Rebirth of the Phoenix Empress

The central hall of the imperial palace, used for training in court etiquette during the winter season, was quieter than usual.

Fresh snow from the night before still clung to the edges of the eaves, and the gray silhouettes of bare trees stretched across smooth stone walls. A slow, cold breeze drifted in, carrying with it the soft rustle of embroidered silk brushing against polished wood, the sound lingering in the moist winter air.

Today… was no ordinary training day.

Every woman present knew the "observer" coming today was no ordinary guest.

"My lady, did you hear? Prince Su Yeyan will be gracing the hall himself today,"

one maid whispered softly as she helped the young Lady Wang adjust her hairpin.

"Truly? I've never heard of His Highness taking interest in such affairs…" another murmured, dabbing her fingertips with a cloth stained faintly with thread dye.

"Well, perhaps someone has finally proven 'interesting enough' to draw his eye."

"You don't mean… the Fourth Princess?"

"Shh! Mind your voice!"

Whispers rippled like water through the cold pavilion.

And the more the silence pressed in, the louder those whispers echoed inside certain hearts.

At the eastern corner of the training hall, Xianlan sat alone. The late morning sunlight cast its glow across one half of her figure, leaving the other steeped in shadow.

She wore a robe of pale silver-gray silk, embroidered with white plum blossoms. The pattern was simple yet exquisitely refined her needlework neat and closely stitched, yet soft, like a thin sheet of ice rippling across the surface of a lake.

Her slender fingers moved steadily with the needle, undisturbed by the murmurs or glances from others around her.

She cared not who came.

For to her, every space was a stage, and every stage deserved her best performance whether there was an audience or not.

⸻

Footsteps echoed measured, deliberate entering the hall.

The whispers ceased at once.

A tall figure stepped into view, clad in a long cloak of black silk edged in gold.

His form was graceful, his features sharp and cold. Eyes the color of obsidian bore no reflection.

He did not need to smile his very steps weighed down the air like a silent enchantment.

Su Yeyan,

Second Prince of the Southern Kingdom, son of Noble Consort Su Zhen.

Each of his movements seemed trained to reflect only calm refinement.

Yet within his eyes, a blade lay hidden beneath layers of silk.

He paused before the ladies' training tables, his gaze sweeping across the room without revealing a thought.

Then his eyes halted at the eastern corner, where Xianlan sat alone.

For a fleeting instant, his cool gaze shifted.

And then, without revealing emotion, the corner of his lips curved slightly in the faintest of smiles.

"It has been some time, little sister," he said, his voice deep and composed.

It wasn't loud but it carried easily through the silence, striking every ear with clarity.

Xianlan looked up slightly, her eyes as calm as before.

She rose with poise, bowing with perfect decorum.

"Greetings, Your Highness," she said softly, yet with unwavering strength.

"This piece… is your work?" he asked, leaning slightly to examine the embroidery on her frame.

"Yes. I found myself thinking of the drapes in my mother's quarters…

So I attempted to recreate the pattern from memory."

That word "my mother" cast a sudden hush across the room.

Consort Yi Fei…

A name rarely spoken within these palace walls especially not in the presence of Noble Consort Su Zhen's son.

But Xianlan spoke it calmly, evenly.

And Su Yeyan showed no change in expression, only letting his gaze linger longer on the fabric, as though pondering something unseen.

⸻

At that very moment, light footsteps approached from behind.

A gentle voice floated in sweet, measured, perfectly timed.

"Your Highness… I, Su Mengyu, humbly offer you some tea."

Her voice flowed with such delicate grace that to the unknowing ear, it might have passed as the gentleness of a refined maiden.

But to Xianlan, it was colder than the winter air surrounding them.

Su Mengyu, dressed in a soft pink silk robe threaded with hints of lilac, stepped forward with measured elegance. Her hair was half-pinned with a pearl-inlaid hairpiece, styled with deliberate poise.

In her slender hands, she carried a silver tea tray, approaching Su Yeyan without awaiting permission.

"I noticed Your Highness had arrived," she spoke sweetly, lowering into a perfect curtsey.

"And wished to offer a cup of tea as a gesture of respect."

Her eyes were lowered, but the corner of her gaze lingered upon Xianlan calculated and unwavering.

Su Yeyan accepted the cup as courtesy demanded, his expression unchanged, save for a fleeting glint of observation in his gaze.

Su Mengyu laughed softly, as though merely observing polite custom, but there was a subtle edge beneath her tone.

"What a coincidence, Your Highness… I, too, brought a piece of my embroidery for today's session.

If it pleases you, may I present it for your comparison alongside the one we saw earlier?"

Silence fell swiftly over the hall.

The women seated behind exchanged discreet glances, but no one dared interrupt.

Xianlan lifted her face slightly, her eyes calm as ever.

Yet her fingers pressing against the silk frame tightened, just a little.

Silent… but not submissive.

Su Mengyu raised her own cloth a pink-gold fabric embroidered with a silver phoenix in flight.

The pattern was striking, its threads vivid and ornate. But when placed beside Xianlan's pale silver silk with its soft white plum blossoms, the difference lay not in the color or stitch…but in the feeling it evoked.

Su Mengyu's embroidery like a phoenix in ceremonial flight.

Xianlan's like mountain mist in the hush of winter.

Su Yeyan studied both carefully, his eyes drifting from the grand soaring phoenix to the blossoms blooming quietly in the gray.

He offered no explicit praise.

But when he spoke next, the weight of his words settled like snowfall.

"Both pieces… carry different intentions," he said.

"One seeks beauty, hoping to be seen. The other chooses simplicity so it may be remembered."

The stillness that followed was almost palpable.

Though no name was mentioned, all present knew well who was "one"… and who was the "other."

But the heaviest thing of all was the way Su Yeyan's gaze lingered upon Xianlan's embroidery, longer than a single breath.

He needn't offer praise.

That single moment was enough to make someone feel… defeated.

Su Mengyu lowered into another graceful bow, her smile barely touched by grace.

"Your Highness has a discerning eye. I shall remember your words as guidance for my practice."

But within her her fingers tightened around the fan she held, knuckles turning pale.

For a fleeting moment, her heart stumbled, as though she had been slapped without sound.

⸻

After the training had ended, Xianlan left the hall in quiet stride.

The afternoon sky had grown veiled with drifting gray clouds, and the pale sunlight spilled across the silk cloth in her hands like a fading memory not forgotten, but softened with time.

Footsteps approached from behind, steady and unmistakable.

Xianlan did not need to turn to know who it was.

The subtle scent of the unique oil Su Yeyan used on his robes had long since engraved itself in her memory.

"You still embroider… just like when you were a child,"

he said, voice low and laced with memory.

Xianlan slowed her pace, her eyes unmoved.

"Thank you… for remembering."

Su Yeyan fell into step beside her, their strides naturally aligned.

Tall and poised, his presence radiated quiet command a kind of pressure that required no words.

"I recall once… you gave me a piece of cloth," he murmured.

"Silver, with gray plum blossoms…"

"You said it would stay by me whenever the cold returned."

His deep voice caught faintly on the edge of something unspoken as though holding back a sentiment that had no place in the present.

Xianlan fell silent for a moment before she spoke softly.

"I truly believed that once… until the day that cloth was torn before my very eyes."

"Do you remember? One day, in the palace hall… a noble lady picked it up and said, 'Trash has no place among the high.'"

Su Yeyan stopped abruptly.

The icy composure that usually cloaked his gaze faltered flickering with something faintly shaken.

"…You remember all that?"

"There are some things," Xianlan replied, voice even, though her eyes betrayed a quiet ache, "that no number of winters can ever fade."

"So I made another piece embroidered with needles honed like thorns."

"To let them know… that even silence bears barbs."

Su Yeyan looked at her in stillness, as though trying to peer through the calm to the guarded heart within. And yet he said nothing more than

"I prefer it this way."

The words were brief, but the weight behind them halted even the breeze.

Xianlan gave the faintest of smiles not quite acceptance, not quite refusal yet within her chest, her heart stirred once… before she reined it back in.

⸻

Elsewhere in the garden,

Su Mengyu stood beneath the shade of the trees, her hand clenching the fan so tightly her fingers had turned pale.

Her eyes fixed on the two figures standing side by side.

She could not hear what was being said but the gestures… were enough.

She was no fool.

She needed no words of praise to understand.

Su Yeyan had never gazed at anyone for that long.

The frost in her eyes slowly gave way to a quiet flame burning in her chest.

The lips that once curved with grace were now pressed into a thin line, the inner flesh bitten until nearly bloodied.

"…If he sees her as a phoenix…"

"Then I shall make that bird a demon in disguise.

Let the entire imperial court see her for what she is."

She inhaled deeply and then smiled again but it was no longer the smile of a gentle maiden.

It was the smile of a hunter waiting for the perfect strike.

⸻

The soft sound of water trickling from the ornamental stream beside the Noble Consort's pavilion filled the night air, lending Su Rong Hall a dreamlike serenity.

Moonlight spilled across the glazed roof tiles, casting a silver sheen.

The faint scent of cinnamon mingled with the delicate aroma of incense woven into Su Mengyu's hair.

She sat before Noble Consort Su Zhen, her face composed, serene as ever.

Yet in her eyes shimmered the gleam of quiet scheming.

"The Prince… spoke with her for quite some time,"

Mengyu said evenly, every word measured with care.

The Noble Consort lifted her tall tea cup with grace,

those slender eyes beneath long lashes glinting with a light that even candle flames could not catch.

"If she has truly begun to soften Yeyan's heart…"

her voice low, almost like a lull,

"…what will you do?"

Su Mengyu fell silent for a beat before resting her fan gently upon her lap.

Her slender fingers smoothed the hem of the silk fan as though she were stroking the throat of an enemy in her mind.

"If they've all begun to forget who Xianlan truly is…"

"…then it's time they all remembered her wrongly."

"I'll be the one to ignite the question of her bloodline anew."

"And let the fire consume her… entirely."

The Noble Consort let out a low, amused laugh,

a sound like pearls brushing gently together.

"Amusing… but on what grounds? You have no evidence."

"I don't need any," Mengyu replied, smiling.

"All it takes… is for someone to ask."

⸻

The following night

A court maid slipped a narrow scroll into a folded letter, then discreetly placed it among the documents bound for the Grand Dowager's residence.

There was no name.

Only one brief question.

"The Fourth Princess whose child is she, really?"

⸻

By dawn, the ripples had begun to spread.

"Did you know… Consort Yi Fei wasn't of noble birth?"

"Some say she once lived as a courtesan… from the western quarter."

"If that's true… then Her Highness' bloodline"

"Hush! Are you mad? Watch your tongue!"

But whispers, once loosed, only multiplied the more they were silenced.

Su Mengyu merely sat and listened, a delicate smile playing on her lips as her maid whispered the palace gossip into her ear. 

Her eyes calm. Her smile just shy of satisfied.

"We're not done yet… You haven't suffered enough."

⸻

That same evening

Feng Yuhan strode into Hua Lan Pavilion without sending word.

Soft lantern light glowed along the corridor, casting golden shadows.

When he entered the inner chamber, he found Xianlan standing by the window, her hands clasped behind her back.

She did not turn to look at him, only spoke in a calm voice.

"You're half a day late…"

Feng Yuhan's brow furrowed.

"You knew already?"

"Rumors spread through this palace faster than fire…

Yet always a breath slower than a command from above."

"And you never issued a single word to stop it."

"I am not the master of this palace,"

he replied, voice cooled by frustration.

"But you are the Crown Prince,"

Xianlan turned to face him directly,

"So why not use that power to silence the slander?"

He paused.

Then, with a voice lower than before, eyes darker, he said

"Because I wanted to see how you would respond."

Xianlan let out a quiet laugh.

A joyless, hollow laugh.

"Then watch closely,"

"and see if the phoenix they drove from the skies will choose to burn down the entire cage."

Feng Yuhan stepped closer to her.

"What if I were the one who didn't want you to fall?"

"What if I tried to hold you back… would you stay?"

Xianlan's eyes flickered.

But in the end, her answer came softly.

"Perhaps I would…"

"But I would never forget who pushed me in the first place."

⸻

Two days later

Upon the once-silent wall of the Imperial Records Hall,

a new list was quietly posted the names of the current maids and attendants of the Inner Palace.

No one seemed to notice.

No one spoke a word.

But there was one name Quietly reinserted into the records under the category: "Former attendants of Consort Yi Fei's residence", a section long forgotten and untouched, like a sealed memory.

Her name was Madam Wang Xiu

A woman who had vanished from the palace following the "sudden illness" of Consort Yi Fei over a decade ago.

Now…

She had returned.

⸻

In the stillness of Hua Lan Pavilion,

Xianlan stood before a sheer curtain, her gaze sharp and unmoving like water in a pond left undisturbed for years.

Behind her, Jiang Xinluo bowed deeply to deliver her report.

"All proceeds as Your Highness predicted…"

"The registrar from the Inner Archives confirmed that Madam Wang Xiu's name had been removed from the system fifteen years ago."

"However, a mirrored copy of the original record still remains in the Left Court's secret archives."

Xianlan smiled faintly.

Not with satisfaction

But with the quiet knowing of one who senses the sky cracking open, ready for the phoenix to rise again.

"I will not speak," she said softly.

"But I will turn my silence… into a voice the entire court must hear."

⸻

The next morning,

An official edict from the Inner Court announced a special event:

A Ceremony of Remembrance for the Women of the Past allegedly a revival of traditions, inviting former palace maids to speak of the departed ladies of the inner chambers.

The scent of incense lingered within the wooden hall.

Seated quietly in the center was Madam Wang Xiu,

her aged garments worn with dignity,

her hair a soft cloud of white,

her eyes dimmed with time but her voice… clear and unwavering.

"Consort Yi Fei… was never a woman of lowly origin."

"She was the daughter of a noble house in Xuan Yu."

"I myself once saw the imperial jade crest hidden beneath her sleeping robe."

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the gathering.

Su Mengyu's face paled, while the fan in Noble Consort Su Zhen's hand snapped harder struggling to contain her composure.

"But one day… someone laced her nightly tonic with poison."

"She fell ill, and I was cast from the palace that very night. Forbidden to speak ever again."

Tears rolled down the old woman's cheeks as though she had waited a lifetime for this very moment.

⸻

The story echoed through the palace like a wind at dusk,

soft… yet impossible to ignore.

That very afternoon,

the voice of the imperial eunuch rang through the grand court:

"Your Majesty… a formal petition has been submitted, requesting the reconsideration of Consort Yi Fei's honor based on newly surfaced testimony and long-lost documentation…"

The Emperor said nothing.

But his gaze… shifted.

And in that moment,

he looked directly at the daughter he had long cast aside.

She sat in silence.

Composed.

Radiant.

Eyes steady not seeking mercy,

but burning with the resolve of one who sought only…Justice.

⸻

That night,

within the Crown Prince's temporary quarters, all was quiet.

Feng Yuhan stood at the window, his obsidian eyes fixed on the moon above.

Then came the soft sound of footsteps behind him.

"Still awake?"

Xianlan's voice reached him gently.

He turned to face her, silence heavy between them.

"You've won," he said quietly.

"…But this victory… brings me no joy."

Xianlan was silent for a moment,

then replied slowly

"Sometimes… the victor stands atop the ashes of truths once crushed beneath the weight of silence."

"And sometimes… those ashes burn hot enough to scar even the one who stands above them."

Feng Yuhan nodded slightly.

His voice dropped, almost hesitant.

"…If one day the fire consumes you for real…"

"…Would you allow me to put it out?"

Xianlan gave him a faint smile.

"If you wish to help…"

"Then you must be ready to extinguish the flames engulfing the entire palace."

"Because I will not put out the fire…

until every shadow steps into the light."

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

*********************************************************************************************************

✨ Thank you for reading this chapter of Rebirth of the Phoenix Empress!If you're enjoying Xianlan's journey, please add this story to your Library, leave a comment, or tap a heart 💖 your support truly fuels the fire!