Rebirth of the Phoenix Empress

The winter in the Kingdom of Li this year was harsher than any in living memory.

A relentless wind surged down from the northern Beilong Mountains, carrying a bitter chill that flayed the skin and gnawed into the bones. Its shrill howls pierced through the cracks in the aged wooden walls of the Cold Palace, echoing like the lamentations of forgotten souls. Blood-red plum blossoms, meant to bloom in quiet defiance beneath the snow, now withered weakly, their petals drifting down as though mourning someone unseen.

The stone courtyard normally still and silent at this hour was shattered by the sharp crack of a rattan whip slicing through the air, and the faint, ragged breath of a girl kneeling in the center.

Her gaze was vacant, and her long, black hair drenched with melting snow and sweat from a battered body hung limp over her bruised face.

The girl, cloaked in torn cloth that concealed her nobility, was none other than the fourth princess of Li:

Xianlan.

Her obsidian eyes stared blankly into the snow ahead, where pristine white was marred with splashes of red faint and dark in places, like an unfinished painting abandoned by its creator.

But no one would stop to admire it.

No one would shed tears for the blood of a condemned princess.

The fine silk she wore was too thin to guard her from the cold let alone from human cruelty.

Her wrists were bound with rough rope, angry red welts circling delicate skin.

Her lips were cracked and dry, her nose flushed from the freezing air, and her eyes once clear as spring were now bloodshot and arid from withholding tears too long.

Her body trembled, whether from the cold or the pain that had sunk into her very soul, it was impossible to tell.

"Poisoning Prince Su Yan."

That was the accusation.

No evidence. No investigation.

Only the venomous words of one woman

"Noble Consort Su Zhen."

That woman who had once been her stepmother, her caretaker since childhood,

who had whispered tender lullabies into her ears

was now the very hand that cast her into the flames of hell.

The rattan whip struck again, tearing through her flimsy robes.

Warm blood trickled down her back, blooming like a crimson path upon the snow.

Xianlan clenched her teeth.

Her body quivered with the effort to remain silent.

She would not cry out.

Not even a whimper.

"If I scream," she thought, "she will only be more pleased."

"If you are innocent, then why was the poisoned needle hidden beneath your pillow?"

The consort's voice floated from a shadowed corner of the courtyard.

She stood draped in a cloak of white fox fur pristine and eerily serene her eyes bearing down on the girl like one might regard a misbehaving pet.

Her soft red lips curled upward in mockery.

"I never… I never even touched it…"

Xianlan's voice cracked, her breath ghostly with cold and despair.

The tall, willowy figure of Noble Consort Su slowly lowered herself down.

One delicate hand reached out to gently stroke Xianlan's hair

a soft touch, almost tender yet so cold it made the girl flinch.

"You didn't need to commit a sin."

The consort whispered at her ear, her lips brushing against the girl's pale, bloodless cheek.

"Merely being born… and being loved by His Majesty, you and your mother were already guilty. Now go… go be with her."

Xianlan's eyes flew wide

but her limbs, broken by pain and cold, refused to move.

Within her heart echoed only one question…

Why must I be hated this much?

"I once called her 'Mother'… she once held me, sang me to sleep…"

"Yet today, she schemes for me to die like a stray dog, far from the palace walls."

Consort Su smiled.

Her laughter was faint, as brittle and lifeless as a dry blossom crushed underfoot.

She rose without haste, turning her back with chilling poise,

and spoke, with measured calm, to the two waiting maids not far off.

"No one is to enter or leave the Cold Palace tonight."

"Yes, Your Grace."

No footsteps of soldiers.

No watchman's cry.

Not even the flap of a distant bird's wings.

Only the sound of snow falling to earth

and the dying breath of hope.

Xianlan lifted her gaze toward the east.

Beyond the veils of snow and silence,

she could faintly see the blurred glow of lanterns in the distance

the imperial palace.

Her father's palace.

The Emperor of Li.

"Father… I never even had the chance to tell you…"

"just how much… I loved you."

The words were never spoken aloud,

but her heart voiced them clear and soft.

She hoped

that if he ever learned the truth,

he would not hate her.

He would not forget…

that she was his own flesh and blood.

"And yet… not even a single lantern shines this way from the palace…"

The final tear slipped from her eye,

falling into the snow where her blood had begun to soak.

Her breath hitched

and then stilled.

Her heart, once steady and strong, now beat slower… slower still.

A young girl

a princess of the proud and ancient Kingdom of Li

collapsed into the white, unbroken snow.

No one looked.

No one came.

Not a soul stirred for one they once called "family."

But her body…

was not swallowed by silence.

Snow continued to fall.

Blood-red plum blossoms continued to scatter like sorrowful confessions.

The crimson that painted the snow seemed the stroke of a divine hand.

Tonight,

Princess Xianlan… died.

Died branded as a traitor.

Died without dignity.

Died beneath the blooming flowers…

But this

was not the end.

It was not yet the end of her story.

"This chapter has been updated with improved narrative and deeper character perspective. The plot remains unchanged."

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