The matter did not last until dawn.
The investigation at the Buddhist hall was quietly suppressed by the Empress Dowager under the pretext of "disturbing sacred cultivation."The Household Department withdrew its officials overnight.The ledgers were sealed.Sandalwood incense burned once more before the Buddha.
Two attendants under Consort Shen's name were taken away—
—and returned before sunrise, without a sound.
No public punishment.No confiscations.Not even a single imperial decree.
But within the palace, the meaning was louder than thunder.
Retaliation had begun.
Qing Tian did not sleep.
In Tingyu Pavilion, the lamps burned through the night.Stacks of grain records lay spread across her desk, their edges frayed from relentless turning. Her fingers drifted over columns of numbers—
—but she was no longer calculating.
She was waiting.
The oil in the lamp sank low.The flame flickered, casting unsteady shadows that swayed like ghosts upon the walls.
She knew the truth with chilling clarity:
She had won reason.
But she had touched Consort Shen's lifeline.
The Buddhist hall's grain had never been merely for offerings.It was the Shen family's channel for laundering silver.Their currency of favors.Their hidden provision for feeding unseen mouths.
And Qing Tian—
Had torn open a corner.
Just before dawn, hurried footsteps shattered the silence outside.
Spring Peach stumbled in, face bloodless, forgetting even to bow.
"Your Highness—something's happened!"
Qing Tian shot to her feet, the chair scraping across stone with a piercing cry.
"Who?"
Spring Peach's lips trembled.
"…Yunxiang."
The name struck like a physical blow.
"The Yunxiang working at the southern pastry shop…"
For a moment, Qing Tian could not breathe.
She asked no further questions.
The carriage left the palace as the sky paled.
At the southern canal, spring winds still carried winter's bite.The water reflected a cold, metallic sheen beneath the early light.
Yunxiang was found beside the stone embankment.
Clothes neat.Hair perfectly pinned.Fingernails clean.
No signs of struggle.
As if someone had invited her away politely—
—and returned her with equal courtesy.
The coroner crouched nearby, voice hushed.
"The hyoid bone is shattered."
A pause.
"…She was strangled."
Not an accident.Not a misstep.
But a method of killing executed with brutal precision and terrifying calm.
Qing Tian stood by the canal, wind tugging loose strands of her hair.
She did not cry.
She did not even step closer.
Because she understood exactly what this was.
They had not killed Yunxiang.
They had killed her eyes beyond the palace walls.
A message, carved in flesh:
You can protect grain.But you cannot protect people.
Xiaoman collapsed to her knees, sobbing until her voice no longer sounded human.
"It's my fault… I brought disaster upon her… it's me…"
Qing Tian walked over and placed a hand upon her shoulder.
That hand was steady.
"It is not your fault."
Her voice was low—
—but sharp as steel.
"She will not die in vain."
Xiaoman looked up, eyes swollen red.
Qing Tian's gaze drifted to the slow-moving canal.
Word by word, she spoke:
"This is Consort Shen's declaration of war."
At dusk, as the palace gates neared closing—
A lacquered food box arrived at Tingyu Pavilion.
Polished wood.Gold tracery.Inside, the palace's finest osmanthus cakes.
Sweet fragrance filled the air.
Along with a single sentence:
"Director Qing…The winds outside the palace are colder than those within."
Spring Peach's hands trembled.Faces turned pale.
No one dared speak.
Qing Tian looked at the delicate cakes.
Then—
She smiled.
A faint curve of the lips.
Cold enough to freeze blood.
"Set it down."
The box was placed upon the stone table in the courtyard.
Before everyone's eyes—
She broke the cakes apart.
One piece.
Then another.
Crushed until nothing recognizable remained.
The sweetness of osmanthus scattered into the evening wind.
"Send word back."
Qing Tian lifted her gaze, voice calm and absolute.
"Tell the Consort—"
"The grain, I will reclaim."
"The people, I will also reclaim."
"If she wishes to overturn the table—"
"…then I will overturn it with her to the very end."
Silence swallowed the courtyard.
No one mistook her words for anger.
Because in that moment—
Qing Tian had finally accepted the truth.
She was no longer merely reforming kitchens.No longer merely balancing ledgers.
In this palace—
She would carve out a path of survivalfor those who had never been allowed one.
And such a path—
Could only be paved in blood.
Yunxiang's blood.
The first drop.