Rebirth of the Phoenix Empress

Rumors…

are poison without a scent.

They do not scream, do not roar, do not declare themselves like swords or arrows.

Instead, they seep through ears, through hearts, through the quiet tremors of the human mind.

The imperial palace, stern and resolute on the surface, is at its most fragile when confronted with whispers that bear no name.

 And this time… the venom flowed silently.

⸻

It took only a few days after Su Mengyu set foot within the palace walls for the murmurs to begin scratching at the ears of every servant from side chambers to kitchen hearths.

"The Fourth Princess… visits the foreign Crown Prince far too often, doesn't she?"

"Indeed. It's not proper at all she holds no rank near his betrothed."

"They say she even walked alone toward the envoy quarters by moonlight…"

From faint murmurs they grew into whispers.

From idle wonderings into pointed accusations.

From accusations… into "truths" no one dared to refute.

⸻

Xianlan sat alone, sipping tea in silence within the Hall of Huahuan.

The sound of a wind-chime tinkled softly as breeze brushed through the open lattice. The aroma of wild plum blossom tea lingered in the air, steeped just to the right warmth.

She drank quietly. She did not ask. She did not investigate.

Because deep within… she already knew every word the wind carried.

"A rumor this coordinated is no accident."

"And the hand that wove it… is not far from me."

⸻

That night, beneath the light of a full moon,

Feng Yuhan came again to Huahuan Hall.

He arrived without sound, without escort. Even his guards had been ordered to stay away.

She poured tea for him, her manner composed.

The air between them seemed still yet under the moonlight, everything gleamed with edge.

"What will you do?"

he asked plainly, without preface.

Xianlan placed her teacup down gently, then lifted her gaze. 

Their eyes met hers unwavering, calm as still waters.

"I have never feared rumors."

Her voice was soft, level yet steady as steel.

"But I will not allow someone like her to wield rumors as blades then walk away unscathed."

Feng Yuhan said nothing.

He knew full well she would not stop.

And the game about to unfold… would not be one that ends easily.

⸻

On a night when the moon hung curved like the edge of a lantern,

the Moonlight Pavilion nestled in the center of the garden was aglow with silver-white paper lanterns.

The faint fragrance of plum blossoms drifted from the outer groves, mingling with the delicate scent of brewed tea, creating an atmosphere cool but not cutting still, yet more unnerving than silence.

Xianlan sat at the center.

She wore a flowing gown of ivory silk, embroidered with layered clouds in silver thread a pattern nearly invisible without light, but when the flicker of candlelight caught it, the embroidery shimmered faintly, as though she were cloaked in moonlight dust.

The ladies of the inner palace, the royal court, and noble households sat arranged in neat rows by rank. Soft murmurs filled the air just enough to betray a single truth: No one trusted anyone.

Xianlan smiled faintly as Su Mengyu entered.

She was accompanied by a single maid in a sheer peach-hued gown. The servant stopped a respectful distance behind, perfectly aware of her place.

And as always… Su Mengyu offered a delicate smile to the hostess.

"Such a smile… so gentle, yet colder than snow upon a mountain peak."

"Come, sit closer to me, Lady Su,"

Xianlan spoke with clarity and grace.

A maid prepared the seat without hesitation. No one dared to object.

⸻

The tea ceremony began.

The soft bubbling of hot water whispered from a brass kettle.

Xianlan rinsed the teacups with exquisite care, her pale slender fingers moving like a dancer trained in rhythm.

The placement of cups, the pouring of water all seemingly simple gestures, yet they held the attention of all present like a silent incantation.

"Today… I did not invite you all to showcase skill,"

"but rather to share a tale I once heard in the Southern Kingdom of Nanyan…"

The room fell into hushed stillness.

Xianlan's hands never stopped moving, her voice gentle as though telling a bedtime story.

"There once was a young maiden…"

"She loved the Crown Prince dearly, yet dared not speak her heart."

"So she brewed a tea with a unique fragrance so that he would remember her scent whenever she was near."

Some guests exchanged glances.

But none spoke.

Xianlan smiled, lifting her gaze to meet Su Mengyu's eyes.

Then, with her own hands, she took a porcelain teacup infused with a distinct fragrance and offered it forward.

"Please, Lady Su, have a taste."

"The scent… is it not reminiscent of Mei Blossom Tears from your homeland?"

For a mere heartbeat, Su Mengyu faltered.

But her smile returned swiftly, seamless as silk.

"It carries a lovely fragrance," she replied smoothly.

"Though… slightly different from what I recall."

"Still, it is a unique aroma. Quite… memorable."

Xianlan brought her own cup to her lips, sipping slowly, then spoke in a voice soft as the falling snow yet every word carried clearly.

"In the old tale… the maiden placed her fragrance upon his garments… his pillows… even the chambers he dwelled in."

"And so, all believed her to be the Crown Prince's betrothed her scent lingered everywhere, after all."

Soft laughter rippled among the guests.

But Su Mengyu remained utterly still her expression unnaturally serene.

"In the end," Xianlan continued, her tone almost wistful, "the Crown Prince uncovered the truth."

"She was not his betrothed. And she had no right to ever enter his quarters."

A pause.

"It is said… she was punished by kneeling for three days in the snow."

⸻

Su Mengyu lifted her cup again, sipping with feigned ease.

But inside, her thoughts roiled like boiling tea.

"She knows. How does she know?"

"Is this… a warning? No this is a public humiliation!"

⸻

After finishing her tea, Su Mengyu managed to maintain her composed expression.

She turned to Miss Zhen, seated beside her, and remarked lightly:

"Her Highness's blend is exquisite. I may need to learn the recipe myself someday."

A gentle hum of conversation rose once more among the gathered ladies but this time, it was laced with wariness. Not a soul dared to speak of Xianlan with even a hint of reproach.

For now they all understood…

The one who had just lost the battle was Su Mengyu.

⸻

When the tea gathering came to an end,

attendants filed through with warm water for rinsing hands and delicate boxes of parting gifts for the guests.

Xianlan remained seated, smiling with quiet poise. 

She watched Su Mengyu leave, her silhouette stretching long beneath the light of the moon.

"Rumors are like mist… they may veil the eyes, but not for long."

"When light touches the ground, all shall be seen clearly."

⸻

That night, within the quietude of Hua Lan Palace,

a soft voice broke the silence as a maid gently combed her mistress's hair.

"Your Highness… today was terrifying."

"Terrifying?" Xianlan tilted her head slightly, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"We servants… always thought you were quiet and reserved… We never imagined that when you struck back, it would be with such quiet ruthlessness."

Xianlan chuckled softly.

She raised her hand to take the comb, running it gently through her own hair in slow, graceful strokes.

"Silence, at times… thunders louder than words."

"Will you let this matter rest, Your Highness?"

The question lingered in the air for a breath.

Xianlan paused, thoughtful for but a moment, before replying in a calm, even tone:

"It may end in their eyes… but not in mine."

⸻

That very same night, across the palace grounds at the guest quarters of Nan Yan

Su Mengyu sat before a mirror, her face pale and drained of color.

She refused food. She allowed no one near.

Her maid approached hesitantly, whispering:

"My lady… the rumors… they're shifting."

"Some now say… that perhaps the one who left the scent in the Crown Prince's quarters… may not have been the Fourth Princess after all."

Su Mengyu pressed her lips into a tight line.

Her hands, resting upon her lap, curled into fists so tightly that her nails dug into her own flesh.

"Just a cup of tea… just a story… yet it shattered bone within the heart."

"Princess Xianlan… you are no ordinary woman."

"But the stronger you are… the more I must drag you down."

⸻

The following day,

Feng Yuhan entered the palace upon the Emperor's summons.

After paying his respects and presenting a formal report of his journey alongside the envoy, he excused himself and walked straight toward the inner gardens.

There, beneath the blossoming plum tree, stood Xianlan, her slender figure leaning against a carved pillar. Her face, serene and still, bathed gently in the late morning sun.

Her eyes closed briefly, as though she were listening to the rustling of leaves rather than the voices of men.

"Are you not weary yet?"

His voice drifted from behind her.

Xianlan opened her eyes and turned to face him, a faint smile gracing her lips.

"Weary… yes. But necessary."

Feng Yuhan gazed at her youthful face, now touched with a quiet, unwavering calm.

He stepped closer, his voice low and gentle.

"The rumors have died down."

"You need not do this. I will protect you."

Xianlan shook her head ever so slightly.

Her voice was soft but resolute.

"No… I do not wish for protection."

"Because on the day no one remains by my side, I must still be able to stand on my own."

Feng Yuhan fell silent.

He had encountered many women within these palace walls But never one who spoke in such a tone:

Tender, yet firm.

Sweet, yet unyielding.

"You are not merely a piece on the board…"

"You may well be a player one who forces me to make every move with greater care."

He paused, then spoke in a low, measured voice:

"Then… I shall set a new piece upon the board on one where you now stand."

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

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