10.The Voice That Returned After a Thousand Day

Morning at the Snow Pavilion felt like a breath being held. A thin mist danced between the bamboo leaves, brushing against the dew-covered lattice windows. The bitter aroma of untouched tea lingered in the air as Bai Ruoxi he young maid stood frozen, clutching ceremonial robes in her trembling hands.

"Meilan-jiejie…" she whispered nervously, "Is... is Miss really going to appear today?"

Meilan, the senior maid who had weathered more autumns than anyone else in the Pavilion, simply nodded.

"She has made her decision."

Inside the room, Helian Qingyin or Zijiang Zhenyu sat with her back to them. Her white robe was made of mist silk, embroidered with cranes and thin clouds. Her long hair was tied up high, without gold ornaments only a simple wooden hairpin.

But her aura…

No longer belonged to a voiceless concubine.

Zhenyu stared at her reflection in the bronze mirror. That face was no longer hers. And yet, she knew it more intimately than her own past self. Pale skin, eyes clear but heavy with wounds, lips unused for far too long.

"I have died once," she murmured softly. "Today, I live... not to remain silent."

Ruoxi lowered her head, afraid to voice her thoughts.

But Meilan stood tall.

They both knew what day it was the Emperor's birthday. And Qingyin… would appear before the court for the first time in years.

Zhenyu rose, her steps slow and deliberate. Each footfall etched a thin line across the surface of frozen time. As she stepped across the threshold, the morning wind greeted her cold, yet clean.

---

The Taiji Hall, the heart of the Ninghua Empire, was a sea of gold and blood that day. Dragon pillars towered above, walls adorned with crimson silk and aged bronze. Beneath the grand ceiling, rows of officials, princes, and concubines filled their seats.

Today marked the 49th birthday of Emperor Ninghua. Everyone was present. Including… Helian Qingyin.

Whispers erupted the moment she entered.

"Isn't that... the Third Consort?"

"The one who's been mute for three years?"

"How was she even invited?"

Zhenyu's steps did not falter. She walked past the other consorts with her head held high. Not defiant, but not submissive either.

Ji Suling narrowed her eyes, then curled her lips into a faint smile.

"She dares to show up," she whispered to Princess Shuya beside her.

"Far too bold," Shuya replied, laughing softly.

In another corner, Prince Yuwen Jinhai watched with a different gaze. His fingers curled tightly around the armrest. He recognized the gait—calm, yet storm-bound. But it wasn't Qingyin's walk. Not the one he once knew.

Zhenyu knelt before the Emperor, bowing with the grace of a proper consort. The hall fell silent. Everyone held their breath, expecting the same eternal silence they had grown used to.

But today...

A voice was reborn.

"Your Majesty…"

It rang clear, soft, yet powerful. Some officials turned instinctively, some consorts tensed.

"Forgive my silence over the past three years. But perhaps… in silence, one hears more than in noise."

"And today… I bring no gold nor jade. For my voice, long buried in silence, is the greatest gift I can offer."

---

Murmurs rippled quietly. Among the lines of nobles and officials, glances were exchanged bewildered and wary.

"I was silent for three years, not by choice. But perhaps… this palace is too loud to hear honesty."

A faint smile played on Zhenyu's lips. Gentle, almost graceful. Yet behind it, sharp as a hidden blade.

"Today, I've learned one thing: it is better to speak late than to remain forever silent in fear."

The hall shifted from solemn to subtly tense, a tension veiled behind courteous expressions. Ji Suling gripped her fan tighter than usual. Behind her smile, her breath halted.

"Happy birthday, Your Majesty. May your life be as long as the silence of your people... when injustice becomes routine."

The words were delivered with reverence, but pierced like a hidden needle in a bed of flowers.

Emperor Ninghua narrowed his eyes. But instead of rage, intrigue flickered. His gaze sharpened, and for a moment… a smile tugged at his lips.

"Your tongue is sharp for a consort who's just 'recovered'. Do you think you're giving a lecture in the Hall of Classics?"

"No, Your Majesty," Zhenyu replied, bowing with elegance. "But sometimes... only those who've lost their voices can truly teach the truth."

A short laugh escaped the Emperor. Not warm, but not angry either. He was like a dragon catching the scent of fresh blood.

Prince Jinhai shut his eyes for a moment. That wasn't Qingyin's voice.

It wasn't her way of speaking.

Yet… why did his heart tremble? Why did that voice call to a buried part of him?

"That's not her. But… somehow, I don't want to look away."

Ji Suling inhaled deeply. But her anxiety had already reached her fingertips. She knew the palace could destroy a person with a single sentence, a single misstep.

"Whoever you are… you're not Qingyin. But if I strike without proof… I'll look shaken."

And Ji Suling never allowed herself to look shaken. Not before the Empress. Not before the Emperor.

---

After the formal banquet ended, the nobles and consorts departed the hall one by one. Yet every glance followed a single figure the white gown slowly vanishing behind crimson curtains. No one knew whether to admire, mock, or fear the woman.

But they all knew one thing:

Helian Qingyin had returned.

Or… someone wearing her face.

---

The Next Morning – Eastern Garden, Empress's Residence

A tea gathering was held only for a select few those considered allies of power. Among the scent of jasmine and the trickling sound of a small fountain, the atmosphere felt more like an interrogation chamber.

Consort Ren, a sharp-eyed, sharper-tongued woman, was the first to speak.

"Your Majesty… that voice yesterday wasn't Qingyin's. She's too… slick."

Consort Mo, usually quiet, nodded hesitantly. "Her words were too refined for someone who just started speaking again."

Princess Shuya smiled faintly, twirling her fan. "Or perhaps… that voice doesn't belong to that body at all."

Several concubines exchanged glances. Shuya's words might sound like a joke, but an invisible fear lurked beneath.

The Empress merely sipped her tea, her face serene.

"Some stay silent and return as tigers. Others only pretend to be tigers to protect their rabbit hearts."

Ji Suling, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. Her voice was soft, nearly a whisper.

"If she's just a rabbit, let her run herself to death. But if she truly is a tiger... we need to know from which forest she came."

Consort Ren nodded quickly. "Or… from which time."

The words hung heavy. The garden fell silent again.

---

Twilight crept into the imperial garden, the orange hue reflecting off untouched porcelain cups.

The Empress gently set down her teacup, eyes fixed on the dancing steam, as if reading invisible shadows.

"There is a time to be silent, and a time to speak," she said softly. "But a woman who knows when to fight… is an enemy worth respecting."

All the consorts went quiet. That sentence could mean one of two things: a warning... or a subtle approval.

Though still smiling, Princess Shuya felt the wind around the Empress shift. Was she intrigued by the new Qingyin? Or testing who would react first?

Consort Ren looked uneasy. She glanced at Ji Suling, hoping she would speak. But Ji Suling remained still, her eyes never straying from the encroaching shadows in the garden.

Finally, Ji Suling broke the silence.

"If she's changed, then someone shaped her."

Consort Mo swallowed hard. "You mean… there's a power behind her?"

Suling didn't answer immediately.

She simply nodded, then turned to the Empress.

"Your Majesty… if that change came from a power we don't yet understand… then we should not wait too long."

The Empress looked at her, a faint smile on her lips.

"Then who will prove it?"

No one answered.

And in that silence, the tension was sharper than any words.

"If not me, then who else is capable, Your Majesty?" Ji Suling finally said the only one brave enough to answer.

---

That night, back at the Snow Pavilion, the night had fallen. Bai Ruoxi cleared away the incense and closed the windows against the chill. But inside, Zhenyu remained awake.

She stood before the bronze mirror.

Behind her reflection… faintly, she saw another pair of eyes. Qingyin's eyes. The soul she now inhabited. The soul not fully gone.

"You speak better than I ever could," the voice whispered from within.

"You stayed silent too long," Zhenyu replied. "It's time someone spoke for both of us."

"But this palace... it won't forgive women like us."

Zhenyu smiled.

"I don't need forgiveness. I need victory."

---

And outside that room, in the corners of the palace, in hidden halls and shadowed corridors, the name Helian Qingyin began to echo again. But this time... as a riddle.

As a threat.

As the beginning of something that could never be undone.

---