The palace was never truly still.
By day, it glittered with ceremony — banners unfurling like rivers of color, silk robes glinting beneath the sun, every footstep echoing with rehearsed precision. But by night, the palace breathed differently. It became a living thing — pulsing, whispering, watching. Shadows slid along red lacquered walls like ink spilling from a cracked jar, and whispers threaded through the corridors, faster and sharper than footsteps.
Lanterns swayed gently in the evening breeze, their trembling light turning the polished floors to molten gold. Reflections rippled like water — as if ghosts of the day lingered, trapped in the marble.
Selene had begun to understand that everything here had two faces.
Light and shadow. Praise and peril.
Since the night of the poisoned tea, the air around Lady Zhen's household had shifted. The maids spoke softer, bowed deeper. And Lady Zhen herself… she had changed, though subtly. Her gaze lingered longer on Selene now — not with warmth, but with a curious precision, like a hawk measuring distance before striking.
Every glance carried meaning. Every silence was a test.
Selene could feel it — that invisible thread between them tightening, testing, pulling. Sometimes, when she set down a tray or adjusted the silk pillows, she could feel Lady Zhen's eyes on her. Measuring. Weighing. Wondering whether this quiet maid who once dared to act had done so from loyalty… or ambition.
Selene lowered her eyes, pretending she didn't notice. But her pulse told the truth.
It beat fast and uneven, a reminder that she was still prey in a cage of silk.
The poison incident had turned her from invisible to noticeable, and that was dangerous.
Here, being seen was the first step toward being destroyed.
She learned quickly to move with the palace's rhythm — quiet, efficient, unremarkable. To bow just the right amount, to walk without sound, to keep her expression smooth even when her thoughts were chaos. The other maids had noticed too.
Lin Hua's sweet smile had sharpened. Her words, always honeyed, now dripped with something far less kind. Selene felt the brush of her sleeve too often, saw the glint in her eye too long.
And then there were the others. Little cruelties wrapped in daily chores — a basin left to spill where Selene might slip, a brush conveniently missing when Lady Zhen called, whispers muttered just within earshot. Lucky rat, they sometimes hissed when they thought she couldn't hear.
Selene endured it all.
She bowed lower, moved faster, breathed quieter. And she watched.
Every face. Every word. Every flicker of expression. She recorded them all, storing them like weapons.
The System's words echoed constantly in the back of her mind, like a heartbeat she couldn't silence.
(Main Quest: Survive.)
That was all that mattered now.
Status, comfort, kindness — none of it meant anything if she didn't live to see tomorrow.
Her reflection in the polished bronze mirror looked almost foreign now. The girl staring back at her wasn't Li Mei, not anymore — and she wasn't the same Selene who had once been terrified by the shimmer of poisoned tea.
There was something sharper in her eyes now. A quiet resolve that bordered on defiance.
Still, each night as she returned to her narrow quarters, exhaustion wrapped around her like wet cloth. Her muscles ached from hours of kneeling and bowing; her fingers throbbed from scrubbing porcelain until they were raw. The air itself seemed heavier after dusk — thick with incense and tension, with a scent of something about to happen.
And yet, beneath it all, something inside her whispered:
Keep watching. Keep breathing. Don't stop moving.
Because in this place, stillness meant death.
She had learned that the hard way.
Doing nothing is the fastest way to die.
The afternoon sunlight filtered through layers of silk curtains, scattering gold across the floor like spilled coins.
Selene entered quietly, balancing a porcelain tray as if her life depended on the steadiness of her hands — because here, it did.
Lady Zhen sat on her carved couch, a vision of stillness wrapped in rose-colored silk. The fabric shimmered each time she moved, flowing like liquid dawn. A faint perfume of magnolia clung to the air — sweet, but heavy enough to suffocate.
For a moment, Selene simply stood there, unsure whether to announce herself or wait. The silence in the room was too complete, as though even sound feared to disturb Lady Zhen's thoughts.
Then, her mistress spoke.
"You are learning."
The words were soft, yet they sliced clean through the air.
Selene's throat tightened. She set the tray down with careful precision, her knees aching from the bow. "Thank you, my lady."
Lady Zhen's eyes, dark as polished inkstone, lifted to her. "You watch. You listen. That is good."
Selene lowered her gaze, but she could feel the weight of that scrutiny. It crawled across her skin, cold and deliberate.
"But," Lady Zhen continued, her voice smooth as silk drawn across a blade, "watching is not enough."
The faint rustle of her robes followed as she leaned forward. The light caught on the delicate jade pins in her hair, making them gleam like shards of ice.
"A woman who wishes to live in this palace must also act."
Selene's breath caught, her pulse a fragile thing beneath her ribs.
Lady Zhen's gaze never wavered. "Tell me, Li Mei… if poison were set before me again, what would you do?"
The question hit like a drop of ink in clear water, spreading slow and wide through the silence.
Selene's fingers curled against her skirt before she could stop them. Her mind flashed to that moment — the faint shimmer in the cup, the System's hovering prompts, her trembling hand tipping the tray. Her stomach knotted all over again.
She forced her voice to stay level. "I would make sure it never touched your lips, my lady."
For a heartbeat, the only sound was the whisper of the breeze outside, stirring the curtain fringe.
Then Lady Zhen smiled — faintly, elegantly — the kind of smile that could mean anything.
"An obedient answer," she murmured. "But obedience does not guarantee survival."
Selene blinked, unsure if she was meant to reply.
"Remember this," Lady Zhen said softly, each word deliberate, heavy. "Truth is often more dangerous than poison."
The sentence lingered in the room, thick with unspoken meaning.
Selene could feel it — that this wasn't merely advice. It was a test, a warning, and perhaps a confession all at once.
She bowed again, her forehead nearly touching the floor. "I will remember, my lady."
Lady Zhen didn't respond right away. Her attention drifted briefly to the window, to where the last threads of sunlight painted her sleeve in gold.
"See that you do," she said finally, voice distant but sharp enough to cut.
Selene stayed bowed until the sound of Lady Zhen's bracelets faded — soft chimes as she reached for her teacup. Only when dismissed did Selene retreat, step by step, feeling her legs tremble beneath her skirts.
She could still taste the metallic edge of fear in her mouth.
It wasn't just the tea that had been poisoned that night. It was the air. The trust. The unspoken rules she was only beginning to see.
Even now, with the light fading, Selene felt it — the palace breathing, alive and watchful. Every person here wore masks painted with smiles, but beneath them were teeth.
And somewhere between those layers of beauty and cruelty, she was expected to survive.
As she stepped back into the corridor, she drew a quiet, shuddering breath.
Something in Lady Zhen's tone had changed tonight — the faintest tremor beneath her calm, like a warning hum before a storm.
And with that realization, something subtle shifted in the air between them.
The palace began to change as the evening deepened.
Servants darted through the corridors like ghosts, carrying trays of wine and dishes so delicate they looked sculpted from moonlight. Outside, the gardens shimmered — hundreds of lanterns swaying from the plum trees, their blossoms glowing pale pink and white against the dusk.
The scent was intoxicating. Sweet, almost dizzying.
Selene followed a few paces behind Lady Zhen, careful to keep her eyes down but her senses wide open. Her tray was steady in her hands, yet her pulse refused to match its calm. Every step felt like walking into a trap she could not see.
This wasn't just a banquet. It was a battlefield painted in silk and perfume.
The inner courtyard looked like a dream, but Selene knew better.
Petals drifted through the air, brushing her cheek like ghosts. The marble floor gleamed like still water, reflecting the lanterns in trembling halos of gold. The concubines were already gathered — a riot of color and grace. Their laughter was soft, practiced, and hollow. The kind of sound that could hide a knife.
At the head of the table sat the Emperor. His robes were deep crimson, embroidered with dragons that seemed to shift when the lanterns flickered. He looked carved from patience and power, every movement deliberate, every silence louder than a hundred words.
When Lady Zhen entered, her gown a cascade of rose silk and silver thread, the air itself seemed to pause.
The music wavered, just slightly.
Selene's breath caught as the Emperor's gaze lifted, sharp and assessing. His expression didn't change, but something flickered — faint, like a candlelight behind glass.
He noticed her.
Selene's hands trembled around the tray. The system pulsed faintly at the corner of her vision.
(Main Quest Updated: Support Lady Zhen during the banquet.)
Her heart dropped. Perfect timing.
She bowed lower, hiding the panic rising in her chest. She knew what this meant: every glance, every cup, every misstep tonight could shift her fate.
Lady Zhen approached the Emperor with flawless grace. Her movements flowed like poetry, her every gesture deliberate. But beneath that calm, Selene could feel the tension — like the drawn string of a bow waiting to snap.
The concubines flanked them, glittering in jewels and envy. Lady Hua stood nearest, her beauty sharp as glass. Her laughter tinkled like bells dipped in poison.
"My, my," she murmured sweetly, eyes flicking toward Lady Zhen. "It seems spring favors some more quickly than others."
Selene's stomach twisted. The meaning was clear, wrapped in honey and venom.
Lady Zhen only smiled — serene, untouchable. "Spring rewards those who know how to survive the winter."
The brief silence that followed was heavier than any insult.
Selene wanted to breathe, but her lungs refused. Every movement in the courtyard felt choreographed — smiles, bows, the flutter of fans. Yet beneath the silk and civility, she sensed teeth.
Music swelled again, but the rhythm was strange — offbeat. Selene's eyes flicked toward the servants carrying trays of wine, her instincts screaming. She scanned each face, each movement, searching for that shimmer of danger she'd seen once before.
Then she saw Lin Hua.
At the far edge of the courtyard, near the shadow of a column. Smiling. Watching her.
That same syrup-sweet smile, the one that said I haven't forgotten.
Selene's throat tightened. She turned her attention back to Lady Zhen, forcing her steps to remain measured, her tray balanced like a shield.
Lady Zhen was speaking now, her tone soft and melodic. "Your Majesty, may I present the first blossom of spring?"
She bowed, graceful as the drifting petals.
The Emperor regarded her for a long, unreadable moment before inclining his head — barely a gesture, but enough to set whispers fluttering like moths.
Selene felt the air loosen, just slightly. A small victory.
Lady Zhen had been seen. Not destroyed. Not ignored.
But the evening was far from safe.
The music shifted again — slower now, hypnotic. Lantern light caught the edges of gold cups, the gleam of hairpins, the reflection of the Emperor's half-smile.
Selene moved among them like a phantom, placing dishes, collecting trays, pretending calm while her every nerve screamed. She caught fragments of conversation — laughter with hidden barbs, compliments that tasted like poison.
She could feel eyes on her. Watching. Measuring.
System Alert: Suspicion Level Increased.
Her heart lurched. She nearly dropped a cup but steadied it at the last second, her fingers slick with sweat.
Don't draw attention. Don't breathe too loud. Don't die.
Lady Zhen's gaze met hers across the table. Just for an instant.
No words. No expression.
But Selene understood. Steady. Watch. Endure.
And she did.
She made it through the banquet without spilling, tripping, or collapsing under the sheer weight of danger pressing down on her chest.
When the Emperor finally rose, the concubines bowed in perfect synchrony. The sound of silk sweeping the marble echoed like waves retreating from shore.
Selene exhaled only after he was gone. Her pulse thundered in her ears, her limbs trembling from holding still too long.
Lady Zhen remained composed, every inch the perfect concubine — graceful, intelligent, alive. For tonight, that was enough.
As the guests began to disperse, the wind stirred again. Plum petals scattered across the floor, swirling in ghostly patterns before settling among the shadows.
Selene watched them fall and realized something that sank deep into her bones.
The palace was not just gilded walls and glittering silk.
It was alive — cunning, ruthless, hungry.
A place where beauty disguised rot. Where a smile could kill faster than a blade.
And she, caught between the silk and the silence, was standing right at the center of it.