Across the palace in the Western Gardens, Consort Yu, mother of the Third Prince, hosted a tea gathering — using it, of course, to showcase her son's knowledge of governance.
"Your Highness, what would you do if the northern provinces suffer drought again?" asked one official's daughter.
"Reroute grain from the central storage. Cut tax for three months. Send envoys with supplies and use the opportunity to inspect corrupt officials."
Laughter and approval followed.
Consort Yu smiled behind her teacup. Her son, Li Zixin, was not a warrior, but he was cunning — soft words, deep strategies.
And unlike the Second Prince, he didn't need recognition from the Emperor to move pieces behind the scenes.
"Let Li Xiao sheng perform his sword dances," she told her son in private. "We'll build our path with silence and loyalty."
And yet, every time the Emperor visited either prince, his eyes seemed to wander elsewhere, as if looking for someone who wasn't there.
...
At the Cold Palace
Meanwhile, in the quietest part of the palace, tucked between the eastern wall and the servant quarters, stood the old Cold Palace.
Once built to house fallen consorts, now it was home to one prince — the one no one spoke of anymore.
Wei Li, the Fourth Prince.
The guards didn't speak to him. The servants dropped food without a word. No lanterns were lit at night.
But inside, he had trained.
He had read every scroll of war strategy, every classic, every forbidden book the guards smuggled in for a price.
His hands, once soft, now bore the calluses of blade practice.
His voice was deeper, rarely used — but sharp as ever.
His heart? Guarded, cold, and vengeful.
He still remembered his mother's death.
The whispers that blamed him.
The father who locked him away like a shameful secret.
"One day," he whispered to the silent moon beyond the cracked window.
"I will walk out of here, not as a son... but as the storm this empire deserves."
Back in the main court, the Emperor sat silently during the council meeting, eyes glazing as ministers droned on about taxes and rice reserves.
"What of the succession?" Minister Gao dared to ask.
"Your Majesty, the people are growing restless. They await your choice."
"My choice," the Emperor muttered, fingers drumming the armrest. "Yes… they all await a crown."
"Second Prince—"
"Lacks instinct."
"Third Prince—"
"Too careful. Too eager to please."
"Then… forgive me, Your Majesty, but… the Fourth—"
The Emperor's eyes flickered.
"The Fourth… is a sword in a scabbard left out in the rain. Dangerous. But even a rusted blade can kill."
He stood.
"I want to see who among them can seize the throne. But I'll choose the one… who fears it the least."
...
The city's nights were darker near the walls of the Cold Palace. No lanterns burned. No guards truly guarded. It was a place meant for forgetting.
But Wei Li, the Fourth Prince, remembered everything.
He had spent thirteen years in this cage of memory, surviving on silence and sharpening his will like a dagger hidden in a sleeve.
Tonight, he could no longer breathe within these walls. He had to see what had become of the empire that forgot him.
With his hair tied loosely, a dark cloak over his shoulders, and a narrow blade hidden beneath his robe, he slipped out through a loose panel in the outer wall — a crack he had discovered years ago.
"They think I'm broken."
"Let them think."He scoffs.
The capital had changed. The streets were noisier, the faces younger. Vendors shouted, drunken men played dice near tea stalls, and children chased each other with sticks. Wei Li walked unnoticed among them.
But as he passed a narrow alley, the hair on his neck rose.
He was being followed.
He turned a corner casually, slipping into shadow. The moment his pursuer moved, he struck — hand grabbing the man by the collar, slamming him against a stone wall.
"Why are you following me?" Wei Li growled, pressing his blade to the man's throat.
"Just… orders!" the man gasped. "We were told… the Cold Palace was hiding something valuable…"
Wei Li 's eyes narrowed. Before he could demand more—
A whistle cut through the air.