Chapter 1 - The poisoned cup
The palace of the Yáo dynasty glittered beneath a thousand lanterns. Golden light spilled across polished jade floors, catching on silken robes and jeweled crowns as the royal court gathered for the Mid-Autumn banquet. Music from guqin strings lilted in the background, graceful and sharp, like the whisper of hidden daggers.
At the high table sat Princess Yáo Xīnyí, first daughter of Emperor Yáo Zhèng. Born of Consort Lán — gentle, kind, but frail in health — Xīnyí was cherished for her elegance and beauty. Yet behind her serene smile was a girl raised on caution, for in the imperial palace, even affection was edged with danger.
Across from her sat Empress Wēi, the woman the Emperor had elevated to his side after Xīnyí’s mother fell ill. Draped in phoenix-embroidered robes, the Empress’s eyes gleamed with a smile too polished, too rehearsed. At her side was her daughter, Yáo Mèiyún, younger by two years. Mèiyún was lovely, her every gesture calculated to charm, but her gaze burned with envy whenever it rested on Xīnyí.
Xīnyí knew this look well. Since childhood, she had endured her half-sister’s whispered insults, the Empress’s subtle slights, the slow tightening of a noose only she seemed to notice. Still, she carried herself as a princess must — head high, voice soft, smile untrembling.
Beside her chair stood Qín Rú, her loyal maid since childhood. Rú’s hands were steady as she poured tea, but tonight Xīnyí caught the flicker of unease in her servant’s eyes.
The Emperor raised his goblet. “Tonight, we honor harmony and prosperity,” he declared. His voice echoed through the hall, commanding and detached, as though harmony were something decreed rather than lived.
Xīnyí lifted her own cup, filled moments before with sweet-scented wine. But as it neared her lips, her senses pricked — the faintest bitterness clung to the air, sharp against the sweetness of osmanthus.
Her gaze flicked upward. Across the table, Empress Wēi watched her with placid delight. Mèiyún hid a smirk behind her fan. Qín Rú’s hand trembled as she adjusted the lantern beside her mistress.
The hall erupted in cheers as courtiers toasted. Xīnyí forced a smile, but her heart pounded. If she refused the cup, the Empress would whisper of disobedience. If she drank…
She drank.
The liquid slid down like fire. A searing burn coiled in her throat, spreading like claws to her chest. Xīnyí’s vision blurred; the laughter of nobles twisted into cruel echoes. She staggered to her feet, silk robes whispering against jade as the goblet fell from her grasp. Scarlet wine splashed across her sleeves, blooming like blood.
“Elder Sister?” Mèiyún’s voice rang mockingly sweet. “Are you unwell?”
The hall blurred. Faces stretched into shadows. Xīnyí collapsed to her knees, the cold of the stone searing into her palms. Qín Rú cried out, rushing forward, but distant and faint, like through water.
Her breath rattled. Darkness pressed in. So this is betrayal, she thought bitterly, tasting iron on her tongue. If Heaven grants me another chance, I will never be so powerless again.
The music faltered. The court whispered. And with one last ragged breath, Princess Yáo Xīnyí’s world went black.
Yet in that darkness, a strange pull awaited — as if fate itself had not finished with her story.
