A Conversation in the Rain

The gentle patter of rain fell like a melody from the heavens, soft droplets scattering across the swaying willow leaves, as if poetry were being recited silently over the still palace grounds. The lantern within the resting pavilion glowed faintly, its flickering light barely illuminating the silhouette of trees and the silver mist beading upon the roof tiles.

Jiang Xinluo stood beneath one such willow, her ink-colored cloak dampened by the rain. Beneath the shadow of her cloth hood, her eyes remained steady but something within them stirred like wind beneath a still lake, unseen yet piercing. She gazed upon the Hua Lan Residence that stood motionless beyond the curtain of rain a place she once watched from the shadows. Now, it had become the very place her footsteps returned to… with a heart no longer the same.

"The residence of my enemy…" she whispered, her voice so faint it nearly dissolved into the rain.

But if one had heard, they would have known that in that single line was a hesitation unlike any she had ever known before.

"Destroy all witnesses before the alliance ceremony begins."

That single line from the Jianrong letter still echoed in her mind. Not because the mission was difficult, but because the name within it… was Xianlan.

The woman she once placed upon the board as nothing more than a piece

Now stood as the one person she could no longer bring herself to erase.

Xinluo closed her eyes tightly, her breath caught as her foot stepped forward, her heel pressing against the rain-drenched ground in perfect time with the jarring rhythm of her own heart.

"You've made me question everything… even the things I once believed beyond doubt."

⸻

The gatekeeper of Hua Lan Residence stole cautious glances toward the cloaked woman beyond the curtain of rain. His brows were furrowed in unease and confusion, until he heard her voice a quiet murmur.

"Tell the Princess… that Lady Crescent Moon of Jianrong requests an audience."

His eyes widened instantly.

That name… belonged to the false identity used by the female envoy of Jianrong years ago, when she roamed as a wandering scholar across Da Xia. Only a select few within the deepest inner circles would know of it.

He bowed swiftly, then vanished into the residence without delay.

⸻

Inside Hua Lan Residence, the red lanterns wavered with each gust of wind. The sound of water dripping from the roof tiles echoed steadily, as though reminding the heart it was never allowed to rest. Xianlan stood beneath the covered eaves, her gaze lifted to the rain cascading over the lattice beams.

She was not surprised by the name.

Nor was she startled to know that the one who once lived as a shadow had now chosen to step forward into the lantern's light on this rain-soaked night.

Footsteps approached, soft as a breeze, before Jiang Xinluo emerged from the shadows across the courtyard.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Until Xianlan's voice broke the silence, calm and edged like silver.

"You're bold… to come like this on a rainy night when so many are hoping to see me slip in the mud."

Jiang Xinluo pulled down her soaked hood. Rain-darkened strands of hair clung to her pale cheek. Her long, narrow eyes gleamed under the flickering light as she met Xianlan's gaze without flinching.

"I once hunted you," she said. "For months, I watched your every step in silence. But never not once did I hear your voice… until I began to suspect that your silence spoke louder than any command from above."

Xianlan did not reply immediately.

She smiled faintly, a glimmer of derision flickering in her eyes.

"The silence you speak of… is the answer most people fear to face."

⸻

The two women sat beneath the eaves, the rhythmic rain tapping softly against the wooden floor. The moisture clung to everything, yet it did nothing to lessen the quiet tension that bound them.

Jiang Xinluo placed a small wooden box upon the table between them.

"Inside is the record that should have been burned a ledger my kingdom would rather erase."

"But I chose not to burn it. Because this story… belongs to you. Not to a suspect."

Xianlan glanced at the box, then returned her gaze to the woman across from her.

"I'm not sure whether I should be grateful… or more suspicious of you."

"Do you know what it means… for someone who once laid a trap to see me fall now to hand me the key instead?"

Jiang Xinluo nodded slightly.

"Sometimes," she said softly, "realizing you once stood on the wrong side… wounds more deeply than losing the game."

"I'm not here to ask to stand with you," she continued, her voice firm. "But I will not be anyone's pawn again."

"If I am to act… then I will be the one to play the game no longer a piece waiting to be sacrificed."

Her words were not a declaration, nor a plea.

They were the resolve forged from the fracture of loyalty.

Xianlan fell quiet, then replied softly,

"I hope you won't vanish from the board too soon…"

"Because I want to see just how sharp the true Jiang Xinluo plays when she walks the path she chooses."

The shimmer of rain reflected in both their eyes.

Not enemies.

Not allies.

But two shadows… who had once worn masks, and now began to remove them together.

⸻

After Jiang Xinluo's figure disappeared down the misted path and the hush of rain reclaimed the garden, silence returned settling like dew upon the willow leaves, like a lingering ache beneath Xianlan's ribs.

She stood alone beneath the eaves, one hand resting on the wooden box that held the truth once nearly lost to ash. Her eyes were calm, not startled. Deep, like a lake beneath moonless sky.

Soft footsteps approached behind her.

The scent of rain-dampened silk and faint medicinal herbs revealed his presence before she turned.

Feng Yuhan stood by the wooden pillar near the stairway, arms crossed behind his back. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze… hard to define.

"You let her come," he said quietly. "Aren't you afraid of how it'll be misunderstood?"

Xianlan did not look at him. She lifted a newly steeped teacup to her lips, took a small sip, and answered in a composed voice.

"I've never feared slander as much as I fear missing a chance… to hear the truth from the mouth of an enemy."

A low chuckle slipped from Feng Yuhan's throat.

"I'm beginning to wonder… who truly holds the better hand."

⸻

Xianlan cast him a glance not sharp, not soft, but with a glint that defied easy explanation.

"Those who never intended to play the game," she said quietly, "may end up winning it… because they never placed themselves at the center of the board."

Feng Yuhan stepped closer, drawing out a small fabric pouch and offering it to her.

"This is the latest report," he said. "Someone from the Shadow Hall was seen near the old pavilion three nights ago. And I suspect… they have yet to realize that some people have begun listening to voices outside the script."

Xianlan accepted the pouch, unfolding the documents inside.

Her expression remained unchanged… but her fingers pressed more tightly against the paper's corner.

"I know it was you," she said evenly, "who released Liu Meirong."

Feng Yuhan paused for a moment before replying, his tone slow and steady.

"Because some truths," he said, "require a witness who speaks in place of silence. Not just ink on scrolls."

"Then why did you do it?" she asked, unflinching.

He met her eyes.

"Because I didn't want to keep seeing your shadow… only as a tool."

"And if one day," he added with a faint smile, "you choose to bring me down, let it be because I stood beside you willingly not because I turned my back."

Xianlan lowered her gaze slightly. Her eyes flickered just once.

"I never asked anyone to stand beside me," she murmured.

"All I ask is this if you walk beside someone, let it be because of the heart, not the fate someone else decided for you."

It was not a grand declaration.

But it held weight.

Because it came from a woman who had once lost everything and still chose to stand without begging a single hand to reach for hers.

⸻

That night…

After Feng Yuhan had left, Xianlan sat alone before the wooden box.

Inside were documents that had once changed the fate of her mother. If made public, they would shake the foundations of many names that sat upon court thrones.

But she did not yet take them out.

She understood when the time comes to play a card, the hand must be steady enough not to snap beneath the pressure.

A cold breeze stirred the gauze curtains. The flame in the oil lamp flickered, casting wavering shadows across the walls like a distorted truth beginning to seep through the dark.

"This is a game," she whispered to herself, "where no one sees the face of the one holding the deck…"

"But I will make sure everyone knows I am no longer a pawn on anyone's board."

⸻

In the abandoned West Wing of the Imperial Library, an old woman was writing a letter with faint, almost transparent ink.

Beside her lay a thin jade tablet inscribed with three words:

"The Phoenix Returns."

That letter… would leave the palace by morning.

And it just might become the next move in a game where even the dealers themselves… were beginning to wonder if they still held the board.

"This chapter has been updated with improved narrative and deeper character perspective. The plot remains unchanged."

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