In the imperial palace… even the wind has ears.
⸻
The soft chime of the ceremonial bell rang out at dusk, its echo dancing along the marble walls of the Hall of Oaths—the sacred place where royal princesses swore before Heaven when accused or summoned over court disputes.
Today, no ceremony had been scheduled.
Yet somehow, someone had "arranged" for Xianlan to appear.
⸻
One knot unraveled, another wave began to rise.
Xianlan stepped into the Hall of Oaths with a composed expression.
Her robes that day were elegant, plain, and patternless—so understated that her figure seemed to sink into an unsettling calm.
At the center table lay a silk requisition scroll from the royal textile treasury.
Stamped with the emblem "Humble but Daring" carved in plum blossom jade—a seal reserved only for princesses entitled to request tribute silks.
It was her seal.
But was she the one who forged it… or was someone hoping she'd believe that?
⸻
A voice from the shadows: Wen Yichen
"You're far too calm for someone accused of forging a royal seal."
The smooth voice of Wen Yichen came from a dim corner.
The tall, slender man in neutral official robes leaned lazily against a carved pillar, ignoring all formality.
"Or perhaps you know… this move wasn't meant to destroy you—just to drag you into the mud, so someone else can 'save' you with their so-called kindness."
Xianlan offered a faint smile.
"You're suggesting someone wants me to appear weak,
so another can appear brave?"
"Someone's staging a play—
and they've written you as the tragic supporting role."
⸻
A strategy wrapped in conversation
Wen Yichen slid another paper across the table.
A log of entries into the royal textile vault over the past three days.
The name Zhao Rusu, personal maid of Su Mengyu, stood out boldly.
"I'm not saying you should declare war…
but maybe let them believe you're beginning to doubt yourself.
That's when they'll slip."
"You want me to pretend to be weak?" she asked.
He shrugged.
"You'd play the role far better than I ever could."
⸻
The scent in the wind
That night, Xianlan returned to her quarters.
A cool breeze drifted through a half-open window.
It carried an unfamiliar fragrance of incense—not strange for its scent, but because…
"This residence has never used that kind of wood…"
She walked to the tea altar, gently touching the edge of a clay tray.
Beneath it, she found a single strand of broken silk thread
and a trace of fine powder—the kind used in mild sedatives to induce unconsciousness.
Her gaze turned cold.
⸻
Elsewhere in the palace — Jiang Xinluo begins to shift
That night, Jiang Xinluo sat at a dragon-engraved desk.
For the first time, she couldn't remain calm.
The image of Xianlan standing in the Hall of Oaths echoed in her mind—
speaking few words, taking no offensive stance, offering no defense.
Yet somehow… shaking her enemies.
"She's not the woman I once believed she was… and maybe…"
Her fingers brushed the edge of a snow-patterned fan.
Maybe… standing beside Xianlan wouldn't be such a terrible thing after all.
⸻
Before the Noble Consort's palace — a new act begins
Su Mengyu waited outside with her handmaid, smile still delicate and sweet.
But inside, anxiety simmered.
She had hoped Xianlan would rage—strike back recklessly.
But what came instead… was silence.
So deafening, it forced her to reconsider:
Had she just turned herself into a pawn on someone else's board?
⸻
And in a distant tower — the Emperor watches the shadows
Emperor Li Sichen stood at the upper window, gazing quietly toward the now-closing doors of the Hall of Oaths.
He spoke softly to the eunuch beside him:
"Xianlan…
it is in the moments when you say nothing
that others begin to fear you most."