All beneath the heavens knew with certainty— The throne stood empty, for the Son of Heaven had departed.
Within the jade halls of the inner palace, lamentations of consorts and handmaidens rose like a mourning wind, as though the very firmament wept for the fate of the realm. Yet none could say for whom such sorrowful tears were truly shed.
For the late Emperor, perhaps? If so, it would be a mark of rare loyalty, a final gesture of devotion to the sovereign now entombed in silence. But who among them wept for him? Nay—perhaps those tears were not for the ruler lost, but for lives about to be extinguished in his shadow.
According to rites passed down since the days of sage-kings, it was decreed: any consort who bore no heir must accompany the Emperor in death. Thus, the very breath of the mourning women was numbered, their pale lives soon to be sealed in eternal darkness alongside their lord. Cruel it may sound—yet it was custom, ancient and unyielding. Whether master or servant, none were exempt from such "honorable ends."
Among them stood Hua Guifei— the most favored concubine of the late Emperor, already condemned to a death of unspeakable bitterness.
She dwelled in the Yang Palace, cloaked in white mourning robes, her countenance fair as carved jade, her gaze cold as frost upon winter plum. No tears adorned her eyes, not even for the man who once shared her joy and sorrow.
Hua Guifei, though noble in station, was of humble birth. Once, she was but a village maiden named Mu Ying, whose beauty rivaled the celestial grace of Lady Ma Gu. Word of her loveliness traveled across provinces, until it reached even the Dragon Throne.
But hers was not a tale of softness. Despite her divine visage, she was known in hushed tones as **"The Demon of Mu Province." ** A woman of iron and cunning, she ascended to her lofty rank by treading upon the bones of rivals, leaving in her wake a trail of concubines and loyal ministers whose resistance ended in ruin.
Yet when the Dragon fell, so too did the Phoenix. With no child to anchor her lineage, Hua Guifei stood defenseless before the ancient decree.
Seizing this moment, the faction of Empress Li Hua invoked tradition as their sword and seal, banishing Hua Guifei not by poison or blade, but by ritual itself.
As death encroached, hour by hour, Hua Guifei remained unshaken.
She sipped her tea and examined silken cloths within her chamber, serene amid the storm. At her side stood Ah-Zhi, her most faithful maid, hands trembling as she poured tea, heart seized by dread.
"Ah-Zhi, do you find this silk pleasing to the eye?" asked the lady, without once gracing the girl with her gaze.
Ah-Zhi flinched, fear rising like bile. A simple question—yet in the palace of shadows, even silk could draw blood. She knew well the price of an ill-uttered reply.
"I-I... It is beautiful, Your Grace," she stammered.
"I believe you," Hua Guifei replied, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Tell me—has the Court Astrologer chosen the day to move His Majesty's remains?"
"Three days hence, Your Grace," came the reply, head bowed low.
"Three days..." the lady mused. With languid grace, she tossed the silk into Ah-Zhi's hands.
"Embroider upon it the phoenix, in flight. When complete, have it draped upon the carriage that will bear me to the tomb."
Ah-Zhi paled. She fell to her knees.
"Your Grace, the phoenix is sacred, an omen of joy and renewal. To adorn a funerary carriage with such a symbol is forbidden."
"Ah-Zhi," came the soft reply, "is your brother in good health?"
A shiver coursed down Ah-Zhi's spine. Why would Her Grace speak of her brother now?
"He... he is well, Your Grace."
"Is that so? Yet word has reached me that he lies ill."
Hua Guifei's gaze pierced through the maid like needles through silk, a smile curling at her lips, colder than snow.
Ah-Zhi's breath caught. She had not thought her mistress knew of such things.
"It is nothing, truly," she murmured. "A minor ailment. He will recover."
"If you say so," Hua Guifei replied, sipping her tea with poise, eyes never leaving Ah-Zhi.
"It would be tragic indeed, should your family lose its only son. Would it not?"
In that instant, Ah-Zhi trembled. The message rang clear—this was no inquiry born of concern, but a warning dressed in silk.
Defy the lady, and her bloodline would end.
"Spare him, I beg you!" Ah-Zhi fell to the floor, forehead striking the tiles again and again until blood flowed from her brow.
"I will obey! I will do all you command!"
Hua Guifei offered no reply, only a smile as she turned once more to her silks, letting silence speak in her stead.
Ah-Zhi rose at last, clutching the embroidered cloth with bloodied hands, knowing full well what must be done before the sun could rise again.