In the harem of the imperial palace, if the ice lies still long enough—
the fire within will erupt at the most unexpected moment.
⸻
That morning, the sky loomed heavy with clouds, as if rain were coming—even though it was not yet monsoon season.
A strange stillness blanketed the entire inner palace,
like a thin sheet of ice… as if nature itself were holding its breath, waiting for something to explode.
Inside the inner chamber of Xianyan Pavilion, Xianlan sat before a seal placed at the center of the table.
It was not her seal—
but a forgery, crafted with alarming precision.
"Are you certain?"
Wen Yichen spoke low, his gaze unreadable—deep, as if even his concern might be part of a calculation.
"I am," she replied calmly.
"Because if I don't strike first… someone else will.
And I don't trust pieces I don't control."
She then placed the letter she had penned in flawless script into the delivery box.
Its subject:
"A formal request for public inspection of all imperial consort seals."
That letter was a spark dropped into an oil drum.
And soon, the entire palace trembled.
⸻
An urgent imperial decree arrived by Hour of Chen (7–9 AM),
from Emperor Li Sichen himself.
"All royal seals of the Inner Palace are to be inspected and registered—within three days."
And the decree named a lead investigator:
Feng Yuhan.
A man who, in the past, had never once meddled in palace affairs.
⸻
In Yuying Pavilion, Su Zhen read the news with a frozen expression.
The jade cup in her hand slipped—
and shattered.
"Xianlan… do you truly think you're that clever?"
The words hissed through clenched teeth.
Her closest maid took a cautious step away, visibly shaken.
⸻
And then… came the Day of Inspection.
A secondary throne hall near the Hall of Oaths was transformed into a review chamber for the consorts.
Ladies in elaborate robes of every color entered in heavy silence.
Xianlan arrived last.
Every eye turned toward her…
but no one dared to speak.
Feng Yuhan was already standing at the head of the table.
He nodded slightly—no smile, no polite gesture.
Only a steady look…
as if saying:
"You'll bring this to a brilliant end—I believe that."
⸻
She inspected each seal in turn, alongside the Grand Eunuch and legal officials.
Most seals had minor discrepancies—acceptable within reason.
But the seal of Guifei's Pavilion—Su Zhen's residence—
was the only one that had been used to stamp cloth gifts with no recorded recipient in imperial archives.
Su Zhen bit down so hard her teeth ground audibly.
She forced a smile.
"Perhaps a maid picked up the wrong seal… or perhaps someone seeks to frame me, Your Grace."
Xianlan responded only:
"Since I was once falsely accused by such claims…
I would never use them against another."
The room fell silent—not because of how sharp her words were,
but because they lacked anger.
Instead, she left her statement hanging—
inviting all to draw their own conclusions
about who, perhaps, had made such excuses one too many times.
⸻
But just then,
a eunuch stepped forward and placed a silk garment onto the table—
recently found in the chamber of a maid close to Su Mengyu.
The silk's serial matched a forged seal requisition.
Gasps spread through the hall as Mengyu went pale.
She sprang up to defend herself—
but stumbled on the rug.
She looked up at Xianlan, lips trembling,
yet still tried to smile.
"I… I must've been framed."
Xianlan stepped forward.
She bent slightly, stopping just half a pace away.
Her voice soft:
"I haven't even acted yet…
and already, you've fallen?"
Her words were like steel tapping glass—
sharp, cold, yet utterly still.
And they hushed the entire room.
⸻
Outside,
the first rain of the season began falling gently on the roof.
Feng Yuhan silently extended a small handkerchief toward her.
Their hands did not touch—
but in the moment it passed from him to her,
his gaze locked onto hers.
And he said,
softly—so softly—
yet everyone heard:
"There is something in you…
that makes those who once never knew the heart…
want to protect it."
It was not sweet.
But it changed the room.
Maidens who once looked down on her now averted their eyes.
Court ministers whispered.
Even Su Mengyu stared, wide-eyed—
Because the man who praised no one
was now declaring that the girl before them
was not merely a princess—
but a flame that burns… even through ice.
⸻
That night, Xianlan sat by the corridor of her palace,
wrapped in a light shawl, watching the rain beyond the curtain.
It was not over.
But she now knew—
The ice that had blanketed the palace for so long… had begun to melt.
One hand rested on her own seal.
And in her heart, a single thought arose:
"Mother…
I will return everything to you…
with my own hands."