Rebirth of the Phoenix Empress

The imperial palace was often a silent sea of stone after sunset its jade roofs and marble corridors turning pale beneath the moon's gaze. Only the rustle of silk robes or the distant echo of bells ever dared to disturb that stillness. But tonight, silence was shattered.

A blaze rose suddenly in the east wing.

It began as a sharp glint on the horizon then grew, uncoiling like a beast awakened from slumber. Red-orange flames tore through the sky above the eastern halls, licking at the black velvet night. Thick smoke twisted upward, blanketing the heavens like a storm summoned by rage itself.

Chi Yu Gong the royal archive pavilion was burning.

The alarm drums sounded three times. A warning. A summons.

From every direction, the palace sprang to life. Eunuchs grabbed buckets of water. Palace guards rushed forward, blades drawn though there were no enemies in sight. Maids clutched their sleeves, whispering prayers, their slippers slipping across slick tiles as they scrambled to avoid the growing commotion.

"Fire! There's a fire!"

The shout echoed over the courtyard walls.

The keeper of the scroll house stumbled forward, face ashen, eyes wide with disbelief.

"It was set deliberately!" he cried, pointing toward the scorched foundation beams. "There were footprints seen near the eastern corridor last night. And we found oil-stained silk hidden beneath the pavilion…"

His hands trembled as he held up the evidence.

"The prints match the shoes of… the Fourth Princess."

—

At Hualan Palace, the scent of chrysanthemum tea filled the air.

Xianlan sat composed as always, a slender cup balanced between her fingers. Her maid, breathless and pale, knelt before her.

"Your Highness… the Jade Pavilion… Chi Yu Gong it's ablaze. And they say… the evidence…"

The cup was set down.

Xianlan's face betrayed no shock, no anger. Her gaze drifted toward the moonlit garden outside the window.

"So it's begun," she murmured.

She folded her hands neatly in her lap.

"A crude attempt to rattle me. Framing me with desperation disguised as strategy."

Her voice remained calm.

"But if this is their first move… then they've misread the game."

—

By dawn, the chaos had simmered into unease.

The imperial court gathered beneath the arched ceilings of the Hall of Governance. Ministers stood in orderly ranks. The scent of ash still clung faintly to their sleeves.

The Minister of Order stepped forward.

"Your Majesty," he said, bowing deeply. "We have evidence to present."

He gestured. A box was opened.

"Here lies a piece of embroidered silk found beneath the Jade Pavilion, bearing the character 'Lan.' The threads are unique only used in Hualan Palace garments. Furthermore, the footprints in the soot match shoes issued to the Fourth Princess's staff."

Murmurs rippled through the officials.

Consort Gui, seated among the inner court, sighed loudly enough to be heard.

"What a pity," she said. "I had believed Xianlan had matured… But if royal archives can be burned without consequence, what message does that send?"

Several heads nodded solemnly.

The Emperor remained silent.

Then, from among the officials, a calm voice broke the tension.

"Lord Sun."

All turned.

Feng Yuhan stepped forward.

His robe was dark blue, embroidered with a single silver dragon. His face, unreadable. His presence commanding.

"You claim the prints match those from Hualan Palace?" he asked. "And that oil-stained silk was found nearby?"

The Minister of Order nodded.

Feng Yuhan walked slowly forward.

"And yet… Hualan Palace has not used oil lamps in over half a year. Their halls were converted to burn incense wax for better ventilation. If you had visited recently, you would know this."

Silence fell.

"And this 'embroidered silk' bearing the character 'Lan'" he continued, "such fabric is reserved for ceremonial robes during festival season. According to palace records, no new garments have been commissioned from Hualan Palace in the last two months."

He paused before the Emperor.

"I propose we first investigate who had access to the Jade Pavilion this week. Who entered. Who moved textiles. Who benefits from this fire."

The Emperor's gaze lingered on his son.

"Are you certain…" he asked slowly, "that your judgment isn't clouded by personal interest?"

Feng Yuhan bowed.

"I have no reason to favor anyone."

He straightened, voice steady.

"But I have every reason not to stand by while injustice is carried out in the name of the law."

—

That afternoon, Xianlan stood in the Emperor's private chamber.

A sealed envelope was placed before her allegedly discovered among ancient scrolls in the Jade Pavilion. Its wax was broken, its contents already known to others.

Inside: a letter bearing her signature.

She read the script in silence.

Then, looking up, she spoke evenly.

"I will neither deny nor defend myself."

She folded the parchment.

"But I request that the handwriting be verified by a royal calligraphy examiner not a maidservant from the inner court. If those presenting this letter truly believe it genuine… they will not fear scrutiny."

Her tone was not pleading.

It was composed. Intentional.

A challenge masked as reason.

From nearby, Jiang Xinluo stood watching.

She saw the way Xianlan's shoulders remained relaxed. The calmness in her voice. The steadiness of her hands.

This was not a woman fighting to prove innocence.

This was a strategist inviting her enemies to overreach.

—

That evening, in a quiet garden pavilion where lanterns swayed with the wind, Feng Yuhan approached.

He paused before speaking.

Xianlan was kneeling beside a rare tea shrub from Yicheng, carefully watering its roots with rain-collected water. Her motions were gentle, almost meditative.

"You know who's behind this," he said quietly.

She didn't look up.

"I know someone's panicking," she replied. "Enough to light a fire… hoping to reduce truth to ash."

She tilted the watering vessel slightly, watching the soil darken.

"But they didn't realize…"

She met his gaze.

"…the archive keeper is the elder brother of one of my oldest maids. Loyal. And meticulous."

Feng Yuhan let out a quiet breath, his lips curling faintly.

"You didn't even move a piece," he murmured.

"You just laid out the board and waited."

Xianlan's eyes glinted.

"If I win because I'm clever, history may forget me."

She stood, brushing her hands.

"But if they lose by their own hand… the shame will outlive the flame."

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

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