The Endless Stone Stairway
It was well past the third watch on a moonless night and the sky above the imperial capital remained as silent as always. But within the grand palace, which rose like the heart of the realm, the heavy, ragged breaths of a man bearing the burden of an empire echoed louder than they ever had before.
Emperor Li Sicheng jolted awake from his dream, gasping as though he had just clawed his way out of hell itself. His robes were drenched in sweat despite the warmth of the golden silk quilts draped over him.
"Your Majesty!?"
The eunuch stationed nearby rushed forward, having heard the cry.
But the Emperor raised a single hand and said hoarsely,
"Leave me… No need to summon the imperial physician. I am unharmed."
And yet the dream lingered. The woman in the pale violet robes within it was no faceless wraith.
She bore the likeness of Consort Yu once beloved, once trusted… and later condemned as a traitor.
Through roaring flames, he saw the imperial seal shatter on the floor, and heard the wailing of an infant amidst the smoke.
His eyes widened.
For in that dream, it was not the cry of a child dying but of a child still alive… screaming out for his mother.
"…Wenlong…" he whispered.
If that dream was not merely the byproduct of exhaustion,
but a fragment of the past buried beneath lies then whose life had been stolen, declared dead
while the breath had never left his lungs?
⸻
The morning light in the palace no longer held the warmth of spring.
That day, the breeze blew strangely over the blossoming gardens, as though some unseen shadow moved within the air.
In the Empress's residence,
Yun Qingyan sat beneath the ancient Chinese elm.
Her expression was calm, her lips curled into the faintest of smiles,
but her eyes shimmered with a somber light.
The steam from her tea rose in delicate swirls before her nose.
"His Majesty has changed," she said softly to the trusted maid who stood quietly behind her.
"Ever since Wenlong returned… the look in His eyes has never been the same."
The maid remained silent, daring not to speak.
The Empress set her cup down.
"But if that change was born from truth,"
she said,
"then I will accept it even if it costs me my final breath."
⸻
Elsewhere, deep within the inner court,
the sound of nails tapping jade echoed in rhythmic beats grating, laced with sharp tension.
Consort Su Zhen, clad in blood-red robes, gazed at the intelligence reports in her hands and let out a low chuckle.
"Wenlong… And his mother dares parade him into court?"
She tilted her head, her smile laced with mockery.
"In that case let me pose a question of my own."
A loyal attendant from the inner palace quickly brought forth a registry of the former servants from Consort Yu's residence.
Su Zhen flipped through the pages slowly. Her slender finger paused on a single name.
"This one… was there the night the fire consumed her quarters," she said, lips curling.
"Spread word that… a 'mysterious man' was secretly housed within the inner palace under the Empress's own command."
Rumors spread faster than unseasonal rain.
By midday, the whispers of a "hidden man" and "a son returned from the dead" had already saturated the palace halls.
They did not stay confined to servant quarters. They slipped past gauze curtains, crept into the ears of senior officials even ministers from the Left Court, once silent, now murmured of the murky truth behind Prince Wenlong's reappearance.
⸻
At the Pavilion of Lingxu,
golden light filtered through bamboo blinds.
The sound of a trickling stream mingled with the clink of weiqi stones.
Feng Yuhan touched a black stone lightly,
placing it beside the board's center.
"She plays a game of encirclement in full view of the court,"
he murmured, eyes fixed on the woman before him.
"So will you circle back… or strike through?"
Xianlan, seated across from him, lifted her gaze slowly.
Her eyes, deep and unwavering, betrayed no hint of doubt.
She picked up a white stone and placed it boldly in the center of the board without hesitation.
"Strike in the open," she said, voice steady and low.
"Let them all see which hand holds the true blade."
Feng Yuhan offered a slanted smile,
his eyes resting on the young woman before him with a mixture of admiration and quiet concern.
He knew it all too well the closer she stepped into the heart of power,
the tighter the roots of her enemies would coil around her.
⸻
Day of the Imperial Assembly
By the time the sun had crested the tops of the palace trees,
the triple clang of ceremonial gongs reverberated across the courtyard.
Officials assembled in orderly lines, robes rustling, gazes solemn.
Emperor Li Sicheng emerged with a grim countenance, his lips pressed into a pale, rigid line.
At his side stood Empress Yun Qingyan,
still as a mountain, serene and composed.
Opposite her, Consort Su Zhen was a vision in dark crimson,
her attire fierce enough to burn through every eye that dared look upon her.
In the center of the grand court stood Feng Yuhan, dressed in the robes of the Grand Commander.
At his side, Xianlan wore deep emerald, embroidered with golden patterns that shimmered beneath the sunlight.
She stood tall, her back straight as a blade, unfazed by the weight of so many watching eyes.
Consort Su Zhen stepped forward, her voice refined and sharp as a jeweled dagger.
"I do not speak out lightly, nor base my words upon mere rumors.
But as one loyal to the throne, I must raise my voice where danger draws near."
A murmur rippled through the court.
"Prince Li Wenlong's reappearance after sixteen years cannot be treated lightly.
He may not be of imperial blood at all but rather, a pawn introduced by those who seek to undermine the rightful lineage!"
The hall burst into waves of startled gasps.
The Empress remained still. Her eyes caught only the reflection of sunlight not even a flicker of alarm stirred within them.
"I do not fear such accusations," she replied coolly.
"But if we are to speak of introducing a scion of the Su clan into the imperial sphere,
then perhaps we should ask—who was it that brought such blood into our midst to begin with?"
Silence reigned for one long breath. Then a louder round of whispers erupted fiercer than before.
Su Zhen's jaw tightened, a twitch at the corner of her lips betraying her temper.
She had not expected the ever-calm Empress Yun to strike back so directly and in full view of the court no less.
⸻
Then, unexpectedly, the soft sound of footsteps echoed through the assembly.
All eyes turned as Xianlan stepped forward, breaking from formation.
Xianlan
In her hands, she carried a small, ornately carved wooden box.
It was no larger than a book meant to contain only a few select items but it bore an invisible weight that all could sense, even before it was opened.
"Since there are questions cast upon the purity of Prince Li Wenlong's bloodline,"
she began, her voice calm yet resolute,
"I propose a bloodline verification with the aid of evidence left behind by my mother."
She paused. Her gaze locked with the Emperor's, whose eyes widened in a way not seen before.
"And the unsealing of the confidential document… signed sixteen years ago before Consort Yu's residence was consumed by flames."
Her grip on the box remained firm. Not once did her voice falter.
A gentle breeze swept across the courtyard as though in answer to her words.
Under the morning light,
the box in her hands seemed heavier than even a general's blade.
No one spoke.
They only watched, waiting to see what she would reveal next.
Without uttering another word, Xianlan opened the box in front of all.
Inside was a single scroll of silk, delicate and no longer than a palm bound with an intricately woven cord of pale lavender.
When she unrolled it, a faded but legible document unfolded beneath the sunlight.
Emperor Li Sicheng's eyes went wide as he recognized the seal and handwriting at the corner of the page. His hand trembled slightly though he said nothing.
"This document bears your Majesty's signature, dated sixteen years ago,"
Xianlan declared,
"alongside the signature of Minister Wen Yuchan… and the hidden seal of the Imperial Medical Court verifying the birth of Consort Yu's child."
The assembly fell into utter silence.
The document recorded the birth of a royal prince…
a child who, seven days later, was declared dead.
"If this document is genuine…" one minister murmured,
"…then does it mean… Consort Yu's child never truly died?"
"Then why was no body ever found?" another voice interjected.
"Because there was no body to find," the Empress spoke at last.
Her voice was steady, yet beneath its calm flowed a sorrow too deep to conceal.
"There was only blood-stained cloth, and an empty wooden box… delivered to me in the dead of night."
A heavy silence crashed across the imperial court, drowning every corner in its weight.
Feng Yuhan turned to look at Xianlan, his eyes soft filled with tenderness, and a growing understanding.
The young woman stepped forward and handed the document to the court-appointed inspector.
"I request the formation of a formal investigation," she said clearly.
"And if that is not enough… I am willing to have Prince Li Wenlong undergo a bloodline verification with His Majesty, here and now."
Whispers rose again this time like a storm stirred from beneath the earth.
The Emperor remained silent, his gaze fixed on the parchment now held in the minister's hands.
⸻
Elsewhere…
Noble Consort Su Zhen seemed frozen, as if struck by some unseen curse.
All color had drained from her face, leaving her deathly pale.
The fan in her hand trembled.
Her lips pressed together tightly, then parted to release a dry, broken whisper.
"Impossible… Those documents… They were burned…"
Her voice was so faint, only the nearby eunuch could hear.
She had no idea how Xianlan had come into possession of them.
And she did not know that the one she trusted most might be the very blade now poised to strike her from behind.
But Xianlan never once looked her way. She returned to stand beside Feng Yuhan,
her expression calm, unsmiling yet burning with unwavering resolve.
⸻
That evening, within the Hall of Old Records
Wen Yuchen opened the sealed box delivered by Jiang Xinluo.
Inside was a hand-drawn image of an imperial physician,
alongside a line written in deliberate brushwork:
"The child with a scar on his left shoulder is the son of the dragon."
"Whoever bears this mark… is the one stolen from a mother burned in the shadows."
The young minister closed his eyes for a moment, then set the page down before him.
He understood they had all reached the point of no return.
⸻
Night, within the imperial palace
Emperor Li Sicheng stood motionless before an old painting.
His shadow stretched long across the cold stone floor as if asking silently:
If that day, I had not trusted the whispers of shadows…
If that day, I had not rushed to execute a woman to extinguish flames behind the harem doors…
Might everything have turned out differently?
But such "what ifs" are the kind that can never be retraced like a staircase of stone leading endlessly into the sky.
No matter how many times one walks its path, it shall never lead back to the place it once began.
⸻
New moon night – within the quarters of Noble Consort Su Zhen
The fragrance of plum blossoms, once thick in the air, had been replaced by the faint scent of smoldering sandalwood.
Su Zhen stood before a brass mirror, the lamplight flickering in her eyes like a dying flame.
She looked at the reflection of herself
the once-magnificent woman who dictated the rhythms of the inner court.
Now, she stood trembling… shaken to the core by the weight of a single piece of paper.
"Yu Fei… you've returned,"
she whispered hoarsely,
"Even if only through the blood of your son…"
The words hovered between a laugh and a sob but fell bitter and hollow in the silence.
"But did you forget…?
That the mother of that child… will never return again."
⸻
At that same hour within the Cold Palace…
Xianlan sat quietly by the window, her gaze resting on the sky where the moon had yet to rise.
Her hand remained gently placed atop the wooden box she had once held before the imperial court.
Jiang Xinluo stood silently not far away.
Between the two women, words were unnecessary their understanding ran deeper than speech.
After a long pause, Xianlan slowly closed her eyes and said:
"Once, I believed that truth itself was the highest pursuit."
"But now I see… the true trial lies not in discovering it, but in daring to speak it aloud amidst voices that seek to silence it."
Jiang Xinluo offered a faint smile, saying nothing in return.
She merely bowed her head slightly… and melted into the shadows once more, as was her way.
⸻
The following morning
Feng Yuhan stood before the Cold Palace, intent on delivering a few words he had long kept within.
But when he caught sight of Xianlan, seated alone in the courtyard with the first light of dawn falling softly upon her slender shoulders.
He fell silent. He did not dare disturb that moment of stillness.
Until her voice rose, calm and unhurried, though she never turned to look at him.
"Have you ever regretted speaking the truth?"
The young general paused, then walked toward her slowly.
He came to stand at her side, eyes resting on the grasses swaying in the morning breeze.
"I have regretted…" he said, his tone firm yet gentle,
"…letting the one who deserved to be heard remain silent and alone."
Xianlan glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
For the briefest moment her usually unreadable face softened… and it almost resembled a smile.
"Then today," she whispered,
"perhaps there is no regret left between us… is there?"
Feng Yuhan smiled and after a quiet breath, replied:
"Even if the road ahead remains a stone staircase with no end…
I will walk beside you, so you'll never have to tread it alone."
⸻
In the deep shadows of the capital's military camp…
Li Wenlong stood reading a letter sent by Wen Yuchen.
Inside were handwritten notes from an imperial physician alongside a diagram marking the birthmarks upon his body, each one corresponding exactly to the ancient records of a long-lost imperial prince.
He clenched the box of documents tightly in one hand, then murmured softly to himself:
"Mother… I do not know what kind of life I once lived."
"But from this day forward… I will carry your will not with title or rank, but with truth."
*********
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