Rebirth of the Phoenix Empress

The resounding boom of the triple-layered ceremonial drums echoed across the marble courtyard before the throne hall. Ministers, donned in their full regalia, stood in rows according to their rank. Some stood tall with pride, while others subtly darted glances toward the towering palace doors awaiting the envoy from the kingdom of Jianrong.

Midmorning sunlight filtered through gauzy drapes above the palace balcony, casting flickering shadows of tree leaves across the white stone floor. The wind stirred the banners of the gathered kingdoms, each fluttering as though whispering an unspoken tension to all who stood there.

Jianrong the central realm, neither wealthy nor militarily formidable was, nonetheless, the bridge between the lands of the north and south.

It claimed no allegiance.

It sought no conquest.

But its stance of neutrality had made it a power all others were forced to respect.

The drums fell silent just as the sound of footsteps crossed the palace threshold.

The delegation entered in a graceful procession. At its head marched a male official robed in embroidered gold silk.

Yet the eyes of the entire court did not settle on him…

They turned inevitably, undeniably to the woman behind him.

She walked with elegance, clad in pale blue silk woven with glinting silver peonies that shimmered as they caught the light. Her face was a masterpiece serene and flawless. Her eyes gleamed like dew on orchid petals. Her brows arched as though drawn by a master's ink brush. Her lips held the faint tint of rose without a trace of pigment. Her poise rivaled that of generals, and she moved like one who had never once bowed to the world.

"Jiang Xinluo… Special Envoy of the Kingdom of Jianrong."

The imperial eunuch's voice rang loud and clear through the great hall, silencing the whispering court in a single breath.

A hush swept through the chamber, lingering for the space of one heartbeat.

It wasn't merely the fact that this year's envoy was a woman.

It was that… she appeared far too young to carry the weight of inter-kingdom diplomacy.

"Such a woman… is no mere beauty. She is surely a flower laced with poison."

Xianlan thought to herself.

Her expression did not shift, yet her eyes, calm as still water, hid the undercurrents beneath.

The name Jiang Xinluo was not unfamiliar to Xianlan.

She remembered well… years ago, this same woman had once entered the Li Palace under the guise of a "Seamstress of Goodwill."

At that event, she had drawn dangerously close to Feng Yuhan.

Too close for someone of her supposed rank.

A single step from guest to threat.

And though she had departed without a trace or word… the instinctive unease she left behind had never truly faded from Xianlan's memory.

The ceremonial gong rang again as the delegation stepped into the throne room. Senior officials rose to their feet in unison, offering due respect.

"Long live Your Majesty."

Jiang Xinluo bowed smoothly. Her ink-black hair slipped over one cheek like an ink wash in an ancient scroll. Her bow was neither too deep to appear submissive, nor too shallow to be insolent. It was perfect

A gesture that declared: I am not beneath you. I stand beside you.

The Emperor of the Li Kingdom observed in silence, his gaze calm Yet unmistakably lingering longer than usual upon the envoy from afar.

"Hmm… This year's envoy from Jianrong appears rather different from years past."

"I, Jiang Xinluo, come to serve as a representative of peace and harmony between our realms, Your Majesty."

Her voice was soft, yet rich with depth

Like silk over jade, it did not cut the ear, but rather… seduced it, drawing the listener in with every syllable.

Behind the folds of their sleeves, murmurs stirred among the court's male officials.

"Such a remarkable envoy…"

"One wonders—who exactly is Jiang Xinluo in the Kingdom of Jianrong?"

Meanwhile, not far from the throne, another woman remained seated. She neither smiled nor feigned surprise.

Xianlan sat in a quiet corner reserved for imperial princesses. She wore a gown of soft ivory silk, embroidered faintly with drifting silver clouds—so subtle, one had to look twice to notice the craftsmanship, like mist dancing across fabric.

Her eyes were fixed on Jiang Xinluo.

Not because of beauty

But because of something… in her gaze.

Her eyes were not like those of other women.

They did not shine with innocence.

They reflected light back like a mirror trained to read the secrets of all who stared into it.

"I've seen you before… in the Eastern Pavilion."

"Then, you were a seamstress."

"But today… you are a herald of unrest."

So thought Xianlan.

Yet her face remained unmoved serene, like snow atop a distant mountain, untouched by storm or flame.

⸻

Scene transition: The Lotus Garden Tea Gathering

Late morning, on the same day

The sacred lotus garden behind the Chenlan Palace had been adorned with exquisite care. Gravel paths wound their way toward a hexagonal pavilion at the heart of the lotus pond, where long stone tables bore fragrant cups of freshly steeped lotus tea. A delicate floral aroma drifted gently in the summer breeze.

Elegant female attendants moved gracefully, balancing porcelain cups as they served each guest. Handmaids from the palace flitted between tables, offering an array of seasonal fruits and delicate tea cakes without pause.

Jiang Xinluo sat but one seat removed from Xianlan, yet had offered no greeting since her arrival.

Still, when she lifted her teacup for the first sip… her gaze moved unwavering to meet Xianlan's eyes.

"I have heard the emperor has but one daughter graceful, modest, and sharp of mind…"

Jiang Xinluo spoke softly, wasting no time on pretense or pleasantry.

"Now that I have seen her, I know the rumors were not the least exaggerated."

Xianlan offered a faint smile.

She set her teacup down upon its saucer with a gentle clink a sound so soft, yet it sharpened the tension hanging in the air like a silk thread drawn taut.

"And you are quite the remarkable figure yourself," she replied smoothly.

"I believe I must add your name to the list of those one should never overlook."

Polite words… veiled with warning.

Like a whisper behind a fan: I see you more clearly than you think.

Jiang Xinluo laughed lightly a sound like silver bells stirred by a breeze.

Clear, yet not innocent.

Melodic, yet far from pure.

"Indeed… it must be a rather long list by now," she said without lowering her gaze.

"Especially the names of women who draw near to the Crown Prince… from other kingdoms."

The words glided forth like a blade wrapped in satin gentle on the surface, yet sharp where it mattered.

It was not only Xianlan she sought to provoke,

but the bond between Xianlan and Feng Yuhan a bond unspoken in words,

yet undeniable in every glance and breath.

—

When the tea gathering came to an end,

the sun had sunk low enough to cast long shadows of bamboo over the wooden walkways.

Xianlan returned to her palace with Ah-Ru, her devoted handmaid since childhood.

Neither spoke a word.

Both knew the scent of suspicion from the gathering still lingered as if it had seeped into the very air between them.

Footsteps echoed behind them light, but deliberate.

"Princess… might I walk with you?"

Jiang Xinluo's voice called from behind.

Xianlan turned slowly, meeting her with an unreadable expression.

No surprise.

No hostility.

Only the slightest nod of her head.

"You may."

Jiang Xinluo matched her pace, unhurried.

Her embroidered slippers barely made a sound upon the wooden planks as if she had long trained her steps to mimic the silence of shadows.

Ah-Ru narrowed her eyes at the envoy, watching intently.

But after a breath, she stepped aside, wordless, leaving the two women to walk alone.

Filtered light fell through the arched bamboo overhead,

casting flickering shadows upon their path.

At times bright.

At others, dim and distorted as if they walked through the warped reflection of a looking glass.

"I dislike needless pretense,"

Jiang Xinluo spoke first, her voice low but steady.

Xianlan kept her eyes ahead. She did not respond.

"And I suspect… you feel the same,"

the envoy continued, her tone strangely firm.

"I did not come here to flirt, nor to curry favor."

"Then why are you here?"

Xianlan asked coolly, never breaking stride.

"…To survive."

The answer came without hesitation.

"I am a woman raised in a world where a single lapse in wit could see you used as a pawn."

"A world written by men leaves no place for women unless she builds it upon the corpses of others."

"And I've chosen not to die.

I've chosen to live—by whatever means necessary."

Xianlan faltered, just slightly.

Then turned her head to study the woman beside her this foreign envoy cloaked in silk and secrets.

"Sounds intriguing… But I'm not someone who survives by stepping over corpses."

"Nor do I enjoy stepping on them,"

Jiang Xinluo turned her gaze to meet hers squarely.

"But if someone pushes me to the ground… I won't hesitate to drag them down with me."

Those words lingered in the air like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath,

suspending the atmosphere in stillness for a breath's span.

Xianlan resumed her steps, speaking in an even voice.

"If it's survival you seek… don't count on me."

"And if you intend to destroy me… be certain you won't miss."

The footsteps behind her halted.

Jiang Xinluo watched the princess's retreating back in silence.

Her face, once adorned with a faint smile, now held a contemplative shadow.

Then she gave a soft laugh.

"Princess Xianlan… You're nothing like the reports described."

Xianlan did not reply.

She simply raised one hand to gather her long hair from her shoulder,

and the slant of her face caught the waning sunlight as if carved from winter stone, cold yet luminous.

"And what, according to your reports… was I supposed to be?"

"Sweet. Sheltered. Lacking wit. Dependent on the favor of men."

That drew a quiet chuckle from Xianlan low and wry.

"Then someone is about to regret a grave miscalculation."

⸻

Beneath a distant tree,

a shadow leaned against one of the round wooden pillars of the lotus pavilion.

A breeze stirred the hem of his dark cloak the figure of Feng Yuhan.

He hadn't meant to eavesdrop.

And yet…

the words exchanged between the two women had held him fast from the very first syllable.

He didn't know why Jiang Xinluo had revealed her hand so early.

And he didn't understand… why Xianlan hadn't cast her aside from the start.

"Two women. Two wills.

One, a thorn wrapped in petals the other, a petal hiding thorns."

"If the day ever comes when those blades turn toward each other…

this palace may well become a field of blood."

Feng Yuhan flexed his fingers slowly.

He feared no one in this palace.

Not even those who had once tried more than once to assassinate him.

But there was one thing he remained ever watchful of…

"Xianlan… may not be merely a player on the board."

"She is crafting a new board altogether—one piece at a time."

⸻

That night,

a half-moon hung serenely over the curved rooftops of the Inner Court.

A winter breeze swept through, ringing the wind chimes softly a whisper against the sound of turning pages in the dimly lit study of Jiang Xinluo.

She sat alone, bathed in the golden flicker of an oil lamp.

In her hand—an unrolled map of the Nan'yan imperial court,

and secret missives sent from the Kingdom of Jianrong.

The document read:

"Princess Xianlan. Weak. Exiled from her homeland. No faction to support her. A liability within the Nan'yan Court."

"If one can gain access to the Crown Prince through this woman, it will open the path to the heart of power."

Jiang Xinluo once believed that.

Until she looked into that woman's eyes in the lotus garden.

Until she heard those fearless words on the wooden balcony.

"…Don't count on me.

And if you wish to destroy me be sure not to miss."

The words echoed still, long after the hour had passed.

She knew well who she was:

A spy from Jianrong.

Trained to persuade, to seduce, to manipulate and, when required…to kill.

But on this night,

something… shifted.

Something stirred a thing that should not have existed in the heart of a spy.

"I will not be a corpse so easily claimed."

Xianlan's voice had thorns laced through every syllable,

piercing through the steel walls that once guarded her mind.

Jiang Xinluo shut her eyes tightly, then rose to her feet.

She stepped out onto the balcony,

tilting her head upward toward a sky without stars.

The winter wind struck, fierce and cold,

sending her thin cloak billowing behind her.

Yet it wasn't the wind that chilled her most it was the realization…

That the woman who was supposed to be a mere pawn

might be a player,

who had been gazing into the depths of her soul all along.

⸻

The following morning,

in a secluded stone courtyard within the diplomat's compound

The wooden door creaked open softly.

A woman, clad in robes that blurred the line between male and female form,

stepped quietly toward Jiang Xinluo.

Without a word, she dropped to one knee and offered a small folded slip of paper.

Jiang Xinluo unfolded it.

The handwriting was clean, deliberate.

The message brief. Precise.

But it cut deeper than any blade.

"Your first move failed.

And the bird you've caught… may be a hawk cloaked as a swan."

Feng Yuhan

Her fingers clenched around the paper.

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

And in the hollows of her chest,

came the sudden awareness that this game was no longer hers to command.

"A swan that soars above the tiger…

is no ordinary swan."

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

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