Family Ambitions Exposed
The line the emperor had drawn did not remain invisible for long.
Within days, the Yang family felt the shift—subtle at first, then undeniable. Invitations arrived more frequently. Officials who once passed them without notice now paused, offered smiles, spoke with deliberate warmth. Favor, once hinted at, had taken form.
Lady Yang accepted it all with measured restraint.
She understood the danger of eagerness. Power gained too quickly invited scrutiny, and scrutiny invited ruin. Still, beneath her composed exterior, satisfaction grew. Her calculations had been correct.
Yet ambition rarely traveled alone.
Minister Zhang requested a private audience, presenting himself not as an accuser but as a servant of balance. He spoke of harmony, of precedent, of the dangers of elevating one family too swiftly. His words were carefully chosen, his meaning unmistakable.
"The court watches patterns, Your Majesty," he said. "And it has begun to see one."
Xuanzong listened without interruption, his expression unreadable. When Zhang finished, the emperor dismissed him with courtesy—but not reassurance.
That evening, Yuhuan was summoned to her mother's chambers.
Lady Yang poured tea with steady hands. "You must be cautious," she said. "Favor is a flame. It warms, but it also reveals."
Yuhuan met her gaze. "You wanted this."
"Yes," her mother replied evenly. "But wanting success is not the same as surviving it."
For the first time, Yuhuan saw something unfamiliar in her mother's eyes—not fear, but awareness. They had pushed too far, too visibly.
Meanwhile, Prince Li Mao stood before the emperor at last, summoned under the guise of filial duty. He knelt, composed, though his heart burned with words left unsaid.
"You have served with honor," Xuanzong said.
Li Mao bowed deeply. "I live to serve the dynasty."
Their exchange remained formal, restrained, yet beneath it lay a truth neither addressed. When Li Mao withdrew, his shoulders were rigid, his silence heavy with acceptance.
Later that night, rumors sharpened.
Not of Yuhuan alone—but of her family. Of influence purchased too swiftly. Of doors opened too easily. The Yang name, once rising, now attracted attention it could not fully control.
In her chamber, Yuhuan listened as distant voices echoed through the palace. She understood then that love was no longer the greatest danger.
Visibility was.
And once seen too clearly, nothing—neither affection nor power—could remain untouched.