The Whisper of Allies
Days after the first test, Lianhua began to move with purpose through the palace. Every corner, every hallway, every quiet courtyard became a classroom. She observed the older maids, noting who whispered to whom, who carried messages for the Queen Mother, and which eunuchs were pliant and which were loyal only to power.
One evening, as she folded silks in the dim light of the northern wing, a voice called her name softly.
"Shen Lianhua."
She turned to see a girl of similar age, her robes simple but clean, a faint nervousness in her eyes.
"I've watched you," the girl said, lowering her voice further. "You survive because you see. You listen. You move carefully. You are clever. But cleverness alone will not save you."
Lianhua inclined her head slightly. "And what will?"
The girl glanced around, then leaned closer. "Alliances. Secrets shared in whispers. The right friend at the right moment. I can help you… if you are willing to trust carefully."
Lianhua considered the offer. Trust was dangerous, but carefully chosen allies could be weapons in disguise.
"I will listen," she said finally, "but nothing spoken is safe outside this room."
The girl nodded. "Good. I am Mei Lin. I have eyes and ears everywhere. And I suspect, like you, that the Queen Mother watches too closely. Together, we may survive."
For the first time since entering the palace, Lianhua felt the faintest spark of hope. Not for comfort, not for love, not for safety—those did not exist here—but for leverage.
As Mei Lin slipped away into the shadows, Lianhua whispered a vow:
I will use every ally, every secret, every thread of information.
I will endure the Queen Mother's games.
And one day, the Vermilion Throne will recognize my name—not as a servant, but as a force to be reckoned with.
The palace was full of whispers.
And now, Shen Lianhua had learned to speak in her own.