Chapter Six: The Moonlight Banquet

The Moonlight Banquet arrived like thunder behind silk. It was the first grand court gathering since the consort's illness—and her slow, controversial recovery under Li Meiyun's care. The garden terraces were transformed into a shimmering stage of light: jade lanterns hung like captured fireflies, incense curled around the stone lions, and wine flowed freely from dragon-carved pitchers.

But beneath the surface: tension. The nobility smiled too hard. Laughed too loudly. Watched too closely.

Li Meiyun stood beside Lady Yuwen on the outer ring of the banquet, assigned as assistant herbalist and strictly forbidden from speaking to anyone unless addressed. A precaution, no doubt. They feared her words more than her herbs.

Still, she saw it all. Noticed what others didn't.

Prince Wei Lian, seated at his father's left, wore ceremonial black again. A deliberate choice—no longer just mourning. He was making a statement. Meiyun couldn't hear what he whispered to the Emperor, but it made the old man's lips twitch.

"Eyes down," Lady Yuwen hissed. "You're not here to observe the stars."

"They shine anyway," Meiyun murmured.

Before Yuwen could snap back, a trumpet call pierced the air. The arrival of the final guest. Heads turned as the masked figure stepped forward—robes of white and silver, face veiled in fine cloth, bearing an invitation marked only with the royal seal.

Whispers erupted.

"An envoy?"

"From which house?"

"No house would dare mask themselves before the Emperor..."

And yet, the Emperor did not scowl. He raised one eyebrow, curious. "We have not met," he said.

"No, Your Majesty," the guest replied. The voice was smooth, melodic—neither clearly male nor female. "I come on behalf of a healer long unseen."

Even Yuwen stiffened.

"A healer?" the Emperor echoed. "You are from the White Lotus Sect?"

The masked guest bowed. "The disciple of a disciple. We bring a gift, to honor the Prince's survival."

Wei Lian raised his glass but said nothing.

From within their sleeve, the envoy produced a scroll sealed with black wax. The eunuchs brought it forward. A court official cracked it open, read the contents—then paled.

"It's... a record of formulas. Forbidden herbs. Methods for reversing qi damage. These... these were banned by the old court during the Bai Dynasty."

Murmurs surged like a wave.

"Why now?" the Emperor asked. "Why return with this?"

The envoy lifted their head slightly. "Because the sickness in your court runs deeper than you know. You've seen only the surface. What lies beneath is far worse."

Everyone turned toward the Emperor, expecting fury.

Instead, he smiled.

"Then let the sickness rise. And let the strongest healer crush it."

---

That night, Meiyun sat alone beneath the plum blossoms, replaying the guest's words. Was this a challenge? An ally? Or a trap dressed in silk?

"You look like you're plotting rebellion," a familiar voice said.

She turned—Wei Lian stood behind her, holding a flask.

"I'm not plotting," she said.

"That's what all good plotters say."

He sat beside her, silent for a beat. Then:

"Do you trust them?"

Meiyun didn't answer right away. "I trust signs. Patterns. And the timing of that scroll was no coincidence."

"They're trying to provoke you," he said.

"Maybe. Or they're trying to help me survive long enough to provoke someone else."

He laughed softly. "You sound like me."

She smiled. "Maybe that's why we're both still alive."

Silence stretched between them again—but this time, not heavy. Just... curious.

Then, in the darkness beyond the trees, a figure moved.

Meiyun stood. "We're being watched."

"I know," Wei Lian said, rising beside her.

Another figure stepped out of the shadows. Not masked. Not dressed in finery. But carrying something familiar.

A symbol.

The White Lotus tattoo—marked clearly on their wrist.

"We need to talk," they said.

Meiyun nodded slowly. "We really do."