The palace didn't move in loud ways.
It shifted like thread pulling through silk—quiet, smooth… but sharp. And some threads could strangle.
"Her name is Meiyun," Chun'er whispered. "She's Consort Ning's most trusted personal maid. Always close."
I nodded. "What else?"
"She delivers notes—late at night. Not inside the palace but outside the Ministry of Rites."
That was dangerous.
The Ministry of Rites controlled rankings, ceremonies, noble titles. If someone was bribing their way through…
That someone was planning a rise.
And Meiyun was carrying the rope.
"How do you know?" I asked.
Chun'er lowered her voice even more.
"One of the laundry girls saw her. She was paid two silver coins to stay quiet. I gave her three to talk."
I smiled.
"Good."
That night, I studied Meiyun's writing. I'd seen it once on a label she left on Consort Ning's tea pouch.
Slanted strokes. Narrow spacing. Slight curl on her capital characters.
I practiced once.
Then again and again. I kept at it until I was satisfied with the accuracy.
Then I wrote a letter.
"The gift has been delivered. The Lady believes the promotion will be granted after the Spring Festival. Her gratitude is eternal. As agreed, the seal remains between us."
Not too bold and not too plain.
Just suspicious enough. Then I folded the letter, sealed it with wax, and handed it off.
The next morning, I passed through the Hall of Records.
A tired scribe was copying documents at the far table. His sleeves dragged across the bench. His ink bottle was nearly dry.
He rose with a sigh to fetch more.
I stopped beside his desk.
A neat stack of scrolls sat waiting for delivery.
I slid my letter halfway into the middle— just deep enough to look like it had always been there.
Then I kept walking. He would deliver it without ever knowing.
⸻
Two days later, the emperor sat in his study holding the letter and said nothing.
Just stared at it for awhile then handed it to Eunuch Lin.
"Call in Meiyun," he said. "No one else."
⸻
Meiyun was taken quietly.
No public punishment.
Just a long conversation with two officials and an empty chair.
She denied everything. Ofcourse she did.
But the shake in her voice and hands did not go unnoticed.
And the emperor?
He said nothing.
He's watching now.
⸻
Consort Ning didn't show up to dinner that night.
She stayed in her pavilion.
Alone.
Surrounded by silence.
She didn't cry.
But she sat motionless, fingers frozen on her teacup.
Someone had moved against her.
Not openly.
Not loudly.
But with precision.
A trap.
A noose.
And it was closing.