The Serpent’s Coil

Ling Xuefeng never played a losing game. Every apparent setback was nothing more than a repositioning of her pieces, a momentary retreat to lure her enemies into complacency. Yuwen Zhi thought he had gained the upper hand, thought he had finally forced her into a corner.

He was wrong.

She sat in her private study, her delicate fingers tracing the rim of a jade teacup, its contents untouched. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and ink, mingling with the soft rustling of silk as Xu Meilin entered the room.

"He moves boldly," Meilin remarked, folding her fan with a snap. "Taking Shen Rui was calculated. Sabotaging your poisons—brazen."

Xuefeng allowed a slow, knowing smile to curve her lips. "And yet, he has revealed himself too soon."

Meilin arched a brow. "You expected this?"

"I expected a challenge worthy of my time," Xuefeng mused, setting the teacup down with a quiet clink. "And now I have it."

Meilin watched her carefully. "You do not seem troubled."

Xuefeng chuckled. "Because I am not. He moves with precision, yes, but he forgets one thing—this court is my domain. He may have taken a pawn, but I will take his king."

A shadow flickered beyond the doorway, and a servant knelt at the threshold. "Lady Ling, a message from the Crown Prince."

She extended a hand, taking the scroll with deliberate ease. The seal was intact—good. She unfurled it, scanning the neatly penned words.

"Zhao Wuyuan summons me," she murmured. "Tonight."

Meilin's expression darkened. "This could be dangerous."

"Danger is a matter of perspective," Xuefeng replied smoothly. "If the Crown Prince believes he controls the board, then it is my duty to remind him who truly commands the game."

The palace was alive with murmurs as Ling Xuefeng entered Zhao Wuyuan's private hall. Guards flanked the room, their hands resting lightly on the hilts of their swords, their eyes carefully avoiding hers. The Crown Prince sat upon a raised dais, a goblet of wine cradled between his fingers, his expression unreadable.

"Lady Ling," he greeted, his voice smooth but carrying an undercurrent of unease. "You honor me with your presence."

She dipped into a graceful bow. "Your Highness need only summon me, and I shall appear."

Zhao Wuyuan chuckled, though it did not reach his eyes. "You speak as if you have not been the one pulling the strings all along."

Xuefeng tilted her head, feigning curiosity. "Am I accused of something?"

The Crown Prince leaned forward. "You have been my greatest ally, but tell me, Lady Ling—why do I feel as though I am merely a piece in your grand design?"

She did not blink, did not falter. Instead, she stepped closer, lowering her voice just enough that only he could hear. "Because every ruler needs someone who sees beyond the throne."

Zhao Wuyuan studied her, tension lining his jaw. "And Yuwen Zhi? He whispers in the dark, and yet I do not see you moving against him."

Xuefeng smiled, slow and deliberate. "A serpent that reveals itself too early is easy to catch."

He exhaled, nodding as though he understood, but doubt still lingered in his gaze. "Do not mistake my patience for blindness, Lady Ling. I may be willing to trust you—for now."

Xuefeng inclined her head. "Trust is a delicate thing, Your Highness. But I assure you… mine is never misplaced."

Later that night, Xuefeng sat by the moonlit window of her chambers, her thoughts a web of silk-thin calculations. Yuwen Zhi had taken his first steps. The Crown Prince was uncertain. The Emperor's recovery had thrown an unforeseen element into play.

And yet, she felt no fear.

Meilin entered quietly, her sharp gaze scanning Xuefeng's expression. "What now?"

Xuefeng reached for a fresh scroll, dipping her brush into ink. "Now, we ensure that Yuwen Zhi's next move is his last."

She pressed the brush to parchment, the first stroke of a letter that would set the court ablaze.

The hunt had begun.