Rebirth of the Phoenix Empress

"Do you think he came to see you out of past affection?"

"Men never remember the past. Only women are cursed to never forget."

Su Mengyu had spoken those words with a careless grace, the sort that floated on the surface of idle conversation yet carried the weight of sharpened daggers. It was during yesterday's tea gathering an event meant for civility and silk-painting, but where words often wielded more danger than blades.

Her tone had been languid, her smile soft, the cup of osmanthus tea held delicately between painted fingers. And though no name had been spoken aloud, the implication had sliced through the air like a veiled accusation.

The ladies around her had gasped behind fans, their eyes flicking toward Xianlan, who had simply lowered her gaze to the tea in her own cup. She had not responded. She hadn't needed to.

Everyone knew exactly who Su Mengyu meant.

And so, it began.

—

Within mere days of Wen Yichen's visit to Hualan Pavilion, the first whispers began to stir.

"The Fourth Princess summoned Young Lord Wen late at night." 

"They say soft zither music could be heard from her pavilion even after curfew." 

"Perhaps she's seeking an unbound man… since the Southern Yan Crown Prince has yet to show clear intentions?"

They were murmurs at first, passed quietly over lacquered tables, behind embroidered fans, and in the shadows of moonlit hallways. But like a spark to dry tinder, the rumors grew.

Xianlan heard all of it.

She listened as her maids reported what they had overheard in the market square and among the laundry maids. She nodded silently, her expression never shifting. Her fingers did not tremble as she turned the scroll in her hands, nor did her breath hitch as she set her chrysanthemum tea back onto the jade inlaid table.

Her voice was calm.

"Rumors are like dry grass," she murmured, "if the wind is strong enough… they catch fire."

Her eyes, cool as still water, lifted to meet the gaze of her senior maid.

"But I also know…" she continued, "those who strike the spark always leave behind a trace."

—

That afternoon, the inner court hall bustled with movement. A subcommittee of noble ladies had been convened to review designs for auspicious patterned silks offerings to be used during the Heaven Worship Festival.

Su Mengyu arrived first, clad in a pale lotus gown embroidered with golden reeds. Her maid Xiao Ru trailed behind her, carrying a lacquered scroll box. Su Mengyu's face bore the calm confidence of one who believed the wind favored her side.

Xianlan arrived shortly after.

She wore a robe of muted cream, simple to the eye, with subtle silver stitching that caught the light only if one looked closely. No lavish jewels adorned her hair. Only a single ornament: a bamboo hairpin, carved simply and tucked neatly at the back of her head.

It drew immediate attention.

Whispers fluttered like moths.

And then, at the exact moment when the room had stilled when silk samples had been laid upon the long table and the court lady was about to speak Xiao Ru gasped.

"Oh… that bamboo pin that's the one Young Lord Wen was wearing the other day!"

The silence that followed was sharp enough to draw blood.

Su Mengyu's head turned so fast the beads in her hair clinked against one another. Her eyes narrowed.

Xiao Ru paled. "I ... I meant the color! Not that"

Xianlan's lips curled into a faint smile, soft and unreadable. She stepped forward slightly, her gaze falling gently on Xiao Ru.

"And how would you know it's his?" she asked, voice light but unmistakably sharp. "Unless you saw him… remove it and give it to me?"

Xiao Ru's mouth opened but no sound came. Her cheeks lost all color. She lowered her gaze, trembling.

Su Mengyu's jaw locked tight. To defend her maid now would mean admitting too much. But to remain silent was no better.

The other ladies sat frozen, watching.

In the silence, Xianlan turned, smoothed the silk at her sleeve, and sat.

—

After the meeting, the garden paths of the palace were bathed in the gentle glow of the late afternoon sun. Flowers swayed gently in the breeze, and cicadas hummed from within the hedges.

Wen Yichen approached her quietly as she walked alone by the lotus pond.

He said nothing at first. His steps were measured. His gaze held a quiet concern.

"You handled that too well," he said softly.

Xianlan looked at him sidelong. "Should I have burst into tears instead?"

He gave a brief, dry chuckle. Then his expression sobered.

"I think I should keep my distance for a while," he said. "Not because I'm afraid… but because I don't want you to suffer from the accusations made against me."

She stopped walking and faced him.

"Do you think I'm afraid?" she asked, voice low. "I've already been falsely accused of worse accused to the point of death."

His smile was faint, bitter.

"But back then… I wasn't there." He met her gaze. "This time, I am. Whether you allow me to stand in the light… or in your shadow."

She looked at him for a long moment, then turned away.

But her heart, so long numbed, stirred ever so slightly.

—

That evening, deep within the shadows of the front palace, a sealed scroll was delivered into the Emperor's hand.

By candlelight, Emperor Li Sichen read the report in silence. His face betrayed no emotion, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at tension.

"The Grand Eunuch has discovered that the rumors about the Fourth Princess originated from inner court maids…" the report stated. "Their connections trace back to a servant within Noble Consort Su's residence."

He set the scroll down.

His fingers steepled before him.

"Who is it…" he murmured, "that dares try to tarnish the blood of my house to this extent?"

—

At that same moment, in the warm-lit chamber of the Consort's Palace, Su Mengyu sat before her vanity.

Her maid entered swiftly and whispered into her ear.

Su Mengyu's expression tightened.

"A eunuch from the front palace has come to inspect the private correspondence."

She rose slowly, her face composed but her knuckles white as they clenched the sandalwood fan.

"So," she said, her voice like silk stretched taut, "she dares move the board all the way to His Majesty now…"

Her eyes drifted toward the moonlit window.

"If you want to play the game of 'honor'…" she whispered, "then I'll play the game of 'morality' and leave you with no place left in this palace."

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

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