When Favor Shifts—and Shadows Move
932 Words
“I will accept your guidance, Your Majesty.”
The Ninth Princess lowered her head, her voice calm and steady.
The Empress Dowager studied her for a long moment before speaking.
“Copy the women’s conduct rules,” she said coolly.
“Ten times.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Only then was the Ninth Princess allowed to take her seat.
The banquet resumed.
Silk rustled. Music flowed softly. One by one, nobles stepped forward to greet the Empress Dowager, offering gifts wrapped in gold and formality.
Then came the Second Princess.
She smiled sweetly and presented a pendant made of a luminous pearl, glowing gently beneath the lantern light.
Gasps spread across the hall.
“So rare.”
“So expensive.”
“So fitting for Her Majesty.”
The Empress Dowager’s expression softened.
“I like your gift very much,” she said.
Praise followed immediately.
The Second Princess lowered her head modestly, though triumph burned in her eyes.
Consort Lu stepped forward next.
Her hands trembled slightly as she bowed. From her sleeves, she took out the golden brow ornament she carried.
“This is my humble offering, Your Majesty.”
The Empress Dowager examined it carefully.
The design was unfamiliar—refined, balanced, elegant in a way she had not seen before.
She accepted it with a faint smile.
Then, finally, the Ninth Princess stepped forward.
She bowed deeply.
“For Your Majesty’s birthday,” she said gently,
“I wrote a poem.”
Her voice was clear as she recited ancient verses—words of time, grace, and women who carried strength quietly through history.
The hall fell silent.
Then she added, “I also prepared something new.”
At her signal, the maids brought forward the cake.
The Empress Dowager tasted it.
Paused.
Then smiled.
“This is… very good.”
Simple words.
But powerful.
From his seat, the Emperor watched closely—not only the Ninth Princess, but also Consort Lu, radiant in her gown.
When did I stop noticing them? he wondered.
Whispers filled the hall.
“They look beautiful tonight.”
“The Ninth Princess especially…”
Jealousy twisted sharply in the Second Princess’s chest.
She should be humiliated here, she thought.
Quietly, she gestured to a maid.
A drink was prepared.
The Ninth Princess returned to her seat.
Her heartbeat was steady—but her mind was sharp.
This is it.
She remembered the story.
The d**g.
The humiliation.
The punishment.
The maid approached with the drink.
The Ninth Princess accepted it—and deliberately spilled it over her gown.
Gasps echoed.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, bowing. “I was careless.”
Everyone assumed she had drunk it.
She had not.
Across the hall, the Second Princess stiffened.
Why isn’t anything happening?
The banquet continued.
Anger burned.
The Second Princess stormed out, scolding her maid in fury.
Later that evening, the Empress Dowager spoke quietly with the Emperor.
“She surprised me,” the Empress Dowager admitted.
“I thought she lacked refinement—but she carried herself well.”
“She earned money herself,” the Emperor replied.
“And she designed my gift.”
He showed her the bronze ornament.
The Empress Dowager smiled slowly.
“So even this… was her creation.”
Something shifted.
Not favor.
But reconsideration.
When the Second Princess tried once more to provoke her, the Empress Dowager waved her off.
“I saw nothing improper tonight,” she said.
“You should rest.”
Dismissed.
That night, the Ninth Princess returned to her room.
She locked the door.
Her loyal maid—the same one who had silently helped her hide things before—waited nervously.
“You didn’t speak,” the Ninth Princess said softly.
“But you watched.”
The maid bowed deeply.
“I will follow Your Highness,” she whispered.
A bond—quiet, but real—was formed.
The Ninth Princess nodded.
“From now on,” she said, “what you see here stays here.”
She touched the stone.
Back in her own world, she searched urgently.
Antidotes.
Drug symptoms.
Preventive measures.
She ordered what she could.
That evening, her father knocked on her door.
“I noticed your stock investments,” he said gently.
“The amounts are significant.”
She met his eyes calmly.
“I invested my pocket money. I wanted to learn.”
He studied the charts.
Then smiled.
“You chose wisely.”
Pride warmed his voice.
“If you ever want to build something,” he added,
“Do it properly. I’ll support you.”
She hugged him tightly.
At least here… I am someone’s daughter.
Later, the medicines arrived.
She packed them carefully.
Returned.
Back in the ancient palace, she hid them beneath her bed.
Lying down on the pillow she had brought from home, she stared into the darkness.
Recipe money won’t last forever.
Ingredients here are expensive.
Then another thought surfaced.
What if I grow my own?
Seeds.
Wheat.
Fruits.
Herbs.
Control the source.
She returned—buying seeds, farming tools, simple manuals.
She hid everything carefully.
Under the bed.
Behind old screens.
Inside unused trunks.
Tomorrow, she would begin.
As sleep slowly claimed her, she thought:
I’m done reacting.
Now, I prepare.
Far away, the Second Princess clenched her fists, her rage simmering.
“She’s changing,” she whispered.
“And that makes her dangerous.”
And somewhere above it all, the Emperor began to watch his Ninth Daughter more closely—
not as a tool.
But as a variable, he could no longer ignore
- Writer
