Deep into the night—
only a single lamp burned inside Yangxin Hall.
The wick was thin.
The flame steady.
Like a man.
Tang Yi stood by the window.
No memorials in hand.
Just watching the darkness outside.
The curtain stirred with the wind.
Then he spoke—
calm, almost indifferent.
"They've made their move?"
A figure stepped out from the shadows behind him.
Cheng Yan.
Commander of the imperial shadow guards.
"Your Majesty."
"Today, in the Empress Dowager's palace, the consorts joined voices… attempting to strip Director Qing of her authority."
Tang Yi gave a soft "Mm."
As if he had expected nothing less.
Cheng Yan hesitated—
then finally asked:
"Your Majesty… since you saw this coming…"
"why not suppress it earlier?"
Tang Yi turned.
The lamplight illuminated half his face.
Calm.
But beneath it—
a trace of quiet exhaustion.
"Because if I intervene…"
"…she will forever remain someone who needs my protection."
He paused.
Then continued:
"But if she can stand on her own—"
"…then she can go much further."
"And only then…"
"…will she truly believe in herself."
That sentence—
was a king's gamble.
Tang Yi returned to his desk.
Unfolding a secret report.
On it—
a map of grain routes.
Red lines crisscrossed like veins.
"You think the empty granaries…"
"…are just the work of the harem?"
His voice was light.
Almost dismissive.
"They don't have that kind of reach."
He looked up at Cheng Yan.
"Shen family."
"Remnants of the Liu faction."
"Old accounts within the Ministry of Internal Affairs…"
He tapped one of the lines.
"And—"
"The border army."
Cheng Yan's pupils shrank.
"Grain," Tang Yi said quietly,
"…is not just the life of those in the palace."
"It is the life of the entire realm."
Cheng Yan lowered his voice.
"But Director Qing… her background is too low."
Tang Yi smiled faintly.
Almost imperceptibly.
"Precisely because she comes from the bottom…"
"…she has no clan behind her."
"No faction to rely on."
"Her identity is the cleanest."
"And because she has lived at the bottom…"
"…she understands them better than we ever could."
"She doesn't want power."
"She just wants people to eat."
"To live without being trampled."
He picked up his brush.
On the back of the report—
he wrote a name:
Gu Xingzhou.
"Go."
"Tell Gu Xingzhou—"
"The evidence Qing Tian needs…"
"…can be given."
"But slowly."
He paused.
Ink still wet.
"Let her believe…"
"…she discovered it herself."
Cheng Yan froze.
So the Emperor intended—
to make her a player in the game.
He couldn't help but ask:
"Your Majesty…"
"What are you still waiting for?"
Tang Yi's brush stopped.
The flame flickered.
"I'm waiting…"
"…for the day she no longer fights only for the powerless."
"…but also for herself."
"…and for power."
"If all she wants is to save people—"
"…one day, she will die for it."
"But if she learns how to play the game…"
"…how to survive in this palace…"
"…then she might live."
Scene Shift · Food Office · Late Night
Qing Tian sat alone beneath the lamp.
Account books spread across the table.
Then—
tap.
A small pebble struck the window.
She looked up.
A voice.
Light.
Fleeting.
Almost swallowed by the wind.
"The grain routes… check the West Storage."
"The temple is a cover."
"The real people… are in the Bureau of Garments."
Silence.
Only the wind remained.
Qing Tian slowly closed the ledger.
Her chest tightened.
She didn't know—
this was the Emperor's first invisible blade—
placed in her hand.
She murmured softly:
"So… I'm not the only one investigating."
Far away—
inside Yangxin Hall—
Tang Yi set down his brush.
As if he had heard her.
In this vast palace—
too many truths lay buried.
Too many lives—
hung on invisible threads.
The powerless needed someone—
someone who could stand against everything—
and speak for them.
And perhaps—
Qing Tian—
was the most suitable person of all.