Three days later, the sky cleared, though the accumulated snow had not yet melted. Sunlight fell upon the city walls, reflecting a blinding white. The marriage alliance procession finally arrived at the capital of Dayin—Jinyang.
From a distance, a majestic ancient city loomed over the plains, its imposing presence overwhelming the sky. Towering walls built from bluestone stretched endlessly, with layers upon layers of palaces. Golden tiles and glazed roofs shimmered under the sunlight, grander than the Beishuo imperial palace by at least threefold.
Murong Zhao gently lifted the carriage curtain, her cool gaze falling upon that colossal structure, her heart trembling slightly.
This was Dayin.
This was the place where she would live out her future.
Beside the carriage, Wei Zhao rode alongside on horseback. His wounds had not yet healed, his face still pale, yet he forced himself to rise and guard the carriage side step by step, like the most loyal shadow.
"Princess, the situation in the Yin Kingdom is far more complex than Beishuo…" Wei Zhao lowered his voice. "After entering the inner palace, the Empress Dowager will surely try to intimidate you. You must be extremely careful."
Murong Zhao nodded slightly.
Careful?
For eighteen years in the Cold Palace, she had trodden carefully, reading expressions and discerning intentions—skills long etched into her very bones.
Schemes, plots, and covert schemes—she had seen far too many.
It was merely stepping from one Cold Palace into another, larger, more perilous, and more devouring cage.
Fear?
She had long forgotten how.
Wei Zhao paused, then added, "There is one more thing—the rules of the Dayin inner palace are strict. Male guards are not permitted to enter. I fear… I cannot accompany you, Princess. But rest assured, I will find a way. However, in these first few days after entering the palace, you will have to face everything alone."
Murong Zhao remained silent for a moment, then nodded gently. "Take care of yourself."
"Yes."
The procession slowly approached the main gate of the imperial palace, where officials from the Ministry of Rites had long been waiting.
The leader, dressed in a blue official robe, wore an arrogant expression, his eyes filled with contempt for a defeated nation. He glanced over Murong Zhao's simple procession and plain wedding attire, a trace of disdain curling at the corner of his mouth.
"The princess from Beishuo?" His tone was cold, not even bothering to bow. "Her Majesty the Empress Dowager awaits in Cining Palace. Follow me."
His attitude was haughty, devoid of any respect.
Su Yue’s face paled with anger, but she dared not act out, only looking at Murong Zhao with grievance.
Wei Zhao’s eyes turned cold, his hand quietly resting on the hilt of his sword, but he was stopped by a glance from Murong Zhao.
A moment of impatience may ruin great plans.
Murong Zhao slowly stepped down from the carriage, her figure slender but her back ramrod straight.
She raised her hand, gently smoothing her slightly disheveled collar and hair. Ignoring the official’s contempt, she lifted her gaze to the massive, heavy palace gate ahead, carved with ferocious beast patterns.
Beyond the gate lay an abyss, a chessboard, an uncertain fate.
It was also her only path to survival.
"Su Yue, Wei Zhao."
She spoke softly, her voice cool yet resolute. "Follow me."
"Yes," the two replied in unison.
Murong Zhao lifted her foot, step by step, steadily walking toward that open palace gate.
Each step fell upon her own destiny.
Just as one foot crossed the threshold of the palace gate, about to fully step into this most revered and most perilous cage in the world, she suddenly halted and turned her head slightly.
Her gaze looked toward the distant horizon.
There, in the direction of Beishuo, light clouds drifted, a vast expanse of desolation.
Mother.
Your daughter is entering.
Stepping through this gate, your daughter is no longer the abandoned girl of the Cold Palace in Beishuo, bullied and humiliated.
From this day forward, Murong Zhao will live only for herself.
She took a deep breath, withdrew her gaze, and when she looked up again, her eyes held only a cold light as deep and still as an abyss.
One step forward.
The palace gate slowly closed behind her, emitting a heavy, muffled sound like a pronouncement.
At the highest point of the palace, atop the Star-Gazing Tower, a figure in dark robes stood with hands clasped behind his back.
Xiao Yan looked down from above, watching the slender figure emerging from Cining Palace. His deep, cold-pool-like eyes narrowed slightly.
Xiao Yan’s thin lips curved slightly, a flicker of interest flashing in his eyes.
He did not speak further, only gazing at the gradually fading figure, unmoving for a long time.
Inside Cining Palace, incense smoke curled, the atmosphere solemn and suffocating.
On the gold-carved, phoenix-adorned throne at the front sat a woman dressed in dark palace attire.
Empress Dowager Xiao was around fifty years old but well-preserved, her face dignified and imposing. Her sharp, eagle-like gaze swept lightly, causing all the palace attendants in the hall to dare not even breathe loudly.
Murong Zhao bowed her head, kneeling respectfully and performing a standard bow. Her posture was precise, her voice clear and steady: “Murong Zhao, princess of Beishuo, pays respects to Empress Dowager.”
There was no expected command to rise.
The air seemed to freeze.
One incense stick burned to its end.
Two incense sticks quietly turned to ash.
From beginning to end, Empress Dowager did not speak, nor did she instruct Murong Zhao to stand.
The cold, hard green bricks pressed directly into her knees, the piercing chill spreading upward along her legs. Numbness, soreness, pain—wave after wave swept over her. Murong Zhao’s legs trembled slightly, but she forcibly suppressed it, remaining motionless.
Su Yue knelt behind Murong Zhao, trembling all over, her face pale, almost unable to hold herself up.
Yet Murong Zhao kept her back straight throughout, her face showing no trace of grievance, pain, or anxiety, calm as a jade statue devoid of emotion.
Eighteen years in the Cold Palace—more humiliating and unbearable punishments like kneeling—she had long grown accustomed to enduring.
Empress Dowager looked down coldly at the slender girl below.
Her wedding attire was not particularly luxurious, her appearance delicate but not ostentatious. Her eyes were calm like an ancient well, showing no hint of timidity nor any sign of pretence.
Rumours said she was a discarded daughter of Beishuo, raised in the Cold Palace, a substitute for her legitimate sister in marriage—a soft, helpless persimmon to be manipulated.
But the person before her clearly had softness tempered with hardness.
“Raise your head.”
Empress Dowager finally spoke, her voice not loud but carrying a pressuring authority.
Murong Zhao complied, lifting her head, her gaze calmly meeting Empress Dowager’s scrutinizing eyes—not evading, not flinching, neither humble nor arrogant.
Empress Dowager’s gaze deepened slightly, her tone sharp and undisguised: “Princess of Beishuo? How do I hear that you are merely a substitute bride?”
One sentence, like a blade unsheathed.
The entire hall fell silent instantly, palace maids and eunuchs all holding their breath, waiting to see how this disgraced princess from Beishuo would be humiliated.
Su Yue, terrified, buried her head lower, trembling all over.
But Murong Zhao’s expression remained unchanged, her tone respectful yet not humble: “To reply to Empress Dowager, the legitimate princess of Beishuo is of noble lineage, naturally matched with a peerless person of the world. I, your servant, am dull in qualifications, of humble origins, only fit to enter the palace to serve Your Majesty, manage the inner palace for Your Majesty, and exert my humble efforts.”
No excuse, no anger, no grievance.
One sentence acknowledged her “substitute” identity, praised Beishuo, flattered Dayin’s reputation, and placed herself at the lowest position.
Empress Dowager’s eyes flickered with a trace of surprise.
She was indeed articulate.
Unfortunately, the palace had no shortage of clever people.
She suddenly chuckled lightly, but the laughter did not reach her eyes, cold and eerie: “Indeed clever. Unfortunately—”
The Empress Dowager drew out her tone, her gaze sharp as a blade, piercing straight at Murong Zhao: "Clever people, in this palace, tend not to live long."
These words were already a naked warning.
Yet Murong Zhao acted as if she didn’t understand, bowing once more and kowtowing, her tone calm and deferential: "Thank you for your guidance, Empress Dowager. Your humble servant is foolish and dare not claim cleverness. I only seek to remain dutiful and keep to my place, living to serve His Majesty, with no other thoughts."
Dutiful.
Keeping to her place.
Living.
She spoke with frankness.
The Empress Dowager watched her for a long time before finally waving a hand, her tone indifferent: "You may leave. Go settle in the side hall. Remember what you said today."
"Your humble servant obeys the decree."
Murong Zhao slowly rose to her feet. Her knees had long gone numb, and her legs trembled slightly as she stood, yet she still walked steadily, turning to exit Cining Palace.
Once outside the hall, a cold wind blew, and Su Yue’s legs gave way, nearly collapsing to the ground. Her small face was deathly pale, her voice trembling: "Princess… the Empress Dowager, she… she’s so terrifying… this servant almost died of fright just now…"
Murong Zhao reached out to steady her, her fingertips slightly cool, yet her tone was light and composed:
"What is there to fear?"
She lifted her gaze toward the layers of the deep palace, her dark eyes calm as still water, "She won’t eat you."
What truly devours people has never been authority, but these bottomless palace walls.
And they had only just stepped inside.
Inside Cining Palace, the Empress Dowager watched Murong Zhao’s retreating figure, her fingertips lightly tapping the table.
"This girl is too tolerant," she slowly spoke, her voice low. "Either she is truly foolish, or she hides too deeply."
An elderly servant beside her whispered: "Empress Dowager, should this servant…"
The Empress Dowager shot him a cold glance, cutting him off: "No rush. Let’s see where she is settled first. Whether she is a snake or a worm, a little probing will reveal it."
She paused, then added: "Keep a close watch on His Majesty’s side."
At the same time, deep within the inner palace, in Consort Shu’s quarters.
A palace maid hurried into the inner hall and whispered: "Your Highness, the peace-marriage princess from Beishuo has just met with the Empress Dowager."
Consort Shu was facing the mirror, applying her makeup. Hearing this, her hand paused slightly before she let out a light laugh: "Oh? What did the Empress Dowager say?"
"She made her kneel for two sticks of incense, gave her a verbal warning, then had Liu Momo take her to settle in."
Consort Shu set down the jade comb, stood up, and walked to the window, her eyes shifting slightly: "Kneeling for two sticks of incense, and she could still walk out steadily?"
The palace maid bowed her head: "Yes. This servant watched from afar. When the princess came out, although her legs trembled a little, her back was straight, and her face showed no trace of grievance."
"Interesting," Consort Shu’s lips curved into a meaningful smile. "Have someone keep an eye on her, see where she is settled. I want to see if this Beishuo princess is worth… my personal attention."
In the mirror, her exquisitely made-up face wore a gentle smile, but her eyes were as cold as if dipped in poison.
And atop the highest point of the palace, on the Star-Gazing Tower, a figure in black robes stood with hands clasped behind his back.
Xiao Yan looked down from above, watching the slender figure walking out of Cining Palace. His deep, cold-pool-like eyes narrowed slightly.
"Is this the seventh princess sent by Beishuo?"
The shadow guard beside him replied softly: "Yes."
Xiao Yan’s thin lips curved slightly, a flicker of interest flashing in his eyes.
He said nothing more, only watched the retreating figure, remaining still for a long time.