11.The Trial of Tuoba Zhaoyi

That morning, Tianxu Palace was shrouded in a veil of mist. Yet it wasn't the weather that made the servants move slower than usual—it was the summons sent directly from Qianrong Pavilion, residence of Empress Dowager Tuoba Zhaoyi.

Helian Qingyin, the once voiceless Third Consort, had been summoned to attend a private tea banquet.

Bai Ruoxi held the tray of formal attire with trembling hands.

"Miss... are you truly going… to the Empress Dowager's quarters?"

Zhenyu stood facing the window, morning light tracing a soft silhouette around her figure. She turned slowly, her smile faint, but her eyes sharp.

"When the tiger calls, the deer cannot feign deafness."

Ruoxi lowered her gaze. She wanted to say, But you're no ordinary deer.

But fear outweighed her courage.

---

Qianrong Pavilion was not a place one entered lightly.

Its walls were embroidered with golden clouds and lotus motifs—symbols of the Empress Dowager's absolute power. The air was thick with agarwood incense, faint yet piercing. A few elder maids in black stood at attention, eyes cold as they watched Qingyin approach. No smiles. No warm greetings.

This isn't a place for tea.

It's an unnamed court of judgment.

As Zhenyu stepped into the inner hall, her gaze immediately met that of Tuoba Zhaoyi, seated atop her throne. Her silver hair was coiled high, devoid of any ornate decorations. And yet, the calmness on her face… felt like a river hiding whirlpools beneath its surface.

"Consort Helian," she said, her voice low yet echoing like command. "Your voice has returned. And with it, the palace finds a new story."

Zhenyu bowed gracefully. "Your Majesty… the palace always has stories. Even when no voice is heard."

The Empress Dowager narrowed her eyes. "But not all voices come from the same throat. Sometimes, a new voice comes… from a different soul."

Zhenyu didn't blink. She understood—Tuoba was testing her.

She wasn't asking.

She was threatening… but with silk, not daggers.

---

Two attendants poured tea into white porcelain cups edged in deep indigo. Zhenyu lifted her cup carefully, but did not drink.

"Please," said Tuoba flatly. "Tea from the Zhaoyan Mountains. Brewed only for those who carry truths kept in silence."

The words swept in like a chill wind, trailing down her nape.

Zhenyu raised the cup to her lips—but didn't drink.

Her eyes remained locked on the Dowager's face.

You want to know who I am.

But I won't answer a question you won't speak aloud.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," she finally said. "This tea… is bitter. But perhaps its bitterness is more honest than crafted sweetness."

One of the old attendants flinched slightly. But Tuoba Zhaoyi only chuckled softly.

"You're clever with words.

But words matter less than the purpose you carry."

---

The sky outside Qianrong Pavilion was beginning to warm, but the temperature within the hall remained frozen.

Tuoba Zhaoyi gently tapped her porcelain lid against the cup as if time itself rested in her palm. The delicate clink rang hollow. Every motion of hers was controlled—never excessive, yet enough to remind all present that no one should let their guard down.

Soft footsteps approached.

A woman in crimson entered slowly, her dress embroidered with phoenix flames. Her poise was elegant, but her gaze burned with an eternal fire.

Ji Suling.

"Your Majesty," she greeted with a bow. "I heard Lady Helian was summoned this morning. I felt… there were things that ought to be heard together."

Tuoba glanced at her briefly. "You always know when to listen, Suling."

Zhenyu lowered her head calmly. Inside, she knew—the game had just changed.

Mother and daughter… two dragons with different scales, yet both strike with the same aim.

---

"Consort Helian," Ji Suling said as she took her seat, tone light, "your name has resurfaced across the palace of late. Like an old spring suddenly flowing again."

Zhenyu smiled gently. "Perhaps because my voice has returned at last, Princess Ji."

Suling raised a brow. "Or… perhaps another voice has begun to speak through you."

The Empress Dowager remained silent, allowing her protégé to steer the conversation toward the edge of a cliff.

Her words weren't accusations. They were blades—thrown through the air.

Zhenyu rested her hands upon her knees. Calm. Straight.

"If another voice speaks through me… it may be because sincere voices have been buried for too long by fear."

---

Tuoba placed her cup down. Her fingers moved slowly, but without pause.

"In ages past," she began, as though reciting an old fable, "there were consorts who suddenly began to see spirits. They said… it was a sign their souls no longer belonged to their own bodies."

Silence fell like snowfall.

Zhenyu looked straight at the Empress Dowager. For a breathless moment, only the chime of wind brushing the ornaments could be heard.

"I merely see truths that were once hidden," she replied. "If that marks me as a vessel for another soul, then perhaps this entire palace has long been filled with faceless spirits."

---

Ji Suling clenched her fan.

Tuoba Zhaoyi… laughed.

"Interesting," she said. "You're not the same woman who sat in Lianyu Pavilion three years ago. But the palace welcomes clever women… so long as they know when to be silent."

Zhenyu bowed once more. But just before her head dipped fully, she spoke softly:

"But sometimes, Your Majesty… the most dangerous voice is the one that refuses to go silent again."

---

An elderly maid entered once more, carrying a small wooden box carved with plum blossoms, now darkened by age. She placed it atop a silver tray and offered it to the Empress Dowager with reverence.

Tuoba Zhaoyi opened the box slowly.

Inside lay a simple red cloth talisman, bound in black thread. Worthless… yet heavy with invisible anger.

"Do you know this?" Tuoba asked.

Zhenyu frowned as she gazed at the charm. Inside her, something pulsed.

Not from Zhenyu's own memories—but from the soul of Qingyin within. Like a ripple rising from the bottom of a deep lake.

That belonged to Father.

Qingyin?

He gave it to me… but the Empress Dowager ordered it burned.

Zhenyu didn't respond right away. She lowered her gaze, then answered softly:

"Such talismans are sometimes used… to keep a soul from shattering. Or to trap it from crossing into another realm."

Tuoba Zhaoyi gave a faint smile. "You're correct. Unfortunately, this charm… is already broken. And the soul it once protected… shattered long ago."

---

Ji Suling looked at her mother, uncertain. She couldn't fully grasp the meaning behind the Empress Dowager's words—but she sensed it wasn't merely about Qingyin and her mother. It was a balance between two worlds.

Mother never presents a symbol without intent.

Is she trying… to break Zhenyu today?

Zhenyu reached once more for her tea. This time, she drank. The bitterness hit stronger than before.

Something had been added.

---

Do you think they're beginning to suspect? Qingyin's voice whispered within.

They don't just suspect, Zhenyu replied. They're deciding whether I should be silenced… before I speak again.

Then what should we do?

Speak again.

---

Tuoba slowly rose. All the servants immediately bowed low.

"Consort Helian… from today onward, I shall watch you more closely. Not for your voice—but for the spirit walking beside it."

Zhenyu stood and bowed low in return.

"But be cautious, Your Majesty," she said softly. "Sometimes… a shadow doesn't belong to a soul longing to return. Sometimes, shadows come… to reclaim what was stolen."

---

As Zhenyu exited that grand hall, she knew one truth:

Her trial was not over.

But now—she was no longer merely a witness.

She was part of the game.

And from within her body, Qingyin whispered:

I am not afraid of her.

Because now… I am no longer alone.

---

As she left the hall, Zhenyu understood one thing:

Her trial wasn't over.

But now, she wasn't just a witness.

She was a player in the game.

And deep within her, Qingyin whispered:

"I'm not afraid of her."

"Because now... I'm not alone."