MTLNOVEL Chapter 118: Circling Her Prey
The corridors outside the Imperial Consort's residence smelled faintly of peonies and old incense—sweet, cloying, and just a little bit spoiled. It was the kind of scent that clung to polished floors and lingering ambition. Wei Lanyue, the Empress, walked through it in silence, her footsteps soft on the stone, her train whispering behind her like a ripple on still water.
There were no servants trailing behind her, no dedicated eunuchs to help guide her like they did the rest of the women from the harem. But that was fine. She didn't need it.
She did not walk quickly. Queens didn't need to. Every step was measured, deliberate. There was no rush. After all, when you ruled from the shadows, time was the one thing always on your side.
Each servant she passed dipped low, but none bowed deeply. Their greetings were mumbled, and their eyes never quite met hers. That too was telling. In a palace like this, respect was currency. And hers had been quietly devalued over the years—traded away behind closed doors in favor of prettier smiles and newer blood.
That had suited her. Until now.
When she reached the carved door of Consort Yi's private sitting room, the guards outside dipped their heads. Hesitantly. Too slowly.
Wei Lanyue didn't acknowledge them. She didn't need to.
A servant scrambled to open the door. "Your Majesty, Lady Yi is—"
"—receiving me," she said without pause, stepping inside before the girl could even finish.
The room was warm with rosewood and filtered afternoon light. A scroll lay half-read on the low table. Osmanthus tea steamed gently beside it. The cushions were still plump. No one else had sat here today.
And Imperial Consort Yi—ever elegant, ever composed—sat beneath a hanging lantern, robes of pale jade and cream cascading around her like the folds of a perfectly practiced lie.
She didn't rise.
That was the first insult.
Wei Lanyue closed the door behind her and took a seat across from her, hands folded in her lap with the grace of a woman who had survived two decades in a cage lined with silk.
"A surprise, Your Majesty," Consort Yi said smoothly, eyes flicking to her cup. "I wasn't expecting—"
"No," Lanyue interrupted with a gentle shake of her head. "You weren't. And that's half your problem."
A flicker passed across Consort Yi's expression—quick, like a crack behind frosted glass.
"You've made a mistake," continued Wei Lanyue, inspecting the tea on the table. Her voice wasn't raised, but the room shifted around it. It always did when she stopped smiling. "You thought silence meant surrender. That I had grown old, soft, irrelevant."
"Your Majesty, I meant no disrespect," Consort Yi said evenly, but her hands were too still on her lap. Her tea remained untouched. That was the second insult—pretending to host without any intention of hospitality.
"You threatened Zhao Xinying." It wasn't a question so much as a statement.
"I warned her," corrected Consort Yi.
"Warned her?" The Empress let out a quiet, unamused breath. "You summoned a storm into your own courtyard and acted surprised when it drowned your garden."
"She is a threat."
"She is a woman," replied Wei Lanyue, leaning back slightly. "Alone. Without title. Without family. And yet you—who have all those things—are the one who flinched."
Consort Yi's jaw tightened.
"She will never be Empress," she said coldly. "You know this. The Dowager knows this. Even the Crown Prince knows this."
"Perhaps," the Empress said, tilting her head. "But in the end, it is not about titles. It is not even about favor. It is about who is left standing."
A silence stretched between them like wire drawn taut.
The Empress looked around the room—the rich fabrics, the scrolls, the carved screens depicting mountains and dragons. All of it curated. All of it borrowed.
"You've mistaken the luxury of your surroundings for the permanence of your position," she said softly. "That's the difference between us. You were granted your place. I fought for mine."
"I have the Emperor's favor."
"You have the Emperor's boredom," the Empress countered. "And now, with his court in disarray and your brother's corpse not even cold, you reach for control with blood still on your hands."
Consort Yi's eyes flared, but her voice remained level. "The court will never accept a nobody like Zhao Xinying."
"And yet they already fear her more than they respect you."
That landed. The Empress saw it in the flicker of her rival's lashes. A shadow of doubt. A sliver of panic.
"She is not the enemy," the Empress said. "She is the mirror. And you, Yuan Yuelian, should be very afraid of what you see in her reflection."
"Are you siding with her?" Consort Yi demanded, incredulous that Wei Lanyue dared to utter her birth name.
"I'm not siding with anyone," the Empress replied, a soft smile on her face. "But I know the difference between a wildfire and a candle. One you can snuff out. The other… the other burns down everything you've built."
She leaned forward now, hands resting on her knees, voice like a blade slipping free of its sheath.
"Do not mistake my years of quiet for weakness. I let you rise, Yuan Yuelian. I let you speak. I let you play your little games because it suited the Emperor to have a favored consort and a patient wife. But I am not here today because of my patience. I am here because it is time you remembered who wears the crown."
Consort Yi shifted. Not much. But enough.
"You've used me as a shield," the Empress continued. "The Emperor visits, pretends warmth, and in doing so, avoids facing the fire you would bring to his feet if I were removed. But let me be clear—if I am deposed, then you are exposed. And the ones who would come for you do not knock first."
"I have the Dowager's favor," Consort Yi repeated, but this time her voice lacked its usual certainty.
"And that will protect you for what? A season? A scandal? A single poisoned cup?" The Empress rose, her shadow stretching long across the floor. "I have worn this crown for twenty-five years. I have endured the cold palace, the shallow bows, the whispering servants, the hollow praise. I have survived by standing still while others rushed to their own ruin."
She smoothed her sleeves with precise fingers. "But now? Now I'm tired of standing still."
She turned toward the door, but her words still hung in the air like the scent of rotting peonies.
"You've mistaken me for something breakable. But I am not here to break. I am here to bury you."
Consort Yi didn't respond. Couldn't.
The Empress gave her a final glance—a look not of warning, but of certainty.
"Tell your son to stay in his place. Tell your allies to watch the wind. And you, Yuan Yuelian…" She paused with her hand on the door. "You would do well to remember—lions do not roar when they hunt. They wait. And they strike."
Then she left.
The corridor was quiet. The same scent of peonies clung to the air, but it no longer smelled like ambition.
Now it smelled like something already dead.
And the lioness had just begun to circle her prey.