The full moon cast its silver glow onto the resting pavilion beneath the purple-flowered zǐhuā tree.
The wind whispered through its branches, dancing with the light and shadow that flickered across the simple jadewood table.
Jiang Xinluo sat alone, her eyes fixed on an old scroll.
It was a letter recently sent by a spy from Jianrong.
Inside was a sketched plan for sabotaging the imperial palace—
And the name written at the bottom…
"Xianlan."
"Why… is everything being pinned on her?"
"Or is the sender starting to panic—so much that they must tighten the noose?"
Jiang Xinluo pressed her lips together.
Confusion stirred within her. She realized that if she continued to let "reports from the source" dictate her thoughts,
she would never uncover the real truth.
⸻
That night,
she dressed in a plain cloak,
taking the secret path through the palace walls until she arrived at the lotus pond pavilion—the secondary residence of the Crown Prince.
The pavilion's doors were open.
Inside, only a faint lantern glowed.
Soft notes of a zither drifted through the silence.
As Jiang Xinluo stepped in,
Feng Yuhan lifted his gaze slightly.
"I didn't expect… the female envoy of Jianrong to risk visiting me at such an hour."
"I came seeking an answer."
"Not as a spy—but as someone who wants to separate shadow from truth."
⸻
Feng Yuhan looked at her calmly, then spoke.
"I once believed truth could be proven with an official seal."
"But after witnessing someone burned without anyone even knowing whether she cried…"
"I no longer dare to believe that."
Jiang Xinluo held his gaze.
The sharpness in her eyes softened.
"You mean… Xianlan?"
Feng Yuhan didn't answer directly.
He merely rested his fingers on the zither strings and played a soft melody.
"Do you know she never asked for help…"
"Not even when the entire court was ready to accuse her of setting fire to the archive?"
⸻
The moonlight shifted slowly across the pavilion floor.
The zither's melody faded, leaving behind a voice softer than the wind.
"And I… only just realized—somewhere along the way…"
"I began watching her not out of suspicion, but out of fear… that I might miss something important."
⸻
Jiang Xinluo fell silent.
A woman who had always walked the blade of politics now found her heart stirred by something wordless.
"If one day… you realize she might be caught in a trap you helped design,"
"I hope you'll choose to discard your cards to protect her, rather than win the game."
⸻
That night,
Jiang Xinluo returned to her quarters with a different look in her eyes.
Meanwhile, in her own chamber, Xianlan opened a small wooden box hidden beneath her bed.
Inside was a jadering.
"Mother's ring… returned in silence."
"And only one person ever knew whose hand it once belonged to…"
There was a tiny chip on the edge.
But to Xianlan, that flaw was proof—
proof that someone still remembered her mother's past.
And that memory…
would be the thread she pulled
to unravel the deepest roots of the truth.