Chapter one: Ashes of a pass life

The northern winds howled across the frost-laden plains of Da Qi, carrying the distant clang of steel and the sharp scent of pine through the frigid air. It was the cusp of winter, 520 AD, and the Fang Manor loomed as a somber silhouette against the gray horizon, its high stone walls guarding secrets older than the empire itself.

Within its labyrinthine corridors, Shen Mei Hua knelt on the icy floor of the ancestral hall, her slender frame quivering beneath the tattered remnants of her crimson wedding robes, stained with the grime of her ordeal. At twenty-two, she was the Di daughter of General Shen, a woman of gentle beauty and naive heart, married into the Fang family to cement an alliance between their military clans. Her dark hair, once adorned with jade pins, now hung in disheveled strands, and her delicate hands—soft from years of managing household duties—clutched a small, teardrop-shaped pendant, its surface etched with faint, cryptic lines. This pendant, a cherished heirloom from her father, was more than a keepsake; it was the key to the Fang Manor's treasure room, a vault rumored to hold not only untold riches but a secret map critical to Da Qi's military dominance—a map to the Dragon's Vein, a mythical source of power.

Mei Hua's wide, tear-filled eyes darted between the two figures towering over her: Madam Fang, her mother-in-law, a woman of sixty with a face like carved ivory, her lips twisted in a sneer, and Lihua, her sister-in-law, a lithe beauty of twenty-five whose smile concealed a serpent's venom. The air was heavy with the acrid scent of burning incense, the ancestral tablets glaring down from their altar, mute witnesses to the treachery unfolding. Mei Hua's husband, Fang Wei, was absent, summoned to the border by his father, leaving her defenseless against the family's schemes.

"You disgrace this house, Mei Hua," Madam Fang spat, her voice slicing through the stillness like a blade. "A simpleton from a military line, thinking you can guard the key to our legacy? Your father's blind affection deludes him about your worth." She advanced, her silk slippers clicking against the stone, and wrenched the pendant from Mei Hua's trembling grasp. The sudden theft sent a jolt through Mei Hua's body, her fingers grasping at the air where the jade had been.

Lihua's laughter rang out, sharp and brittle, her delicate hands adjusting the hairpin that pinned her own lustrous hair. "Look at her, Mother—clinging to trinkets like a child. She's unfit for Wei, let alone the treasure room's secrets." Her gaze lingered on Mei Hua's remaining valuables—a pair of jade earrings, a silk pouch of silver taels—her intent unmistakable. The Fang women had long despised Mei Hua's innocence, her inability to match their cunning, and now they aimed to eliminate her to secure the pendant and the map it unlocked.

Mei Hua's voice quavered as she pleaded, her naivety a fragile shield. "Please, I've served this family with all my heart. The pendant is my dowry—return it to me." Her words dissolved into the void. Madam Fang's hand lashed out, striking her cheek with a stinging blow, the cold floor beneath her knees a stark contrast to the burning pain. "Serve?" Madam Fang hissed. "Your clumsiness has shamed us. That maid of yours, caught with the steward—your failure to control her cost us honor!"

The maid, Xiao Lan, had been Mei Hua's closest confidante, a gift from her father's household. Her affair with the steward had become a scandal the Fangs exploited, punishing Mei Hua by forcing her to kneel in the ancestral hall for hours, the tablets' silent judgment pressing down. The ordeal had triggered a miscarriage, the loss of her unborn child a wound that still ached in her soul. Now, as Madam Fang loomed, Mei Hua grasped the depth of their loathing. The treasure room's map, they believed, would elevate the Fangs above all rivals, and her possession of the key threatened their dominion.

Lihua crouched beside her, her voice a venomous whisper. "Reveal the pendant's secret, or we'll strip you of more than your jewels." Mei Hua shook her head, her resolve wavering but intact. The secret—how to align the pendant's etchings with the treasure room's lock—was a trust from her father, and she would not betray it.

A glance passed between mother and daughter, sealing her fate. Madam Fang nodded to a servant, who presented a steaming cup of tea. "Drink," she ordered. Mei Hua's instincts screamed danger, but her weakened state left her powerless. The tea scorched her throat, a bitter taste spreading as her vision dimmed. "This is for the family's honor," Lihua murmured, pocketing Mei Hua's earrings as she collapsed. The last sound Mei Hua heard was their laughter, fading into an eternal darkness as her life slipped away.

Rebirth in the Palace

Mei Hua awoke to the gentle cooing of doves and the rustle of silk curtains, her senses assaulted by a warmth she had not felt in her final moments. Her body was small, fragile, her vision blurred by the haze of infancy. It was early spring, 521 AD, mere months after her death, and she found herself reborn as Princess Yuzhu, the only daughter of Noble Consort Wei in the resplendent Palace of Serene Harmony. The transition was a jarring shock, her mature soul encased in a newborn's form, her mind reeling with the vivid scars of her past life. The Fang betrayal, the miscarriage, the pendant's theft—they seared her consciousness, a silent oath to reclaim her destiny igniting within her.

The chamber was a vision of splendor, its walls draped with tapestries depicting phoenixes and peonies, the air infused with the delicate fragrance of jasmine. Noble Consort Wei, a woman of ethereal beauty with cascading dark hair spilling over a sapphire robe embroidered with silver phoenixes, cradled Yuzhu tenderly. "My jade pearl," Wei whispered, adjusting the infant's silk cap, its pearl tassels swaying gently. At just two months old, Yuzhu's eyes—dark and startlingly perceptive—followed the maids as they arranged trays of osmanthus cakes and poured jasmine tea, her newborn mind already attuned to the palace's rhythms.

The emperor, Zhao, entered with a regal flourish, his black robes adorned with golden dragons catching the soft light of the late afternoon. His presence dominated the room, a commanding yet warm figure whose lined face softened as his gaze fell upon Wei and Yuzhu. "My daughter," he said, his voice a deep rumble as he approached. He extended his arms, and Wei gently placed Yuzhu into his hold. The infant princess, guided by Mei Hua's instinct, cooed softly and clung to his robe, her tiny hands grasping the embroidered fabric with surprising strength. The emperor's eyes widened, a rare smile breaking across his features. "She knows me already," he murmured, his large hand brushing her cheek. "A marvel, this child."

The room stilled, the maids exchanging awed glances, while Wei's face lit with pride, though a flicker of unease danced in her eyes. Yuzhu's coo and cling had been no accident—Mei Hua's will had driven the gesture, a calculated move to secure the emperor's favor. In this life, she was adored, a princess born under the White Tiger star, a celestial sign of protection and power. The emperor's affection was a shield, but also a magnet for the court's envy.

Wei knelt, her robes pooling like a sapphire pool. "Your Majesty honors us," she said, her voice steady yet soft. The emperor waved a hand, dismissing formalities. "Rise, Wei. This child is a gift beyond measure." He set Yuzhu back into her mother's arms, his expression growing solemn. "The court is a tempest, and Yuzhu is a beacon within it. I will guard that light." Turning to a eunuch, he commanded, "Prepare an edict. Noble Consort Wei is elevated to Noble Imperial Consort, second only to the empress, for her blessing of Princess Yuzhu." The eunuch bowed, his face unreadable, as the order was set in motion.

The news rippled through the palace like a stone cast into still water, carried by eunuchs and maids to every courtyard and pavilion. By evening, the harem hummed with whispers, a storm of envy and ambition cloaked in silk and smiles. In the Palace of Eternal Spring, Empress Zhang reclined in her opulent chambers, her phoenix crown glinting as she listened to her maid, Lanfen, relay the edict. The room was a study in excess—jade vases, gold-threaded tapestries, and a throne-like chair carved with phoenixes. Zhang's fan moved slowly, her voice cold as winter. "Noble Imperial Consort," she murmured. "Wei grows bold, and the emperor indulges her. That infant's cling—too clever by half." Her fingers tightened on the fan, its ivory creaking softly. Beside her, Lady of Beauty Xu sipped tea, her delicate features masking a mind as sharp as a blade.

"An infant's instinct, or something more?" Xu mused, her tone laced with disdain. "The astrologers claim she's blessed, but blessings can be curses in disguise. Wei's rise strengthens her—watch the cradle closely." Zhang's eyes narrowed, drifting to a jade chessboard, its pieces carved as dragons and phoenixes. "We must move with care. Wei's favor could unseat my son's claim."

In the Pavilion of Jade Clarity, Consort Shu lounged on a low couch, her pale green robes pooling like a lotus leaf. Her courtyard, a vision of serenity with bamboo groves, a koi pond, and stone lanterns, belied her restless spirit. She toyed with a jade bracelet, her fingers tracing its smooth surface as her maid, Mei Ling, knelt with a tray of lychee sweets. "Wei's elevation is a slap," Shu said, her voice low but venomous. "That child's cling to the emperor—unnatural for three months. Perhaps a trick, or a sign of imbalance." She tossed the bracelet onto the table, its clatter echoing. "I'll visit Wei tomorrow, offer congratulations. And I'll watch that cradle—closely."

Mei Ling's eyes widened, but she kept her head bowed. "The emperor dotes on her, my lady. The maids say he plans daily visits. Should we spread a whisper—Wei's health, perhaps?" Shu's smile was brittle. "Yes. A rumor of frailty, or that child's oddity. Let the court turn its eye."

In the Hall of Crimson Splendor, Worthy Consort Li stood before a bronze mirror, adjusting a crane-shaped hairpin, her crimson robes vibrant as blood. Her courtyard was a riot of color—vermilion pillars, peony gardens, and silk lanterns swaying in the breeze. Her confidante, Lady of Talent Zhao, brushed ink onto a scroll, her calligraphy sharp and precise. "Wei's rise changes the game," Li said, her voice smooth but edged with ambition. "The emperor's favor flows to her, but tides shift. That infant's cling—too knowing. Is she a prodigy, or a Fang pawn?" She turned from the mirror, her eyes glinting.

Lady Zhao paused, her brush hovering. "A pawn, perhaps. The Fangs' past with General Shen lingers—Mei Hua's death was no accident. We could align with Shu, feed her doubts to spread." Li laughed, a sound like chiming bells. "Shu's a predictable snake. Let her strike first. If Wei stumbles, I'll be ready. Send her a ginseng gift—let her think me an ally." She crossed to a lacquered chest, pulling out a silk pouch, her mind already plotting.

Back in the Palace of Serene Harmony, Noble Imperial Consort Wei sat with Yuzhu, her new title a mantle she wore with grace. The emperor's visit had left the chambers alive with activity, maids whispering of the edict, their eyes wide with awe. Yuzhu, cradled in Wei's lap, felt the undercurrents of danger. Mei Hua's mind churned, her coo and cling a spark that had ignited both love and envy. She thought of the Fang family, their manor far from the capital, their treasure room hiding the jade pendant and the map to the Dragon's Vein. Had they unlocked its secrets? Did they know she lived again, reborn as a princess? The questions burned, but her infant form was a cage, her voice limited to soft coos.

Wei's fingers wove through Yuzhu's sparse hair, braiding it with a silk ribbon. "You clung to him, my pearl," she said softly, her voice holding pride and a trace of fear. "The palace trembles, but you are our light. The empress will not forgive this, nor will Shu or Li. We must be vigilant." Yuzhu wanted to nod, to promise her mother she would fight, but her body allowed only a gentle coo. She thought of Madam Fang's sneer, Lihua's greedy hands, the poisoned tea—echoes of a past she would not repeat.

Prince Jing entered, his blue robes dusty from sword practice. At ten, he was growing into his role as Wei's protector, his young face serious. "Mother, the maids say the empress sent a jade amulet. Should we trust it?" Wei's lips tightened. "We trust nothing, Jing'er. Keep it locked away until I can examine it." He knelt by Yuzhu, his eyes softening. "You're a marvel, little sister," he said, offering a wooden horse toy carved with care. "Cling to Father again tomorrow." He grinned, a rare flash of boyish joy, and Yuzhu cooed, her tiny hand brushing his.

That night, as lanterns cast golden pools across the chamber, a shadow moved beyond the lattice windows. Yuzhu, lying in her cradle, caught the flicker—a cloaked figure, pausing too long. Her infant body tensed, her mind screaming a warning she could not voice. The Fang family's reach, or the harem's? She could not tell, but her resolve crystallized. She was Princess Yuzhu, reborn under the White Tiger's star, and she would not be undone again. The emperor's favor was her shield, her mother's love her armor, and her brother's loyalty her sword. The jade pendant, the Dragon's Vein, the Fang family's treachery—all awaited her. She would grow, she would learn, and she would rise.

As the moon rose over the palace, Yuzhu closed her eyes, her infant cries silent but her soul ablaze. The court was a battlefield, and she was ready to claim her bittersweet victory.