Daita strolled down the quiet palace hallway, biting lazily into a crisp apple, His robe was slightly undone at the collar, his pace unhurried until, without warning, an arm snatched him by the front and yanked him sharply to the side.
He hit the wall with a muted thud, more surprised than startled.
His eyes flicked up.
Standing before him, pinning him in place, was a woman in dark crimson robes, her expression furious, her grip unyielding. She wore the insignia of the the Chief of Inner Court Discipline, a high-ranking official.
Daita tilted his head, a slow smirk curling on his lips. "…What are you doing?" he drawled in a whisper, his voice low, teasing. "You do realize it's quite rude to corner someone like this. Imagine what would happen if someone caught you pressing the Seventh Prince to a wall."
He leaned in slightly, the half-eaten apple still in hand. "The consequences would be… difficult to imagine."
"Let them," she hissed, her breath hot with restrained fury. "I don't care. Even if it earns me a death sentence. if I could just win a place in your heart—"
She raised a hand, almost trembling as she reached to touch his face.
But in the blink of an eye, Daita moved.
The apple dropped with a soft thud to the floor.
Now she was against the wall, his hand pinning her wrist above her head, the other resting lightly at her waist—not firm, but close enough to keep her still. Their positions reversed in a flash of effortless motion.
He leaned close, eyes gleaming. "Tsk. You almost touched me," he murmured.
She stared up at him, breath shallow, caught between the fading fire of defiance and something more vulnerable—something she refused to name. Her voice was a low murmur.
"Seventh Prince… it's you doing it now. What if someone catches you grabbing the Chief of Inner Court Discipline?" Her gaze sharpened. "And the daughter of the Southern Commander no less. What would be the consequences then?"
Daita's smirk only deepened. He stepped back with deliberate ease, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve.
"If someone catches us," he said, voice like silk, "I don't think you'd want to deny the rumors." He gestured casually to the corridor they stood in. "Especially when you're the one creating them like this."
Her breath caught.
Before she could respond, there was a sudden scuffle.
From behind a screen down the hallway, a young palace maid stumbled out and immediately dropped to her knees, trembling.
"Your Highness, forgive me!" she cried, forehead touching the floor. "I—I was only doing what she told me!"
Daita raised an eyebrow, glancing between the maid and the woman beside him.
"What she told you to?" he asked, voice low with interest.
The maid's voice quivered. "She said to… watch closely, and make sure you two had… private moments and connections. And spread rumours so that people would speak of it…"
"Would never what?" Daita interrupted smoothly, his gaze unreadable. "Involve servants in your schemes? Or plant a scandal just to get what you want?"
She opened her mouth to defend herself—then stopped, realizing the trap in his words.
Daita leaned in, his breath brushing her ear, voice low and velvety.
"Didn't you want to be my Shìfēi?" he murmured. "Not just the one of the Inner Court high officials, but the favored companion of a prince, rising through the ranks, competing with others for attention, and perhaps… one day, becoming the primary consort?"
He leaned a little closer, his smirk deepening.
"But instead of risking the climb through merit and favor," he added, tone laced with mock sympathy, "you thought to take a shortcut—crafting a few well-placed rumors, parading yourself as someone… already close to me."
Her eyes widened for a heartbeat, lips parting in silent shock.
Daita stepped back with calculated elegance, brushing a loose thread from his sleeve.
"But if this is how you scheme for favor," he said softly, eyes gleaming, "I wonder how you'll survive in a palace where whispers cut sharper than blades… and envy burns hotter than any fire."
The woman's jaw tightened. She stepped forward, expression shifting from shock to defiance.
"Seventh Prince… it's not what you think," she hissed. "And you! Do you realize what will happen if you falsely accuse a high-ranking official like me? I am the Chief of Inner Court Discipline! If word of this reaches the Council—"
Daita cut in smoothly, voice cold and cutting. "High-ranker?" He tilted his head mockingly. "Wasn't that position handed to you after I flirted with you once purely in jest and you turned that into leverage? Don't act like this was earned through merit." He stepped in closer, shadows flickering over his amused yet cold face.
"If I remember right, we had a deal, Meilin." Her name slipped out like silk sharp-edged silk. "You were to gather intel from the inner court. In exchange, you'd get my favor in name only. Nothing more. Nothing deeper. And definitely… no commitments."
He leaned in further, voice barely a breath. "Yet your eyes never once left me. Your desire for power only grew. Your reports stopped coming. And now, you're staging rumors with trembling maids?"
Daita stepped back, brushing off the front of his robes as if the conversation bored him now.
"This isn't the first time you've tried something like this… but I'd suggest it be the last. Because if this happens again… that will be your last day within the palace walls."
His final word lingered like a blade hanging overhead.
"Understand?"
Meilin flinched. The threat though spoken softly struck with the force of a hammer. Her pride warred with fear for a moment… but fear won. She lowered her head quickly, her voice tight. "Yes… I understand."
Daita stood still, waiting.
Meilin swallowed hard and added, "This won't repeat. I will fulfill the terms of our deal… and focus solely on my task."
Daita finally turned away, the moment's tension peeling off him like a cloak.
"You're a beautiful woman, Meilin…" he said without turning. "But trying to be cunning doesn't really suit you." He glanced back over his shoulder, a glint of cold amusement in his eyes.
"You don't have a sharp enough mind for that in the first place. And if you're wondering about the space in my heart—" His smile sharpened.
"It definitely wouldn't be you."
And with that, he walked off down the corridor, leaving Meilin behind in the heavy silence, her pride burning hotter than the shame on her face.
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Storyworld Annotation
The term Shìfēi : one of the ranked noble companions within the royal court—carried both allure and danger. Positioned beneath the official consorts but above ordinary attendants, a Shìfēi was neither wife nor mere mistress. She existed in a liminal space, close enough to power to taste it, but never guaranteed permanence.
Women of ambition clawed their way toward that title, outwitting rivals in silken duels of flattery, poison, and whispers. It was a role both coveted and feared, for it offered proximity to royalty but at the cost of one's peace, privacy, and often, pride.
To become a Shìfēi meant joining a brutal contest. where favor from a prince or princess could elevate a mere daughter of a merchant to a seat of power, or crush a noble-born beneath court scandal. Some entered for love, some for power… and others, simply because they had nothing else to lose. But to win a royal's heart.
"Win the heart of a royal, and in a single breath, obscurity becomes opulence."
Chief of Inner Court Discipline
• Role: Enforces rules, handles internal investigations, monitors palace staff (maids, attendants, eunuchs), and reports directly to high-ranking royals or palace officials.
• Power: Has authority over other servants and possibly influence in political or personal matters within the palace.
• Symbolism: A role of both fear and respect, often held by someone trusted by the royal family.
The Eight Inner Court High Officials
1. Chief of Inner Court Discipline
2. Head of the Imperial Kitchens
3. Master of the Ceremonial Halls
4. Keeper of Royal Attire
5. Chief Steward of the Royal Chambers
6. Guardian of Imperial Archives
7. Director of Inner Security
8. Mistress of Court Maids