When fire has been drowned beneath the water for too long,
it will not blaze—it will slice quietly, until all things burn.
⸻
In a quiet, secluded chamber within the hidden quarters of the palace consorts,
a figure dressed in a sheer muslin robe sat motionless at the center of the room.
Xianlan said nothing after receiving the news:
Three officials, once involved in her mother's case, had begun to move.
The message hadn't come from the imperial court,
but from the network beneath the silk,
now partially opened to her by Jiang Xinluo.
A faint smile curved her lips—subtle, like faded ink on a calligraphy brush.
"Under heaven… there are still those who remember that gentle Princess Jingfei
was never meant to be sacrificed…"
⸻
Elsewhere in the palace,
Feng Yuhan read a report sent directly by a legal official from the council.
His eyes traced the final line slowly:
"The execution order was issued under the Emperor's name…
but the drafter was not His Majesty himself."
He set the document down,
picked up a single chess piece,
and placed it in the center of the board.
"This move… must be yours to make,"
he murmured to himself.
⸻
That afternoon, Xianlan disguised herself as a maid and slipped beyond the boundaries of the inner palace—
a forbidden act under normal circumstances.
But today, she carried a secret token, sent by Jiang Xinluo.
Her destination:
a small teahouse in an alley behind the palace,
a place no one would suspect.
There, an old man in a black robe waited.
He was a former official from the time of Princess Jingfei.
His hands trembled as he handed her a journal—
his own testimony from a secret court meeting held before Jingfei's downfall.
"Your Highness… I may not shout the truth in the royal court,
but I cannot die without passing it on."
She received it with steady hands.
"I don't ask for shouting…
I ask only for a blade quiet enough to strike the heart."
⸻
At that same moment, in Yuying Pavilion,
Su Zhen was furious.
A spy's report had just arrived—
Xianlan would have a second private audience with the Emperor tomorrow.
Su Zhen clenched her teacup—
until it shattered in her grasp.
Beside her, Su Mengyu narrowed her eyes at her stepmother, annoyed.
"Stepmother… if you let her meet the Emperor twice in one month,
the court might really start calling her His Beloved Daughter."
Su Zhen whipped around, her voice cold as ice:
"And what have you done, Mengyu?
If you can't pull Xianlan from His Majesty's sight next time…
I'll strip your title myself."
Mengyu pressed her lips tight.
In her lovely eyes, the glint of a forming scheme shimmered.
⸻
At dawn, in the bamboo courtyard, Xianlan had her second audience with her father.
Emperor Li Sichen sat in plain cotton robes—
far too simple for an emperor.
He remained silent for a long time
before finally whispering:
"I no longer remember…
how loud your cries were that day."
Xianlan met his eyes, unflinching.
"They weren't loud enough to cross the palace gates…
and reach your heart."
Her words weren't filled with bitterness—
only stillness, piercing like a blade.
Tears welled in the old man's eyes without warning.
He reached into his robe and offered her a small wrapped bundle.
"Your mother left this behind…
I thought I no longer had the right to open it."
Xianlan accepted it, opening it slowly.
Inside—
a thread of silk embroidered with her name,
and beneath it, a single phrase:
"I believe… you will become a phoenix no one can force to fold her wings."