The letter arrived at dawn.
It was not sealed with the Emperor's dragon emblem, nor marked with the stiff calligraphy of court correspondence. The handwriting was fluid, confident, and elegant without flourish.
Zhu Mingyu's handwriting.
The Empress broke the seal with a small blade carved from bone, her fingers steady even as the scent of crushed sandalwood rose faintly from the parchment.
She read it once.
Then again.
Then a third time before folding it neatly into the sleeve of her robe.
She said nothing for a long while.
Outside her private chambers, the early morning chill had not yet lifted, and the palace servants moved like shadows in the gray light. A few lingered too long near her door, pretending to sweep leaves or polish a lantern. She made a small note of each one.
"You," she said softly, not raising her voice.
A girl stilled mid-step.
