She was an empress abandoned in the palace. Eight years after entering the palace, she was frail and childless, living in the remote Tangli Palace, where even the palace maids dared to skimp on her charcoal. Every day, she waited to die. The only thing she couldn't let go of was the old injustice surrounding her father and brothers, a case that had never been resolved.
She was the regent of the current dynasty, twenty-two years old, decisive and ruthless, with power over the court. A blade hanging over the heads of countless people, yet woken by nightmares every night.
Three years ago, she had collapsed, covered in blood, outside the gates of Tangli Palace. The frail woman had opened the door in her robe, wiped the blood from her face with a handkerchief, and softly said, “Come in.”
From that day on, Tangli Palace never again lacked charcoal or medicine.
At the empress dowager's birthday banquet, the court was in attendance, but the empress was absent. The Minister of War publicly challenged the decision, saying, “This is improper.” Silence filled the hall. No one dared answer.
Xiao Que set down her wine cup and smiled. A few words were all it took to make the minister kneel and apologize.
No one knew why she would stand up for an empress she had never met.
That night, after leaving the banquet, she detoured to Tangli Palace. She stood before its peeling red gate but did not go in, just as she had “happened to pass by” countless times over the past three years.
Inside the Buddhist shrine, Shen Qingyi turned her prayer beads as the moonlight outside lay cold as frost.
She didn't know why Xiao Que did all this. All she wanted was to clear her father and brothers' names before she died.
And all that person wanted was for her to know:
That somewhere in this deep palace, someone hoped she would live.
