As the first light of dawn broke on the horizon, the worn wooden gate of Yong Lane trembled, dust shaking loose from the sound of orderly footsteps.
A procession of eunuchs and palace maids, carrying new clothes, silks, and furnishings, arrived in a grand procession. The leading eunuch bowed respectfully, his tone entirely different from the usual indifference:
“Your servant pays respects to the Empress. By His Majesty’s decree—Her Majesty the Empress is to move to Changle Palace immediately!”
Empress!
This form of address was so official it brooked no doubt.
Su Yue froze on the spot, then reacted, tears of excitement falling as she grabbed Murong Zhao’s sleeve, her voice trembling: “Your Majesty! His Majesty has finally remembered you! We no longer have to stay in this wretched place! Changle Palace! That’s the palace closest to His Majesty!”
But Murong Zhao remained calm.
She simply stood by the window, gazing toward the courtyard gate, her dark eyes as still as water.
The figure in black from last night, the words “Move to Changle Palace tomorrow,” still lingered in her mind.
Why?
She had been pondering this question all along.
Not showing up on the wedding night, watching from afar during the tea ceremony, abandoning her in Yong Lane without a second thought—and then suddenly visiting late at night, watching her practice swordsmanship, and announcing she should move to Changle Palace?
Was it a test?
A manipulation?
Or… something else entirely?
Murong Zhao had thought about it all night but couldn’t figure it out.
But she knew one thing—in this deep palace, any sudden “favor” could be a trap.
“Su Yue, pack our things,” she withdrew her gaze, her tone calm. “Take what we should bring, leave what we shouldn’t.”
Su Yue was puzzled: “Your Majesty, what shouldn’t we bring?”
Murong Zhao glanced at the dilapidated room they had lived in for so long and said plainly, “Nothing from Yong Lane.”
Though she didn’t understand, Su Yue obediently complied.
As they made their way, palace servants cast sidelong glances, their eyes filled with surprise and flattery.
No one had expected that the Empress from Beishuo, who had been thrown into Yong Lane to await death, would be transferred to Changle Palace overnight!
Changle Palace was ten times more imposing than Yong Lane.
The courtyard was spacious, with carved beams and painted rafters, exquisitely furnished and opulent. Charcoal braziers were placed all around, filling the space with warmth and banishing any hint of winter chill.
The floor was covered with cloud-patterned brocade carpets, adorned with official kiln porcelain, and even the window curtains were made of high-quality silk embroidered with winding lotus vines.
Su Yue’s eyes widened in amazement as she touched and examined everything, as happy as if it were New Year: “Your Majesty! This place is wonderful! We’ll never have to suffer from cold or hunger again!”
But Murong Zhao wasn’t as excited.
She stood by the window, gazing thoughtfully toward the courtyard’s exterior.
Before long, the sound of orderly footsteps echoed from outside the courtyard.
Murong Zhao looked up to see a squad of Imperial Guard soldiers marching in formation. The leader was a man of sturdy build, with a resolute face and a faint scar at the corner of his eyebrow.
It was Wei Zhao.
Li Fuquan stepped forward with a smile and reported: “Your Majesty, His Majesty has ordered that, as Changle Palace has just been occupied, security must be strengthened. These guards have been transferred from the Imperial Guard’s Bing Squad and will be specifically responsible for patrolling the outer perimeter of Changle Palace, working in shifts day and night to ensure Your Majesty’s safety.”
He paused, pointing to Wei Zhao: “This is Commander Wei Zhao. His skills are exceptional, and His Majesty personally appointed him.”
Murong Zhao’s gaze fell on Wei Zhao, her heart giving a slight tremor.
The Imperial Guard’s Bing Squad.
Commander Wei.
Personally appointed by His Majesty.
She suddenly remembered a few days ago in Yong Lane, noticing that the guards around Yong Lane had been replaced, and among them was a familiar figure—she guessed at the time that it was arranged by Xiao Yan.
That was not the end, only the beginning.
That step was to have someone guarding her, so she wouldn’t be isolated and helpless.
This step was to have Wei Zhao directly enter Changle Palace, openly guarding her side.
Murong Zhao’s fingertips tightened slightly.
That man said nothing, asked nothing, yet arranged everything.
Wei Zhao stepped forward, knelt on one knee, clasped his fists in salute, his voice low and firm: “General Wei Zhao, under the Emperor’s command, leads Bing Squad to guard Changle Palace. From now on, I will spare no effort to protect Your Majesty’s safety.”
General.
Guard.
Openly.
Murong Zhao looked at the Imperial Guard armor he wore, at his straight back, and a complex emotion suddenly surged in her heart.
He was not a eunuch, not a shadow hiding in darkness afraid to be seen.
He was the Imperial Guard commander, a guard who could openly stand beside her.
Xiao Yan not only gave him identity, but also gave him dignity.
She remained silent for a moment, then softly said: “Rise.”
Wei Zhao stood up, retreated to one side, but his gaze remained alert, scanning the surroundings.
Murong Zhao turned, walked to the window, and looked toward the direction of the imperial study.
A man like Xiao Yan, deep in thought, decisive in action, never does anything without purpose.
Last night’s “Does it hurt?”, last night’s relocation order, and Wei Zhao’s arrangement…
It was definitely not a spur-of-the-moment decision.
What does he want?
What does she have worth his attention?
She, a discarded woman from the Cold Palace, with no support, no power, no influence, the only thing she has is this life.
Murong Zhao raised her hand, pressed it against her chest.
There, hidden was the short sword her mother left.
She suddenly remembered last night while practicing swordplay, that gaze falling upon her.
Heavy, deep, as if looking at something worth pondering.
Not looking at a woman, not looking at the Empress, but looking at something… that could be used?
Murong Zhao’s eyes flickered slightly.
Tool.
Yes, just a tool.
That man, looking at her, not like looking at a favored consort, but like looking at something… that could be used.
Murong Zhao suddenly laughed softly.
Can be used.
Good.
Being used is better than being discarded.
In this deep palace, the worst fear is uselessness.
She lifted her gaze, looked toward the direction of the imperial study, her dark eyes calm like water.
“From today onward—”
“I, Murong Zhao, am no longer that Empress forgotten in Yong Lane, who would die unnoticed.”
In this deep palace chess game, she finally, officially entered the board.
And what she didn’t know was, at this moment in the imperial study, Xiao Yan was also looking toward Changle Palace.
What he thought was not what she could do for him.
What he thought was—what was she doing? What was she thinking? Was she cold?
These thoughts, he himself hadn’t noticed.
But they were there, like the moonlight in Yong Lane that night, silently falling.
He remembered again her appearance practicing swordplay last night, remembered her saying “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” remembered her calm, water-like eyes.
He told himself, moving her to Changle Palace was to make her an ally, to clean up those spies in the inner palace, to deal with the Empress Dowager.
These were all true.
But the voice in his heart grew clearer—
You just, want to be closer to her.
Li Fuquan cautiously inquired from the side, "Your Majesty, Changle Palace has been settled. Would you like to go and see?"
Xiao Yan remained silent for a moment, then shook his head.
"No rush. Let her catch her breath first."
Thinking of the guard commander he had assigned to her, the corners of his lips curled slightly.
Someone capable of handling matters deserved a little reward.
He had brought Wei Zhao from the shadows into the light, giving him the legitimate identity of a guard commander—both to assist her and to put her at ease.
To let her know—someone was watching over her, someone was willing to back her up.
Only then could she settle into the situation willingly and serve his purposes wholeheartedly.
Xiao Yan’s lips curved slightly.
She should understand this little gesture of goodwill.
Inside Cining Palace, Liu Momo was reporting, "Empress Dowager, Changle Palace has been quite lively today. After that one moved in, she remained neither arrogant nor impatient, showing no sign of joy on her face, simply going about her business as usual. His Majesty even specially dispatched a squad of the Imperial Guard for protection, led by someone named Wei Zhao. I heard he was transferred from the Bing Squad."
The hand holding the prayer beads paused slightly.
"Imperial Guard protection?" she repeated softly, a flicker of something strange passing through her eyes. "For an Empress moving palaces, is there a need to specially dispatch the Imperial Guard?"
Liu Momo replied cautiously, "Empress Dowager, what do you mean…"
The Empress Dowager waved her hand, her gaze fixed in the direction of Changle Palace, her eyes deep and thoughtful. "The Emperor is… backing her up."
"How interesting."