The triple beat of ceremonial drums echoed through the palace late that morning—
signaling the arrival of envoys from the Kingdom of Jianrong,
a neutral state nestled between Li and Southern Yan, long respected for maintaining its impartial stance for decades.
But this year, the chief envoy was not the usual seasoned official.
Instead, a poised young woman led the procession—
dressed in pale blue silk embroidered with silver peony petals, she walked forward unflinching, radiating quiet power.
"Jiang Xinluo… Special Envoy of Jianrong,"
the head eunuch announced in a clear, commanding voice.
All eyes turned.
Some gazed in awe—she was far too young to be a diplomat.
Others looked on in surprise—her beauty rivaled even Noble Consort Su in her prime.
But only Xianlan's eyes were not blank with curiosity.
…She remembered immediately.
⸻
In her past life, Jiang Xinluo had visited the Li palace once before—
as a representative tasked with presenting the "Tapestry of Friendship" between kingdoms.
And on that occasion—though she held no official rank in the ceremony—
she had gotten within a step of Feng Yuhan,
a distance no one had been granted.
Just one step—
and her status shifted from "guest"… to threat.
⸻
After the welcome ceremony, the Emperor invited the envoy delegation to a lotus garden tea gathering.
Jiang Xinluo took a seat diagonally across from Xianlan—whether by design or coincidence, no one could say.
Raising her cup delicately, her eyes met Xianlan's with clear intent.
Then she spoke—without preamble.
"I've heard His Majesty has but one daughter—graceful, modest, and clever."
"Now I see… the rumors were not exaggerated."
Xianlan set her teacup down and gave a slight smile—
neither too submissive, nor too stern.
"You're quite striking yourself. I suppose I'll have to add your name to my list of people 'not to underestimate.'"
Jiang Xinluo laughed—light, but far from fragile.
"Indeed. I imagine your list grows by the day…"
"Especially the section titled 'women who get close to foreign crown princes.'"
⸻
The words were cloaked in a smile,
but their meaning was sharp:
"I know you've grown close to Feng Yuhan."
Xianlan didn't respond—
but she recognized at once that this woman was no ordinary envoy.
She was a spy—
trained to read hearts and place her pieces where others wouldn't dare.
⸻
After the tea gathering, Xianlan walked back to her residence with one attendant.
As she passed along a quiet wooden corridor, Jiang Xinluo caught up with her.
"Princess… May I walk with you?"
Her voice was gentle—so gentle it stirred caution.
"Be my guest."
The two women walked in silence for a few moments.
Then Jiang Xinluo spoke again:
"I know you're clever—clever enough to realize that not everyone at your side is truly 'on your side.'"
"And I… am not on anyone's side at all."
"I only want to survive in a world ruled by men—just like you."
Xianlan stopped walking.
"If you want to survive," she said quietly,
"then don't step on corpses to get there."
"Because I won't be one so easily buried."
Jiang Xinluo smiled once more—
but this time, there was something else in her gaze.
A flicker of… respect, perhaps.
Hidden, but undeniable.
⸻
In the shadow of a distant pillar,
Feng Yuhan stood silently, unreadable.
But he had heard every word of their exchange.
"The spy from Jianrong…"
"And the princess from Li…"
"Neither is a flower…"
"They're both thorns—waiting for the right moment to pierce."