The Palace of Serene Harmony shimmered under the morning sun, its tiled roofs gleaming like dragon scales. Princess Yuzhu, now six months old, lay in her mother's arms, her tiny body swaddled in silk embroidered with silver lotuses. Her eyes, sharp and alert beyond her age, followed the dance of light through the lattice windows. Guifei Wei's chambers were a sanctuary of rosewood furniture and jasmine-scented air, but to Mei Hua's restless soul, they were a gilded cage. Her infant form constrained her, yet her mind churned with memories of betrayal and the burning need for justice.
Guifei Wei hummed a soft melody, her fingers tracing the curve of Yuzhu's cheek. "My little pearl," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "You watch the world as if you understand its secrets." Her eyes, warm but shadowed with worry, lingered on her daughter. Mei Hua felt a pang of guilt—she could not yet speak to ease her mother's fears, could not warn her of the dangers she sensed in every visitor's smile.
The past months had been a delicate dance of survival. The emperor's favor cloaked Yuzhu in protection, but it also painted a target on her back. Empress Zhang's visits were rare but heavy with scrutiny, her phoenix crown a constant reminder of her dominion over the harem. Consort Shu's frequent gifts—silk booties, jade rattles—came with honeyed words that Mei Hua recognized as bait. Consort Li, ever ambitious, sent scrolls of poetry laced with subtle barbs about fleeting beauty. Even the maids whispered, their gossip a web of intrigue that Yuzhu, trapped in her cradle, could only observe.
Today, the air held a new tension. A eunuch's voice rang out beyond the chamber doors: "Her Majesty, Empress Zhang, honors the Palace of Serene Harmony with her presence." Guifei Wei's posture stiffened, though her face remained serene. She set Yuzhu in her cradle, adjusting the silk canopy to shield her daughter's face. "Stay quiet, my love," she whispered, though Mei Hua needed no warning. Her infant instincts screamed to wail, but her mind clamped down, forcing silence.
The doors opened, and Empress Zhang swept in, her crimson robes trailing like a river of fire. Her phoenix crown glittered, its gold filigree catching the light. Behind her trailed two maids, one carrying a lacquered box, the other a scroll tied with gold thread. The empress's eyes, sharp as a hawk's, flicked to Yuzhu's cradle before settling on Guifei Wei.
"Guifei," the empress said, her voice smooth as polished jade. "The court speaks of nothing but your little princess. I thought it time to see her for myself." Her smile was impeccable, but Mei Hua felt the chill beneath it, a shadow of the cold disdain Madam Fang had wielded in her past life.
Guifei Wei bowed, her movements graceful despite the tension in her shoulders. "Your Majesty honors us. Yuzhu is but a humble child, blessed only by the emperor's love."
The empress's fan flicked open, its painted peonies a stark contrast to her calculating gaze. "Humility is a virtue, but the emperor's favor is no small thing. A princess born under the White Tiger's star… the astrologers say she is destined for greatness. Or peril." Her eyes lingered on the cradle, and Mei Hua's tiny heart raced. She knows something, Mei Hua thought, her mind grasping at fragments of her past. The White Tiger, a symbol of strength and danger—had the heavens marked her for this path?
The empress gestured, and a maid stepped forward with the lacquered box. "A gift for Princess Yuzhu," she said. The box opened to reveal a jade amulet carved with a coiling dragon, its eyes inlaid with tiny rubies. "To ward off evil spirits," the empress added, her tone light but her gaze heavy.
Guifei Wei accepted the amulet with a bow, her fingers brushing the cool jade. "Your generosity humbles us, Your Majesty. Yuzhu will cherish it."
Mei Hua's eyes narrowed, though her infant face betrayed nothing. The amulet was exquisite, but its weight felt wrong—a talisman, perhaps, or worse, a tool for surveillance. In her past life, Madam Fang had gifted her a similar trinket, a hairpin laced with slow poison. She could not inspect it now, but she vowed to watch it closely.
The empress lingered, exchanging pleasantries with Guifei Wei, her words a delicate dance of power. She spoke of the emperor's recent campaign against the northern tribes, of the crown prince's studies, of the upcoming Lantern Festival. But her eyes returned to Yuzhu, as if searching for a crack in the infant's facade. Mei Hua held her gaze, her tiny body still, her soul defiant. You will not break me, she thought, her resolve a flame kindled by betrayal.
When the empress finally departed, her maids trailing like shadows, Guifei Wei exhaled, her composure softening. She lifted Yuzhu, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You are stronger than they know," she whispered, as if sensing her daughter's hidden fire. Mei Hua cooed, a sound that masked her racing thoughts. She needed to grow, to speak, to act—but for now, she could only observe and plan.
That evening, Prince Jing slipped into the chamber, his young face serious. At ten, he was already tall, his eyes sharp with the weight of the palace's intrigues. He knelt by Yuzhu's cradle, peering at her with a mix of curiosity and protectiveness. "Mother says you're special," he said softly. "But Consort Shu was here again, asking about you. She smiled too much."
Mei Hua's heart ached. Jing's innocence reminded her of her own, before the Fang family's betrayal. She wanted to warn him, to tell him to trust no one, but her infant body allowed only a soft gurgle. Jing smiled, mistaking it for affection. "I'll protect you, little sister," he promised, his small hand brushing her cheek.
Guifei Wei, seated at her embroidery table, looked up. "Jing'er, you must be cautious. The court is a garden of thorns, and Yuzhu is a flower they will seek to pluck."
Jing nodded, his jaw set. "I'll learn the sword better, Mother. And I'll watch Consort Shu."
As night fell, the palace lanterns cast long shadows across the chamber. Mei Hua lay awake, her infant eyes fixed on the flickering light. Her thoughts drifted to the Fang family, to the jade pendant she had lost in her final moments. The pendant was no mere heirloom—it was the key to the Fang treasure room, a vault said to hold a map to the Dragon's Vein, a legendary network of spiritual ley lines that could grant its master dominion over Da Qi. Madam Fang and Lihua had killed her for it, believing she was too weak to guard its secret.
But they had underestimated her, even in death. The heavens had granted her this second life, and she would not waste it. The Fang family, she knew, was far from the capital, their manor nestled in the southern hills. Had they unlocked the treasure room? Had her father, General Shen, learned of her murder? The questions gnawed at her, but answers were beyond her reach—for now.
A memory surfaced, sharp and vivid: her father's voice, steady as the mountains, as he pressed the jade pendant into her hands. "Guard it, Mei Hua," he had said. "It is our clan's legacy, and yours to protect." She had failed him then, but she would not fail again. The pendant was still out there, in Fang Manor or in the hands of her killers. She would find it, and with it, the map that could shift the balance of power.
The next morning brought another visitor—Consort Li, her crimson robes a bold contrast to the chamber's muted elegance. She carried a scroll, its silk ribbon embroidered with cranes. "A poem for Princess Yuzhu," she said, her voice sweet but her eyes calculating. "To celebrate her half-year in this world."
Guifei Wei accepted the scroll with a polite smile, unrolling it to reveal elegant calligraphy. Mei Hua, propped in her mother's arms, glimpsed the words: A pearl shines bright, but shadows wait. The veiled threat was clear, and her tiny fists clenched. Consort Li's smile widened, as if sensing her unease.
"The emperor speaks highly of her," Consort Li continued, her gaze flicking to Yuzhu. "But a princess must be strong to survive the court's storms."
"She will be," Guifei Wei said firmly, her hand tightening around Yuzhu. "The emperor's favor is her shield, and my love her strength."
Consort Li's smile faltered, but she bowed and withdrew, leaving a faint scent of jasmine in her wake. Mei Hua's mind raced. The court was a battlefield, and she was a soldier without a weapon—yet. She needed to grow, to learn the palace's secrets, to uncover the threads connecting the Fang family to the imperial court. Were Madam Fang and Lihua scheming from afar, or had they allies here, whispering poison into the harem's ears?
As the days turned to weeks, Yuzhu's world expanded. She began to crawl, her tiny body driven by a will far older than her months. Guifei Wei watched with pride, unaware of the memories fueling her daughter's determination. Prince Jing became her shadow, his presence a comfort amid the court's scheming. One afternoon, as he carried her through the palace gardens, the scent of plum blossoms stirred a memory of her past life—her father planting a tree in their courtyard, his hands rough but gentle.
"Father," she tried to say, but only a babble emerged. Jing laughed, hoisting her higher. "You're eager to talk, aren't you?" he said. "Don't rush, little sister. The palace isn't kind to those who speak too soon."
Mei Hua's heart burned. She would speak, and when she did, her words would be a blade. The Fang family's treachery, the jade pendant, the Dragon's Vein—all were pieces of a puzzle she would solve. The emperor's favor, her mother's love, and her brother's loyalty were her foundation. But the court was a labyrinth of lies, and she would need more than love to survive.
That night, as the moon hung low over the Palace of Serene Harmony, a strange sound woke Mei Hua—a faint scratching, like a rat in the walls. She lay still, her infant senses sharp. The sound came from the lacquered screen by the door, where a shadow moved, too tall for a maid. Her tiny body tensed, her mind screaming a warning she could not voice. Someone was watching, waiting. The Fang family's reach, it seemed, extended even here.
Guifei Wei stirred, her hand reaching for the cradle. "Yuzhu?" she whispered, her voice thick with sleep. The scratching stopped, and the shadow vanished. Mei Hua's heart pounded, her resolve hardening. The game was far from over, but she was no longer the naive girl of Fang Manor. She was Princess Yuzhu, reborn under the White Tiger's star, and she would claim her vengeance—one careful step at a time.