CHAPTER 3

' Rest 'His Majesty said, but I don't dare to after the help he gave me. Inside the chambers I stirred the pot of rice noodle soup with careful hands. The steam rose in soft curls, and for once, her fingers did not tremble. I had spent hours perfecting it—the same dish I once made as a common girl before the palace walls swallowed my life.

"What are you preparing for so long, Your Highness ? Seems quite special ". Xiaoyu asked who has been standing beside me helping. A soft but full of the greatest gratitude smile appeared on my face.

" You know I'm not someone who owes I'm preparing my special - rice noodle soup for His Majesty ". I said excitedly.

" It is my way of showing gratitude, of saying what I could not bring myself to speak aloud: thank you for saving me. " —I whispered under my breath but loud enough to make her heart.

I reached the palace. It was dark but not too late. "I want to meet His Majesty". I said to the guards who were standing still like a statue unbreakable so focused on their duty to protect their king. The enormous door craved with beautiful lights shone brightly through the moonlight.

 His Majesty let me entered, I knelt, eyes lowered.

“I’ve prepared something myself tonight,” I said softly. “I wished… to repay your kindness.”

He regarded me with that familiar quiet intensity, then took a seat. The warmth between us was fragile, tentative—like sunlight peeking through storm clouds.

I poured the soup into his bowl. For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw the hardness in his expression ease.

But when he lifted the spoon to his lips—everything changed.

He froze. His pupils dilated slightly, the spoon clattering back into the bowl. The head eunuch stepped forward in alarm, sniffed the broth—and turned pale.

“Your Majesty! This… this soup is laced with poison!”

The room erupted into chaos.

My heart stopped. “No—! That can’t be—!”

The Emperor’s chair scraped sharply against the floor as he rose. His expression darkened into something I had never seen before—rage, disappointment, and beneath it, something like pain.

“Do you think me a fool?” His voice thundered through the chamber. “After everything I’ve done, you try to kill me?”

Tears welled in my eyes, I didn't want to cry. My voice trembling. “I swear upon my life—I didn’t—!”

“Silence!” he roared. “Your selfishness knows no end. I defended you before the court, against my own blood—and this is how you repay me?”

The guards burst in, their armor clattering. I stumbled forward, hands outstretched, desperate. “Your Majesty, please! I would never harm you! Someone must have—”

“Enough!”

His gaze was cold as winter steel. “From this moment, Concubine Yue is stripped of her title and sent to the Cold Palace. Let her reflect on her sins there.”

My breath hitched. The world tilted around me as two guards seized my arms.

“No… please…” I whispered, my voice breaking. “You don’t understand…”

But he had already turned away, his face hidden in shadow.

As I was dragged through the corridors, the drizzle turned to steady rain, washing the blood and dust from the stone path. I looked back one last time, and through the open doors, saw him standing by the untouched bowl—the steam fading, the warmth gone.

He did not look behind.

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The Cold Palace lay on the farthest edge of the imperial grounds—where the sun rarely reached and time seemed to stand still. Once it had housed favored consorts, its halls filled with laughter and silk; now it was a grave of broken dreams.

When they threw me inside, the heavy doors groaned shut behind me, sealing me away from the living world.

The air was damp and smelled faintly of mildew. The roof leaked when it rained. My silk robes, once brilliant, hung heavy and dull against my skin. The night winds crept through the cracks, biting through layers of thin blankets.

Days blurred into nights, and nights into endless silence. No attendants came. No warmth of light or voice. Her meals were left outside—cold rice, a bowl of thin oatmeal, sometimes forgotten altogether.

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