Crown Princess’s Quarters – Morning

The day began like any other.

Soft music played. Silks rustled. Incense curled lazily in the air.
Shen Lianhua sat at her writing table, composing a letter to the dowager aunt she never intended to send.

Across the room, her maid Xiao Fen brought in the morning tea tray—three porcelain cups, hand-painted with plum blossoms.

“From the kitchens,” Fen chirped. “The imperial blend. Brewed just for you.”

Lianhua’s brush paused.

She had changed nothing in her routine. But something felt… off.

Too early. Too perfect.

Too eager.

She smiled.

“Thank you, Fen,” she said calmly. “Leave it here. I’ll pour for myself.”

As soon as Fen left, she reached for the side drawer of her desk—where she’d stashed a strip of silverleaf paper.

She dipped it into the first cup.

It turned black.

Poison.

A slow, measured breath. No scream. No panic.

Just strategy.

An Hour Later – Inner Garden

Lianhua sat beneath the almond tree, dressed in ceremonial blue, a book open in her lap. She sipped tea from a different cup, porcelain slightly chipped.

Zhou Mei’s spy, hidden on the outer walkway, watched.

Saw her drink.

And smiled.

Palace Hall – By Noon

The court buzzed.

The rumor spread like oil on fire:

The future Empress collapsed. Poisoned.

Only it wasn’t true.

Because at that very moment, Lianhua walked into the Grand Banquet Hall—alive, flawless, and utterly unbothered—carrying the poisoned cup in her hand.

Gasps echoed.

Even the Empress leaned forward.

“This cup,” Lianhua said clearly, “was meant to be my grave. Instead, it’s my message.”

She placed it at the center of the hall table.

“I do not fear those who hide in kitchens and corridors. I fear only the silence of justice.”

“And I will no longer be silent.”

Eyes turned. Nobles whispered. Servants fled.

Somewhere behind the screens, Zhou Mei choked on her tea.

That Night – Crown Prince’s Study

Li Shenzhao stood behind her as she retold every detail of the attempt.

“You handled it like a queen already,” he said.

“Not yet,” she replied. “But soon.”

He stepped closer. Quietly.

“They want to destroy you before the wedding.”

“Then let’s move it up,” she said.

He paused. “Are you sure?”

She turned to him.

“I’d rather marry you in armor than in mourning robes.”

He smiled.

“Then we forge ahead. Together.”