MTLNOVEL Chapter 180: The First Move of the Empress
The letter arrived at dawn.
It was not sealed with the Emperor's dragon emblem, nor marked with the stiff calligraphy of court correspondence. The handwriting was fluid, confident, and elegant without flourish.
Zhu Mingyu's handwriting.
The Empress broke the seal with a small blade carved from bone, her fingers steady even as the scent of crushed sandalwood rose faintly from the parchment.
She read it once.
Then again.
Then a third time before folding it neatly into the sleeve of her robe.
She said nothing for a long while.
Outside her private chambers, the early morning chill had not yet lifted, and the palace servants moved like shadows in the gray light. A few lingered too long near her door, pretending to sweep leaves or polish a lantern. She made a small note of each one.
"You," she said softly, not raising her voice.
A girl stilled mid-step.
The Empress didn't look up. "Send word to the outer kitchens. I want fresh tea brewed in my grandmother's set."
The girl hesitated. "That tea set hasn't been used in—"
"Then tell them to polish it."
The girl bowed low and fled.
The Empress rose slowly and moved to the long window overlooking the southern garden. The plum trees had lost their blossoms, but the stone lanterns remained dustless. She had raised this section of the palace from weeds and rot. She had done it once.
She would do it again.
-----
Later that morning, two eunuchs were dragged screaming from the imperial laundry.
One had worked there for more than fifteen years. The other had come just six months ago. Both had been feeding information to an unknown master—possibly the North, possibly the Emperor's lesser wives, but it didn't matter.
What mattered was that while she hadn't cared before, she definitely cared now.
If her son was making his move, then the Empress didn't need confessions.
She needed loyalty.
She burned their names from the palace registry and sent new robes to be measured in silence.
A third servant, a wet nurse from the southern wing, vanished between breakfast and mid-morning. No one mentioned her again.
By the time the bells tolled midday, the inner palace had gone still. Not quiet. Not peaceful. Simply still.
Like a pond with no life left in it, or a forest that had a larger predator just come through it.
-----
"Find her," the Empress whispered to her most trusted handmaid, Jiayi. "There was a girl… seventeen years ago. In the Plum Hall annex. She gave birth and was dismissed."
Jiayi paled. "But Your Majesty—she was a—"
"She was a servant," the Empress finished. "And the Emperor's lust made her a mother."
She turned her eyes toward the sunlight beyond the paper screen. "That child grew into a general. And his loyalty is worth more than the Emperor's entire court."
Jiayi nodded.
"Find her," the Empress repeated. "I will not have another war break out without knowing the bloodlines involved."
------
By early afternoon, the tea had been prepared in a tea set that had rarely seen the light of day.
White porcelain, rimmed with ink-black lotus blossoms. It was stunning to look at if you didn't know its secrets. Those who did would tremble when it was brought out.
"Send a message to Consort Yi," the Empress said calmly. "Tell her I wish to speak. No rush. But I will be waiting."
She didn't say what they would talk about.
She didn't have to.
By the time the message reached Consort Yi's chambers, half the palace had already begun to whisper.
The Empress hadn't made any significant moves since the birth of the Third Prince. Most people in the palace had considered her to be nothing more than a paper tiger… mighty in appearance but of no real threat.
But the purge she had instigated this morning was enough to remind people that while the Emperor didn't visit her all that often, she was not without her ways.
In response, old alliances quietly severed as people scrambled to survive her wrath.
A favored male attendant of the Emperor was reassigned to the Eastern wing, where there was never any servant, and not enough coal to keep the cold away. One of the Emperor's younger concubines—barely fifteen, full of giggles and ambition—was escorted back to her family under the pretense of illness.
A new head matron was appointed in the women's quarters. She didn't smile, she didn't accept bribes, and she was not above enforcing all of the Palace regulations, no matter how antiquated they were.
By sunset, three new handmaids were in training—none older than sixteen, all orphans, all marked with the seal of the Empress.
The palace, once bloated with spies and watchers, began to move differently.
Not faster.
Not louder.
But under the Empress's rhythm and command
----
Consort Yi arrived just before the evening lanterns were lit.
She was not late. She was never late. But since the Empress hadn't specified a time, she didn't bother to rush. Her hair was twisted into a crown of pearls, her outer robe such a deep red that it bordered on rebellion.
The Empress was waiting in the garden pavilion, seated beneath a carved cherrywood arch, the teapot already steaming.
Consort Yi paused before approaching. Her gaze drifted to the guards stationed nearby—two unfamiliar faces. Tall. Silent. And definitely not palace-bred.
"Your Majesty," she greeted smoothly, bowing low.
"Consort Mei," the Empress replied, using the name the Emperor preferred for her. She gestured to the empty seat beside her.
"Sit. We have much to discuss."
Consort Mei, the mother of the Third Prince, hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward.
The tea was poured without a word. Both women watched the steam rise in silence, letting the moment stretch.
"I received a letter from my son," the Empress said at last.
Yi's fingers twitched slightly on her cup. "Is he well?"
"No. But he is resolved."
Another pause.
"And when Zhu Mingyu resolves something," the Empress continued, "I suggest everyone else adjust accordingly."
Consort Yi didn't speak.
"I'm not here to threaten you," the Empress added, taking a sip. "I'm here because I believe you're a woman who understands survival." However, even as she said this, the Empress let out a small tendril of black mist that wrapped itself around Consort Yi's wrist.
"And survival," Yi said quietly, "requires alliances."
"Precisely," purred the Empress. But there was no way that these two women would ever be allies; there was too much bad blood and hatred between them.
They both drank the tea, each lost in their own thoughts.
Then, without preamble, the Empress smiled faintly. "Tell me, what do you think of the current Crown Princess?"
Consort Mei raised her eyebrows. "Gone too soon."
The Empress hummed absently as she nodded. "It is such a shame when a child dies before their parent. The only consolation that a parent could take is to follow them quickly after."
The night air turned colder. Neither woman moved.
From the shadows, Jiayi waited with a scroll of names, another list—but this one made not by traitors, but by the Empress herself.
The game had changed.
And now, the queens were the ones moving pieces across the board.