Chapter 56 - Hanshen Ge
The Crown Prince's face was stern, his eyes sharp as daggers. He listened to the first wife's report and the trembling maid who had delivered it, his hands tightening into fists at his sides.
"Minhwa is with me," he said finally, his voice low but firm. "She has been in my quarters since last night. There is no disappearance. You will take the maid back and see that she understands her place."
The first wife's lips twitched, a flicker of suppressed anger. But she did not press further—not yet. The Crown Prince's gaze made it clear: he would not tolerate deception.
Turning to the maid, he continued, "As for you… you will be punished. Your negligence, and your willingness to become a pawn in this scheme, cannot go uncorrected."
The maid paled, realizing immediately that her complicity—or even her appearance of complicity—had marked her.
Guards were summoned, and she was given a severe beating, each strike a warning to anyone else who might try to frame Minhwa.
Word spread quickly through the courtyards and hallways. The other palace maids whispered in fear, watching as the punishment was carried out.
Everyone knew: the first wife had attempted to frame Minwha, and yet the Crown Prince had outmaneuvered her.
Meanwhile, Minhwa remained unaware of the chaos outside her chamber walls.
She played softly on her guqin, the gentle notes carrying her thoughts and emotions, oblivious to the storm of intrigue, punishment, and subtle political warfare unfolding beyond her door.
The Crown Prince, having ensured her safety and asserted his authority, allowed himself a quiet exhale. For now, Minhwa was protected. But he knew the first wife's machinations were far from over.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
After that day, no one in the palace dared disturb Minhwa again.
The message had been sent clearly: the Crown Prince protected what was his.
And so the palace quieted around her.
Every day after court sessions, he returned to her courtyard. Every evening, he remained. Laughter slowly replaced silence. The guqin was no longer only sorrowful; sometimes it carried warmth.
At night, the lanterns burned longer than usual.
They were in what could only be called a fragile honeymoon phase — stolen joy in a palace built on hierarchy and knives.
Three months passed like a dream.
While warmth filled the Crown Prince's courtyard—darkness spread beyond it.
The King collapsed during a late-night consultation.
Foam at his lips. A faint bitter scent in the tea.
By dawn, the palace was sealed.
The King was dead.
Whispers moved faster than the wind.
Poison.
And suspicion fell where it had long lingered — the Second Prince.
The truth surfaced quickly.
The Second Prince had bribed one of the imperial kitchen supervisors months prior.
A rare powdered toxin — colorless, tasteless — derived from crushed white oleander petals and arsenic compounds had been mixed in microscopic doses into the King's nightly calming tea.
Not enough to kill immediately. Enough to weaken him slowly.
When the King's health began declining, the Second Prince ensured the imperial physicians misdiagnosed it as age and fatigue.
On the final night, the full dose was administered.
By morning, the throne was empty.
The Crown Prince did not sleep.
He could hardly sit.
He gathered evidence, interrogated servants, traced silver exchanges, uncovered secret letters bearing the Second Prince's seal.
He prepared for war inside the palace while preparing for coronation.
He barely visited Minhwa. And she did not complain.
Then Minhwa began vomiting.
At first, she dismissed it. "It must be something I ate," she told the maids gently.
But the nausea did not stop
One afternoon, while the palace hummed with funeral rites and political rearrangements—
Minhwa fainted.
Her secret guard, always hidden in shadow by the prince's order, rushed forward.
The imperial physician was summoned immediately.
By the time the Crown Prince arrived, breath uneven from rushing through corridors—
The physician bowed.
"Congratulations… Your Highness."
"She carries your child."
The world stopped.
For a moment, the chaos of succession, treason, and blood vanished.
He was going to be a father.
His hand trembled.
But the palace was still in mourning.
His father's body had not yet been lowered into the imperial tomb.
So he only nodded.
"Keep it secret," he ordered. "From everyone."
That night, he went personally to inform his mother — the Empress Dowager.
Her eyes flickered.
She smiled.
But it did not reach them.
Evidence against the Second Prince was finalized within weeks.
Witness testimonies. Bribery records. The poisoned tea container hidden beneath a loose floorboard in his estate.
The decree was swift.
Execution by immediate beheading.
The Second Prince. His Mother. His wife. His sons. Every adult aligned with him.
The palace washed itself clean in blood.
Four months later— It was time.
The coronation day arrived.
Red silk banners cascaded from golden pillars. Drums thundered across the capital.
The former Crown Prince ascended as Emperor.
His legal wife would ascend as Empress.
Minhwa remained in her courtyard.
Seven months pregnant.
Smiling softly to herself. She pressed a hand to her stomach.
"Our child will be born into peace," she whispered.
Outside— Five shadows scaled the courtyard walls.
Black garments. Silent steps. Blades that did not catch the light.
The secret guard noticed too late.
Two were killed swiftly.
Three slipped past.
Minhwa heard the first scream.
Then the clash of steel.
Her training returned like instinct.
She grabbed the decorative sword the prince once used to teach her.
Even pregnant, she moved.
Clumsy—but not helpless.
She deflected one strike. Dodged another.
But five against one— And she was heavy with life.
A blade pierced forward.
Pain bloomed.
Memories flashed before her.
Memories of her and the prince—of everything they had shared.
She fell to her knees. The world tilted.
Warmth spread across her robes.
Her hands instinctively moved to her stomach.
"No…" she breathed.
She looked up at the masked leader.
"Why…?"
The man hesitated only briefly. "By order of the Empress Dowager."
Her heart shattered before her body did.
The prince's mother.
At that very moment— Drums roared in the ceremonial hall.
"Kneel before His Majesty!"
The crown was placed upon his head. The Empress was crowned beside him.
The kingdom cheered.
In the quiet of his private courtyard— Minhwa lay in her own blood.
Her hand still resting protectively over her child.
Her breathing slowed.
"Mo Tian", she called. Isn't it ironic, she thought to herself. The first and only time she says the name of the prince is the day she is dying, and he is not even there to hear it.
The sounds of celebration echoed faintly in the distance.
Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered to the life that would never be born.
Her vision blurred.
And then— Silence.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Back to the present.
In the Carriage, The little girl snapped her eyes open, her face looked troubled, just for a second. Then she suddenly masked it.
But something deep and dark flickered in her eyes. It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared.
Across from her, the queen noticed nothing.
She only saw a quiet child sitting obediently, hands folded neatly in her lap.
She did not see the storm that had just awakened. She did not hear the silent vow forming behind those calm eyes.
Outside, the wheels continued to turn.
Without the queen's knowledge— doom had just begun.
.
.
.
.
.
The carriage finally came to a halt before Hanshen Ge.
As soon as it stopped, the queen stepped down gracefully. The maids quickly moved to help little Minhwa descend.
Once Minhwa's feet touched the ground, the queen took her small hand into hers again.
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed from within Hanshen Ge as dozens of workers rushed out with a woman in pink hanfu taking the lead.
They immediately bowed in unison before the queen.
"Rise," the queen commanded calmly.
They all straightened at once, each of their forms perfect, no mistakes were seen.
Without hesitation, the queen guided little Minhwa forward and placed her directly into the care of the woman in pink standing at the very front of the staff.
The woman was none other than Madam.
"Take special care of her," the queen instructed. It was her only order.
"I understand, Your Majesty," Madam replied with a respectful bow.
The queen did not linger. She turned and returned to her carriage.
Madam and the rest of the staff bowed deeply as the carriage rolled away.
Only after it had disappeared from view did they all straighten. She glanced at the workers behind her.
"Return to your duties," she said evenly.
They dispersed at once, obeying without question.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
The moment the staff dispersed, without hesitation. Madam took Minhwa by the hand and led her deeper into Hanshen Ge.
The lively front courtyard slowly gave way to quieter corridors, where fewer footsteps echoed.
They stopped before a run-down room tucked at the far end of the compound. The paint had faded, and the wooden frame showed signs of age. Madam pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Inside, on a thin mat sat a little girl, no older than six, her hair tied into two small ponytails. She looked up immediately.
"This," Madam said evenly, "will be your room." She then pointed toward the girl on the mat.
"And that will be your roommate."
Her gaze lowered briefly to Minhwa.
"Make sure you get along well."
Without waiting for a response, Madam turned and left.
The door closed softly behind her, leaving the two girls alone. For a moment, neither spoke.
Then, as soon as Madam's footsteps faded, the girl on the mat sprang to her feet and hurried toward Minhwa.
"Hi! My name is Jianhe. What's your name?" she asked brightly, her tone sweet and eager.
At the sound of that name, something stirred faintly within Minhwa.
"Jian… He," she repeated quietly.
The name lingered on her tongue.
.
.
.
.
.
Meanwhile, outside the room— As Madam made her way back toward her office, a voice called out from behind her.
"Di Ah."
She stopped.
Slowly, she turned, her expression sharpening.
"Do not call me that, Ji An," she said coldly. "Know your place."
Ji An raised his hands in mild surrender. "Fine, fine. My mistake," he replied.
A brief silence followed before he spoke again.
"So… what does the Queen want with that little girl?"
Madam exhaled softly.
"I don't know," she answered. "I'm sure no one does."
Her gaze drifted toward the quiet wing where the girls had been left.
"Only time will tell."