Rebirth of the Phoenix Empress

The spring breeze still drifted gently across the palace grounds, its tender fingers weaving through the early morning mist. The faint scent of blooming flora clung to the cool air, brushing softly against the tip of one's nose like a subtle reminder that a new day had begun. Yet within the once lively residence of Princess Bai Yue Ning—a place that had once echoed with laughter, the rustle of silk, and the light footsteps of maids—the silence was unnaturally deep. So absolute, in fact, that the mere rustling of leaves had become the only sign that life still lingered there.

Filtered sunlight seeped in through the pale curtains, casting soft golden rays onto the chamber that had once brimmed with the fragrances of southern incense and exotic flowers. Now, those scents had faded, leaving behind only the musty aroma of old wood and neglected medicine—quiet symbols of abandonment.

Clad in a silk robe embroidered with pale rose vines, Bai Yue Ning walked slowly along the gravel path in the garden she once tended with her own hands. Her movements were graceful and measured, her hands folded properly before her, but her face—once the very image of noble poise—was colder than it ought to be for a woman said to be recuperating.

"Soon... the peach trees will bloom," she murmured, pausing beneath the oldest tree in the courtyard. Petals had just begun to peek through the budding branches, their soft pink hue a promise of warmth and rebirth. But none of it reached her eyes, which remained dull and distant.

"I thought I had moved every piece perfectly…" she whispered, voice nearly swallowed by the wind. "But I forgot—some players never stepped onto the board."

Her feet led her to the windowsill where a delicate glass pot once cradled a rare breed of rose imported from distant lands. The petals were now dry and brittle, their color faded to a lifeless gray. No fragrance remained.

She stared at it for a long while, thoughts swirling like mist. The humiliation from that ill-fated banquet still lingered. The plan had been meticulous—just enough sleeping potion to tarnish Xian Lan's name before the royal eyes. Yet somehow, it ended up in Prince Su Yan's cup instead.

A flawless scheme, unraveled like wet parchment—fragile, torn by a single breath.

"Who… Who betrayed me?" she breathed.

Closing her eyes, she was met with a storm of questions—most unanswered, yet one rising louder than the rest. Somewhere in her network, someone had betrayed her.

This was not merely the failure of a single plot. It was a calculated exile from power, wrapped in the guise of 'convalescence'. Her health was fine—sharp enough still to swing a blade.

Footsteps interrupted her brooding—soft, hesitant. A maid.

"Your Highness… you shouldn't stay out in the wind so long."

"I am not ill," Bai Yue Ning replied calmly. "I am merely being kept behind the curtain so others may dance freely upon the stage."

The maid bowed low, words dying on her lips.

"Have you heard…" Bai Yue Ning turned slowly, eyes locked on the withered rose. "A rose, no matter how beautiful, if it bears no scent… it will never linger in anyone's heart for long."

She fell silent for a moment, then whispered, like a curse.

"And whoever dares pluck my petals—I'll make sure it cuts their hand, for the rest of their life."

…

At the Moonshade Residence

Sunlight pooled gently over the surface of a wooden writing desk in the stillness of a quiet study. The room stood serene, untouched by the noise and turmoil of the world beyond its walls.

There, amidst the hush, sat Xian Lan. Before her lay a worn leather-bound journal—once belonging to her late mother, Concubine Yu Fei—filled with poems and passages that breathed life into memories long past.

Her slender fingers turned the pages with care, each stroke of ink faded by time. But the final page stood apart.

No sentimental prose, no records of daily musings—only an unfamiliar pattern of geometric symbols, drawn with deliberate symmetry.

Xian Lan's brows knit slightly, her dark eyes narrowing on the markings as she muttered under her breath, "This isn't a woman's diary… It's a cipher. A dying message—left by someone who knew a dangerous secret."

She paused, then rose to retrieve a brush from the calligraphy rack. With practiced grace, she traced the symbols slowly, one line at a time. Gradually, the lines converged—until a single image emerged:

A lotus in bloom, floating on water. Clear. Hidden in plain sight all along.

The sliding door opened with the faintest sound. Jiang Xin Luo entered, her footsteps as silent as drifting snow.

"I know that lotus," she said softly but firmly. "It was once used as a code by the southern intelligence network."

Xian Lan looked up, locking eyes with her. Her expression sharpened, questions brimming.

"Who do you think disappeared… after Yu Fei's death?"

She drew another sheet from an aged leather pouch—a document listing palace attendants. Most names were faded, but one had clearly been erased. A handmaid. No leave. No death record. No trace in the registry.

"No ordinary woman just disappears from the royal palace," Xian Lan murmured.

Jiang Xin Luo stepped closer. Her eyes were calm, but something flickered within them—an old memory rising unbidden.

"She might still be alive… or if dead, then she died with secrets."

"Secrets my mother… entrusted to her," Xian Lan said.

Outside, the creeping vines stirred faintly in the breeze. Within the quiet shadows of the Moonshade Residence, silence returned once more.

But both women knew—deep in their bones—that the shadow of someone long hidden was about to be pulled back into the light, along with truths that could no longer remain buried.

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