Xin Ying was rinsing dust from the stone steps when the shadow fell across her work.
At first, she thought it was simply the clouds shifting overhead. Then the light did not return.
"Xin Ying."
Her hand stilled.
She looked up slowly.
Two palace guards stood several steps away, their armor polished, expressions unreadable. They were not the kind assigned to scold servants or escort the disobedient. These guards belonged to the inner court.
Yun Qiao, scrubbing beside her, went pale.
"Yes?" Xin Ying answered, keeping her voice steady.
"You are summoned," one guard said. "Follow."
No explanation.
No room for refusal.
Xin Ying rose, wiping her hands against her robes. Her heartbeat was calm—too calm. Somewhere deep inside, the teacher who once faced classrooms full of restless students steadied her breathing.
This is the moment, she thought. The ripple becomes a current.
As she walked, the Palace changed.
Outer corridors gave way to polished halls. Stone floors reflected the ceiling beams. Incense burned softly, its scent heavy and refined. Servants stepped aside without question, lowering their heads as the guards passed.
Xin Ying kept her gaze lowered, counting her steps.
She was brought before tall wooden doors carved with cloud-and-dragon motifs. The guards pushed them open.
Inside, the air was cool and quiet.
Four figures sat arranged around a low table.
Xin Ying knelt immediately, forehead touching the floor.
Xin Ying greets the honored lords and lady.
Silence stretched.
"Raise your head," a gentle voice said.
Xin Ying obeyed.
Wang Tianhua sat nearest the window, dressed in pale robes, his expression warm but observant. His gaze carried no threat—only curiosity.
Beside him sat Li Yuetong, posture straight, her presence sharp and commanding even in stillness. Her eyes assessed Xin Ying like a general studying terrain.
Zhang Shuqin sat opposite, hands folded, his expression calm and unreadable—neither friendly nor cold.
And then there was Ling Zhihao.
He leaned back slightly, one arm resting lazily on the table, his smile faint and inscrutable. His eyes were sharp—far too sharp.
"So," Ling Zhihao said lightly, "this is the servant who solved the theft without being asked."
Xin Ying lowered her gaze. "This servant merely spoke what she observed."
"Hm." Wang Tianhua smiled. "Modest."
Li Yuetong spoke next, her voice even. "You noticed water residue, misaligned lanterns, and jade dust. That requires training—or experience."
Xin Ying answered honestly. " I grew up working in the farm and village. Observation was survival."
Zhang Shuqin studied her for a long moment. "You spoke to prevent collective punishment."
"Yes," Xin Ying said quietly. "It was unjust."
The room stilled.
Ling Zhihao chuckled softly. "Interesting choice of words."
Xin Ying did not respond.
Wang Tianhua set his cup down. "The Palace lacks people who see clearly and speak only when necessary."
Li Yuetong nodded. "Such qualities are wasted on menial labor."
Zhang Shuqin exhaled slowly. "If she is to be used, it should be in service of stability."
All eyes turned, briefly, toward Ling Zhihao.
He smiled wider. "Then we agree."
Xin Ying's breath caught—just slightly.
Li Yuetong spoke formally. "By joint decision of the four great clans, Xin Ying will be reassigned."
Wang Tianhua continued, "She will serve within the inner Palace."
Zhang Shuqin added, "Under supervision."
Ling Zhihao's gaze lingered on her. "And eventually—if she proves worthy—she will serve the Empress directly."
The words settled like snow.
Serve the Empress.
Xin Ying bowed deeply, her forehead touching the floor once more.
"I will not disappoint."
As she was led away, none of them spoke again.
But as the doors closed behind her, Ling Zhihao's voice drifted softly through the chamber.
"Watch her carefully."
That night, Yun Qiao clutched Xin Ying's sleeve.
"You're leaving the outer quarters," she whispered. "Do you know what that means?"
Xin Ying looked toward the inner halls, lantern light shimmering in the distance.
"It means," she said quietly, "your life no longer belongs to me alone."
Beyond stone walls and silk curtains, the Empress ruled—unaware that fate had begun to move closer to her steps.
And Xin Ying, once a teacher, once a slave, now stood at the edge of history.
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