13.Trial of Blood and Shadow

Three days had passed since the secret encounter that nearly cost a life. Since that night, the palace held its breath. Every step felt heavier, every whisper like a trap. The storm hadn't arrived, but dark clouds already loomed over the sky of power.

Inside the Snow Pavilion, a fragile calm blanketed the air. The scent of cinnamon bark and dried frangipani smoldered slowly, spreading a warmth that was nothing but illusion. Sunlight pierced through the lattice windows, casting long shadows that crept across the white stone floor like unseen hands.

Zhenyu stood before the Rongxu Mirror—an object that seemed lifeless, yet breathed with silent power. Its surface shimmered, not with ordinary reflection, but with the ability to pierce the boundary between spirit and mortal realms. From within the mirror, Helian Qingyin's form grew increasingly vivid not a mere echo, but a presence rooted deep, clinging to Zhenyu's body like a second breath.

"She's planning something," whispered Qingyin from within the mirror. Her voice was like a slow river weaving through stone. "The shadows at Jingxin Pavilion are shifting. I can feel it."

Zhenyu didn't reply, only gave a slight nod. She had seen the signs as well. New servants with unfamiliar faces wandered the outer courtyard. Crows, which never flew above the palace, now circled low as if bringing grief from the heavens. Even the camellia flowers, which only withered in deep winter, had suddenly died despite the season remaining warm.

"There's to be a banquet this evening," Zhenyu murmured. Her voice was flat, but a chill laced her tone. "All the consorts will be present."

Qingyin sighed. "I know this kind of banquet," she said bitterly. "It's not meant for celebration. It's for exposure. A trap wrapped in sweet wine and false smiles."

---

Evening arrived slowly yet surely, carrying shadows behind the beauty of a setting sun. Jingxin Pavilion, residence of Consort Ji Suling, transformed into a grand stage. Power was veiled in hues of celestial blue and gold.

Silk drapes flowed from the ceiling like mist, but on closer look, their edges were sharp as hidden blades. The air was thick with the scent of white incense masking not just the perfume of rivalry, but the metallic tinge of unseen blood. Jade lanterns hung in rows, their trembling light like the breath of fear.

At the center of the hall, Ji Suling sat upon a sandalwood dais carved with dragons and phoenixes, surrounded by servants clad in ivory white still as statues, their eyes cast down. Her gaze was as calm as an autumn pond, but everyone knew still waters run deepest.

One by one, the consorts arrived: Consort An with a face like frozen marble, Consort Ming who barely raised her head, and several young concubines whose light laughter was born of fear rather than joy.

Zhenyu entered last.

She wore a plain deep blue robe, unadorned by gold or embroidery. Yet every step echoed like thunder on stone. Her eyes searched for no companionship only truth. Her aura didn't come from fabric or jewels, but from something unseen something that made maids fall silent and consorts bite their lips.

"Ah, Consort Qingyin," Ji Suling's voice flowed like a zither's string plucked under moonlight. "You arrived precisely on time."

Zhenyu bowed gracefully. "This servant would never risk dishonoring your invitation, Consort Ji."

Glances flashed among the women. No one dared smile. All knew this wasn't a banquet. This was a battlefield.

The banquet commenced. Dishes were served: lotus blossom rice cakes, apricot-smoked meat, and goldenroot tea in white jade cups. But no one truly ate. Every bite was weighed with caution. In the palace, poison wasn't just in food it dwelled in words.

After one round of tea, Ji Suling clapped her hands.

The room fell silent.

"In honor of the palace," she said, "I wish to introduce a sacred rite from the Southern Monastery: the Trial of Blood Purity."

At once, the air grew heavier.

"This ritual," she continued, "reveals the distinction between humans... and those who harbor spirits within."

A servant entered, carrying a tray veiled in black silk. Upon it: a long silver needle, and a jade bowl filled with clear liquid that shimmered under lantern light.

Zhenyu remained motionless. But in her mind, Qingyin's voice erupted: "No! That needle… it will sever us. The liquid will change if it touches my blood!"

Zhenyu parted her lips, her voice soft yet sharp as a blade. "I have never heard of such a rite being practiced in the Central Palace."

Ji Suling smiled, like a goddess standing at the gate of the underworld.

"There are many things in this palace not taught… only endured."

Then, with chilling poise, she continued. "If you have nothing to hide, your blood will remain pure. But if you harbor a spirit... this liquid will turn dark red. Like an ancient curse reborn."

Gasps stirred the room. Some consorts looked visibly unsettled. But Zhenyu stepped forward.

"If this is for the honor of the palace," she said calmly, "shouldn't all women of the inner court be tested?"

Ji Suling paused. The hall fell into deep silence. A few consorts exchanged uneasy glances, arms wrapped tightly around themselves. Whispers ignited like sparks over silk.

Zhenyu added with the faintest curve of her lips, "Or… perhaps I'm not the only one harboring secrets?"

The atmosphere shifted. Fear gnawed at the thin layer of false harmony. Ji Suling clenched her jaw.

"You speak too freely, Qingyin."

"I merely seek fairness… as the ritual intends."

After a long silence, Ji Suling waved her hand.

"Then we shall postpone… for a more appropriate time. I would hate to be called unjust."

Zhenyu bowed once more. "I thank Consort Ji for her wisdom."

Yet in her heart, she knew: this was not a victory. Only a stay of execution.

---

Night fell, bringing damp winds from the lotus ponds. In the Snow Pavilion, Zhenyu coughed up black blood into a ceramic basin. It was thick, bitter, and unnaturally warm. Bai Ruoxi held her shoulders, face pale.

"This blood… it's not human," she whispered.

Zhenyu wiped her mouth, offering a faint, bitter smile. "This body… has merged too deeply with the spirit. The trial earlier… nearly tore us apart."

In the reflection of the Rongxu Mirror, Qingyin appeared. Her face pale and translucent, her hair drifting in windless air.

"I… can't hold on if this pressure continues. Ji Suling… she has the Shadow Mirror. If she summons it, we'll be split."

Zhenyu stared at the reflection—two faces, one body. And one shared fate.

"Then we summon it first."

Qingyin fell silent.

"I'll find the Shadow Mirror before she can use it. Before she rips us apart."

She clutched a small pendant not just jewelry, but a vessel for a spiritual map. The moonstone, once belonging to Qingyin, pulsed with warmth. In her mind, forgotten corridors began to stir. Hidden passageways, ancient escape routes, and… the place where the Shadow Mirror was once concealed.

If blood can be tested

Then so can truth.

---

Supplement: Empress Dowager's Residence Ruihua Pavilion

At the heart of the night, Ruihua Pavilion, residence of the Empress Dowager, was unusually quiet. Servants spoke in hushed tones. Guards doubled at every gate.

The Empress Dowager sat in her inner chamber, dressed in a deep violet robe embroidered with black orchids. Before her lay a scroll detailing the events of the banquet. Her face showed no fury only a calm more terrifying than rage.

"Trial of blood?" Her voice was low and cold.

Her trusted eunuch bowed deeply. "Yes, Your Majesty. Proposed by Consort Ji herself."

The Empress Dowager stroked a small bird perched on her finger.

"That woman moves too quickly. The palace is no place for flaunting unseasoned power. She forgets… once blood is spilled, it can never be gathered again."

She looked toward the window into the endless darkness of a sleepless court.

"Helian Qingyin… whoever she truly is, she's no ordinary girl. And if she truly binds a spirit... then she is not merely dangerous. She is the key."

She smiled faintly.

"Let them wage their war. But I will decide who wins."