On the third day of Shen Zhaoyi's confinement,
the harem looked calm.
Too calm.
And Qing Tian knew—
the deadliest blades in the palace never flashed at night.
They fell in daylight.
Wrapped in etiquette.
Hidden inside rules.
Delivered when everyone could claim they were acting properly.
Early that morning, Chun Tao had just secured the last jade hairpin when Xiao Lizi hurried in, breath uneven, face drained of color.
"Director… invitations."
Qing Tian's hand paused midair.
"…From whom?"
"All six palaces."
"De Consort. Xian Consort. Shu Consort. Rong Consort. Hui Consort… and a senior matron from the Empress Dowager's residence."
Silence.
Six palaces.
Not one missing.
Such a formation had never occurred before.
This was not courtesy.
Not greetings.
Not a social visit.
This was a collective siege.
Qing Tian lowered the hairpin.
Her voice did not waver.
"Reply."
"Tell them: At noon, in the main hall of the Bureau of Provisions—Qing Tian will receive their honors."
The Bureau of Provisions — Main Hall
A boundary space.
Halfway between court and harem.
A place where protocol was law, and every word could become evidence.
Before noon arrived, the hall was already filled.
De Consort sat composed, eyes unreadable.Xian Consort watched with measured caution.Shu Consort smiled—though the warmth never reached her eyes.Those of lower rank held themselves rigid, tension written plainly across their faces.
From the Empress Dowager's side came only one matron.
Yet the moment she sat, the others instinctively shifted aside—
granting her space.
Granting her authority.
Granting her fear.
Everyone understood:
She was not merely a matron.
She was the Empress Dowager's shadow.
Qing Tian entered in her Director's robes.
No jewels.
No excess.
Only austere clarity.
She bowed.
"Qing Tian greets Your Highnesses."
No one told her to rise.
The air turned still.
Heavy.
Unforgiving.
At last, Shu Consort spoke, voice light, words sharpened.
"Director Qing."
"We hear that you recently forced open a granary, broke official seals, and disturbed the Department of Internal Affairs?"
There it was.
The first strike.
Qing Tian did not hesitate.
"It is true."
A ripple of surprise moved through the hall.
Even De Consort lifted her gaze.
No denial.
No excuse.
"But," Qing Tian continued evenly,
"it was within my authority."
A brow arched.
Xian Consort leaned slightly forward.
"Oh?"
Qing Tian's voice rang clear.
"Clause Three of the Director of Provisions' duties."
"If irregular shortages, falsified reports, or suspected depletion threaten palace food supply, the Director may initiate immediate inspection and sealing, with documentation submitted thereafter."
She paused.
"This clause exists in the Internal Archives."
"Approved by the Late Emperor, Year Thirty-Seven."
Chun Tao stepped forward, presenting the scroll.
Not Qing Tian's handwriting.
Not a copied text.
But the original imperial endorsement—
bearing the Late Emperor's vermilion seal.
For the first time,
the matron from the Empress Dowager's palace stiffened.
Her expression changed.
Hui Consort's voice trembled with anger.
"But you investigated the Buddhist Hall's offerings!"
"Those are sacred provisions!"
Qing Tian finally raised her eyes.
And met hers.
"Precisely because they are sacred."
"They must not be hollowed out."
Her tone was soft.
But every word cut clean.
"Offerings should be the purest grain in the palace."
"Yet that night, the granary held not a single grain of rice."
Shock.
Whispers.
Sharp intakes of breath.
This was no longer corruption.
This was desecration.
The Empress Dowager's matron rose abruptly.
"You dare slander the Empress Dowager?!"
Qing Tian did not retreat.
Instead—
she stepped forward.
Standing alone at the center of the hall.
"If it is slander," she said calmly,
"I request the Empress Dowager conduct a renewed investigation."
A single sentence.
And suddenly—
the blade had changed hands.
The hall fell silent.
Because everyone understood what Qing Tian had done.
She had not defended herself.
She had forced a choice.
Either acknowledge the accounts.
Or reopen scrutiny over every offering under the Empress Dowager's name.
A storm no one in the harem wished to unleash.
Time stretched.
Breaths held.
Then—
De Consort gently set down her teacup.
"This matter should not be handled rashly."
"Director Qing acts under imperial mandate to rectify provisions."
"Inspection, therefore, is justified."
She turned toward Qing Tian.
Her gaze deep with implication.
"However…"
"You must also understand."
"A tall tree draws the wind."
A warning.
A reminder.
A veiled threat.
Qing Tian bowed respectfully.
"I understand."
"That is precisely why I cannot step back."
She lifted her head.
Eyes steady.
"If I retreat today…"
"Tomorrow it will not be only grain that disappears."
No one spoke again.
Because no one could refute her.
This round—
the Six Palaces had failed.
Unseen — Empress Dowager's Palace
A porcelain teacup shattered violently against the floor.
Fragments scattered like frozen sparks.
"So."
The Empress Dowager's voice was low.
Dangerously quiet.
"That Director Qing…"
"…is not afraid of death."
The lantern flames trembled.
Shadows swayed.
Then—
slowly—
the Empress Dowager smiled.
Cold.
Measured.
Lethal.
"If that is the case…"
"…let her witness what the harem truly is."
And somewhere deep within the palace,
the war shifted—
from hidden currents
to open tides.