The Poisoned Gift
The morning after the Festival of Masks, a small package arrived at Lianhua's quarters. Its wrapping was delicate, embroidered with gold thread, and it carried no sender's name. A chill ran down her spine—gifts in the palace were rarely innocent, especially for someone marked by both the Dowager and the Emperor.
She opened it carefully. Inside was a box of rare sweets, perfumed and exquisite. The first thought that crossed her mind was caution: every item in the palace could be weaponized. She examined the sweets, noting subtle discoloration and unusual scent, signs of tampering.
A soft knock interrupted her inspection. It was Mei Lin. "Be careful," she whispered. "Gifts like this are rarely kind. The Dowager tests loyalty and observation, and sometimes… she tests survival."
Lianhua nodded, hiding her unease. She poured a few drops into a basin of water, watching them dissolve. No reaction. Still, she would not eat. Not yet. Survival depended on patience.
Later that day, the Dowager appeared in the courtyard, her eyes sharp as winter frost. She stopped in front of Lianhua, lips curving slightly.
"You are clever," the Dowager said softly. "Clever enough to see danger before it strikes. Remember this: those who accept gifts without thought often learn their lesson too late. You… survive because you observe."
Lianhua bowed. "Your wisdom guides me, Your Majesty."
The Dowager's gaze lingered a moment longer. "Keep your mind sharp, Shen Lianhua. Even the Emperor's favor cannot shield you from carelessness. The palace does not forgive mistakes made from greed or trust misplaced."
Dismissed, Lianhua returned to her quarters and placed the box of sweets in a hidden cabinet. She had survived the first test of subtle poison—not by luck, but by observation and restraint.
That night, she whispered her vow once more:
I will trust no gift without thought.
I will observe all shadows and intentions.
And when the moment comes, I will turn every threat into advantage.
The palace was full of danger.
But Shen Lianhua had learned how to survive—and strike—without revealing herself.