The world was a blur of crimson and gold, a tapestry of light and shadow that swam before Shen Mei Hua's eyes. Her mind, heavy with the weight of memory, struggled to make sense of the unfamiliar. Silk curtains swayed above her, embroidered with peonies and phoenixes, their threads catching the flicker of oil lamps. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and the faint tang of medicinal herbs. She tried to move, to sit up, but her body felt impossibly small, her limbs weak and uncoordinated. A gasp escaped her lips—only it wasn't a gasp. It was a wail, high and piercing, the cry of an infant.
Mei Hua's heart lurched. No. She tried to speak, to call out, but her mouth formed only another plaintive cry. Her eyes, wide and searching, darted around the room. A canopy bed loomed nearby, draped in crimson gauze, and a lacquered screen painted with lotus blossoms stood guard by the door. Women in flowing robes moved in hushed urgency—maids, their hair pinned with jade, and a midwife, her sleeves rolled up, murmuring softly. Mei Hua's mind reeled. This was no Fang Manor, no cold pavilion where she had last drawn breath, clutching her jade pendant as poison burned through her veins.
The memory surged, unbidden: Madam Fang's cruel smile, Fang Lihua's venomous whisper, the bitter tea scalding her throat. "You were never worthy," Lihua had said, as Mei Hua's world faded to black. Her father's face, weathered and proud, flickered in her thoughts—he was still at the border, guarding Da Qi, believing her safe. But she had died, betrayed by the family she trusted. And now… now she was here, in a body not her own, crying like a baby.
Reborn. The word struck her like a thunderclap. She had heard tales of such things—whispered stories of souls granted a second chance by the heavens. But why her? Why now? Her tiny fists clenched, and another wail broke free, startling the midwife.
"Her cries are strong," the midwife said, her voice warm with relief. She lifted Mei Hua, swaddled in soft silk, and cradled her gently. "A healthy princess, Guifei. The heavens have blessed you."
Guifei. Noble Consort. Mei Hua's mind raced. She was no longer the Di daughter of the Shen clan, no longer the naive girl married into the Fang family's web of greed. She was a princess, born to a woman of high rank in the imperial harem. The realization was both a lifeline and a chain—she had power now, but also new dangers. The palace, she knew, was a battlefield of silken smiles and hidden daggers.
The midwife carried her toward the door, and Mei Hua's cries softened, her sharp mind grappling with her infant form. She could not speak, could not act, but her memories were intact—every slight from Madam Fang, every taunt from Lihua, every detail of the Fang treasure room and its secret map. She would need time, years perhaps, to wield this new life. But she would not be naive again. The heavens had given her this chance, and she would carve her justice with it.
Beyond the birthing chamber, in the corridor of the Palace of Serene Harmony, the air was thick with anticipation and veiled tension. The emperor stood at the center, his black robes embroidered with golden dragons, his presence commanding despite the late hour. His face, lined with the weight of ruling Da Qi, softened as he awaited news of his beloved consort's labor. Noble Consort Wei, known as Guifei Wei, was his heart's solace in a court rife with scheming. Her beauty, sharp wit, and gentle demeanor had won his favor, though they also drew the envy of the harem.
To his left stood Empress Zhang, her phoenix crown glinting under the lanterns. Her expression was serene, but her eyes were cold, assessing. As the mother of the crown prince, her position was secure—yet Guifei Wei's influence gnawed at her. Beside her, Virtuous Consort Shu, clad in pale green, fidgeted with her jade bracelet, her delicate features masking a mind that thrived on gossip. Worthy Consort Li, in vibrant crimson, stood with a calculated smile, her ambition as palpable as the perfume she wore. Lower-ranking concubines—Ladies of Beauty and Talent—hovered at the edges, their whispers like the rustle of leaves before a storm.
"The child will strengthen Guifei Wei's position," Consort Shu murmured to Consort Li, her voice barely audible. "If it's a prince, the emperor may favor him over the crown prince."
Consort Li's smile tightened. "Or a princess, easily married off to secure an alliance. Either way, Guifei grows bolder."
Empress Zhang's fan paused mid-motion, her gaze flicking toward them. "Mind your words," she said softly, her tone a blade wrapped in silk. "The emperor hears all."
The emperor, however, was lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the carved doors of the birthing chamber. Guifei Wei had nearly died in a previous miscarriage, a loss that had haunted him. This child, he vowed, would be protected. He cared little for the court's whispers—his heart belonged to Wei, and her child would be his treasure.
The doors swung open, and the midwife emerged, bowing deeply as she presented the swaddled infant. "Your Majesty, Your Highness, noble consorts—a princess, born under the star of the White Tiger. She is healthy and strong."
The emperor stepped forward, his robes sweeping the marble floor. The crowd parted, their bows rippling like a wave. He took the child, his large hands gentle, and gazed into her eyes. Mei Hua, trapped in her tiny body, stared back, her infant gaze startlingly clear. For a moment, she saw not an emperor but a man—tired, burdened, yet kind. Her heart, still raw from betrayal, softened inexplicably. He sees me, she thought, though she could not name why it mattered.
"She has your spirit, Wei," the emperor said, his voice warm. He turned to the chamber, where Guifei Wei lay resting, her face pale but radiant. "What shall we name her?"
Guifei Wei's voice, weak but steady, carried through the door. "Yuzhu—Jade Pearl. For she is precious and resilient."
"Yuzhu," the emperor repeated, his eyes never leaving the child. "Princess Yuzhu, you will shine in this court." He brushed a finger against her cheek, and Mei Hua, unable to stop herself, let out a soft coo. The court gasped softly—such a sound, so soon, was rare. The emperor laughed, a rare sound that echoed through the hall. "She understands me already."
Empress Zhang's lips tightened, but she bowed. "A blessed name, Your Majesty. May Princess Yuzhu bring glory to Da Qi."
Consort Shu and Consort Li exchanged glances, their smiles brittle. A princess favored by the emperor was no mere pawn—she was a threat. The lower concubines whispered, their words a tangle of awe and envy. Mei Hua, cradled in the emperor's arms, felt the weight of their gazes. Even as a baby, she sensed the palace's undercurrents, the same treachery that had undone her in her past life.
The days that followed were a haze of warmth and strangeness for Mei Hua, now Princess Yuzhu. Guifei Wei's chambers, fragrant with jasmine and furnished with rosewood, became her world. Her new mother, though weakened by childbirth, held her often, singing Tang folk songs in a voice like a zither's strum. Mei Hua, trapped in her infant body, listened with a mind too old for her form. She memorized every face—the maids who cooed over her, the eunuchs who bowed too low, the consorts who visited with gifts and veiled barbs.
One afternoon, as sunlight streamed through the lattice windows, Guifei Wei sat embroidering a tiny silk robe for Yuzhu. Her fingers, nimble despite her fatigue, wove threads of gold into a pattern of plum blossoms. Mei Hua, lying in a cradle, watched her mother's face—elegant, with high cheekbones and eyes that held both warmth and steel. She is not like Madam Fang, Mei Hua thought, her heart aching with the memory of her past life's betrayal. Yet she could not fully trust, not yet.
"Mother," a voice called, and a boy of perhaps ten entered, his robes a deep blue. He was Prince Jing, Guifei Wei's eldest child, her son from a previous pregnancy. His face was serious, but his eyes softened as he peered at Yuzhu. "Is she truly as special as Father says?"
Guifei Wei smiled, setting aside her embroidery. "She is, Jing'er. The emperor sees something in her—a spark. We must protect her, for the palace is no kind place."
Prince Jing nodded, his young face grave. "The empress sent jade bangles, but Consort Li sent only a scroll of poetry. I don't trust her."
"Nor should you," Guifei Wei said softly. "But we will smile and accept their gifts. Yuzhu will need allies, not enemies."
Mei Hua listened, her infant body still but her mind racing. The palace was a chessboard, and she was a piece—cherished, but vulnerable. She thought of the Fang family, their manor far from the capital, their treasure room hiding the map that could shift Da Qi's fate. Had they succeeded in opening it after her death? Did her father know of her murder? The questions burned, but she could only wait, her tiny form a cage for her restless soul.
That night, as the palace lanterns glowed like stars, a visitor arrived—Consort Shu, her green robes shimmering like jade. She knelt by the cradle, her smile too sweet. "Such a lovely child," she said, her fingers brushing Yuzhu's cheek. Mei Hua stiffened, her instincts screaming. She knew that smile—the same false warmth Madam Fang had worn before the poison.
"She will grow to be a beauty," Consort Shu continued, her eyes flicking to Guifei Wei. "But the court is a harsh place for beauties. You must guard her well, Guifei."
Guifei Wei's expression remained serene, but her hand tightened on her fan. "I will, Consort Shu. Yuzhu is my heart, and the emperor's treasure."
Consort Shu's smile faltered, and she withdrew, her departure leaving a chill. Mei Hua's tiny chest heaved, her mind alight with resolve. I will not be naive again, she vowed. The Fang family had taken her life, but in this new one, she would be their reckoning. The emperor's favor was her shield, her mother's love her armor. And the jade pendant, the key to the Fang treasure—she would find it again, and with it, the truth.
As the moon rose over the Palace of Serene Harmony, Princess Yuzhu closed her eyes, her infant cries silent but her soul ablaze. The game had begun.