound of night drums echoed faintly from the walls three slow beats, marking the deepest hour before dawn.
Inside the Hall of Tranquil Radiance, the Crown Prince Qi knelt before his father. The chamber smelled faintly of sandalwood and parchment. On the lacquered table between them rested a single bowl of medicine its surface gleaming gold under the lamplight.
The Emperor watched his son drink, eyes calm yet sharp, like the edge of a sheathed blade. He was still in half armor, the same breastplate he had worn at the northern campaign. Even without the crown, he carried the weight of command in every breath.
"Your pulse is steady now," the Emperor said softly, his voice carrying both relief and restraint. "The physicians speak well of your recovery."
The Crown Prince bowed his head. "This son owes his life to your Majesty's prayers and to the skill of the imperial alchemist."
The Emperor's gaze drifted to the window lattices, where dawn's first light crept through. "A ruler does not rely on prayers," he murmured. "He relies on truth and the loyalty of those who serve him."
For a heartbeat, silence lingered between them. Then, unexpectedly, the Emperor reached out and straightened the collar of his son's robe a quiet, almost tender gesture.
"You've grown," he said, eyes softening. "When I saw you lying still as marble, I thought the heavens had decided to punish me for past sins."
The Crown Prince's lips curved faintly. "If Heaven were to punish Your Majesty, it would have chosen a greater weapon than me."
A small, rare laugh escaped the Emperor's throat. The candlelight danced across his features, revealing both pride and sorrow.
"Be careful with your wit," he said. "In this palace, even laughter can draw daggers."
The Prince lowered his gaze, understanding the warning beneath the warmth. "Yes, Father."
When the Emperor rose to leave, his shadow fell long against the jade floor the shadow of a man who trusted few and suspected many.
---
Hours later, the Emperor stood before a vast table of scrolls. The soft rustle of silk and paper was the only sound as his scribes departed, leaving him alone beneath the glow of an oil lamp.
Before him lay several sealed letters all marked with the insignia of the northern campaign. Yet one of them bore a faint difference: the wax seal was of a darker hue, the imprint just slightly askew.
He broke it open and read.
The words inside spoke of victory but the phrasing was unfamiliar. Commander Gu Shen never wrote so… floridly. His reports were precise, spare, unadorned.
Something was wrong.
He drew another letter from the chest, one sent weeks earlier, and compared the handwriting. The difference was minute but unmistakable. Someone had forged the Commander's words — and sent them to the throne.
The Emperor's hand curled into a fist.
"Who dares to temper truth beneath my seal?" he whispered.
Moments later, an old eunuch entered at his signal.
"Summon Minister Rong and the Head of Records at dawn," the Emperor ordered. "And no word of this leaves this room. If even a single whisper escapes, heads will fall before sunrise."
The eunuch bowed deeply. "As Your Majesty commands."
When he was gone, the Emperor gazed once more at the forged letters, the lamplight flickering over his face.
"Lies dressed as loyalty…" he murmured. "It begins again."
---
Rain fell over the Gu residence, tracing thin silver threads across the carved eaves. Inside the courtyard, Lady Yue Qin sat before a window, the glow of her lantern reflecting in her eyes.
She turned the phrase over in her mind, remembering her husband's last letter the one bearing the same words. and she get to imagine what will happen to her husband in North where he is and she hasn't hear from him
Then she was praying let her husband come safely
Moments later, a knock echoed from the gate.
"Minister of War requests an audience," a servant whispered.
Yue Qin rose, smoothing her robe, her expression calm though her pulse quickened.
When Minister Rong entered, he bowed with practiced grace.
"Madam Gu, the court worries for you. Commander Gu's valor is beyond question, but his letters…" He paused delicately. "Some have caused unrest."
Yue Qin smiled faintly. "Unrest often comes from the mouths of those who stir it."
Minister Rong's eyes flickered a moment of respect, or warning, she could not tell.
"I hope you will remember, Madam," he said softly, "that silence can protect as well as destroy."
"And yet," Yue Qin replied, "truth always finds its way through silence."
They regarded each other across the tea table two players bound by rules neither could speak aloud. When he left, Yue Qin stood long before the dying lantern flame. Then she took out a thin brush and wrote upon a scrap of silk,
"The serpent hides beneath the scales of the dragon."
She sealed it with wax and handed it to her servant. "To Lady Liu Hua of the Cloud Temple. At once."
---
Far beneath the palace, where the walls smelled of dust and age, a young scribe named Chen Yu unrolled a northern campaign record by lamplight.
He frowned. The official wax seals were mismatched one carried the Emperor's dragon mark, yet the ink beneath had not dried from the same batch.
He lifted the edge and found another layer of parchment beneath it an older report written in a different hand.
Before he could finish reading, the creak of footsteps echoed down the stone hall. He snuffed his lamp and ducked behind the shelves.
Two shadows entered one in the Minister's robes, the other masked. Their whispers were low, hurried.
"The Emperor grows suspicious."
"Then the phoenix must burn before she sings."
Chen Yu's breath caught. Phoenix a word used only in court gossip for noble women of high favor. They were speaking of Lady Yue Qin.
When they left, he emerged, trembling. The scroll in his hands seemed to pulse with danger. He pressed it to his chest. "Heaven help us," he whispered. "The truth has already been buried once."
---
Morning broke crimson over the Vermilion Roofs. The Emperor stood before the palace gate, hands clasped behind his back.
The capital was still quiet, but the air smelled of rain and iron the scent that always came before storms.
Behind him, the eunuch approached.
"Your Majesty, the court awaits the morning assembly."
The Emperor nodded, his gaze fixed northward. "Let them wait."
He lifted his head, eyes shadowed beneath the golden crown.
"If even the letters lie," he murmured, "then who in this empire still speaks the truth?"
The bell of morning tolled, solemn and endless, as if echoing his doubt through every hall of the imperial city.