The Jade Phoenix

Thrown Out

The banquet drew to a close. Lamps burned low, courtiers murmured politely, but the earlier festive atmosphere had dimmed. Ning Hua still smiled as though nothing were amiss, her laughter echoing in the tense hall.

The Emperor rose, his gaze sweeping over the young women assembled before him. It halted briefly on Ning Hua.

“Daughters of the court,” he said, his voice carrying over the hush, “your conduct tonight reflects not only on yourselves but on the families who raised you. Some have shown grace and discipline. Others…” His eyes flicked to Ning Hua once more, “…have forgotten where they stand.”

Ning Hua lowered her head just enough to appear apologetic, though her lips twitched with a private, unrepentant smile.

“Those who wish to be considered further will remain in the palace for tomorrow’s formal assessment,” the Emperor declared, his voice final. “The rest may return home.”

As he turned to depart, Crown Prince Zhuge Yan stepped closer, speaking low enough for only the Emperor to hear.

“Father,” he murmured, “I would like to include Lord Hua’s daughter in tomorrow’s selection.”

The Emperor paused, turning slightly, his expression darkening. “That unruly girl? She made a mockery of the court and shamed her family’s name.”

Zhuge Yan’s mouth quirked with a subtle smile. “All the more reason to keep her close. I find her intriguing.”

The Emperor’s sigh was heavy with disapproval. “Very well. But bear in mind that the palace has little tolerance for women who defy decorum and tradition.”

At first, Ning was only pretending to be drunk, a clever little act to cement her unsuitability. A few exaggerated sways, a flushed face, a slurred word here and there. But somewhere between the second cup and the fifth, the line blurred. She hadn’t meant to actually drink that much.

By the time the moon reached its peak, she had passed out in a quiet courtyard not far from the Queen’s private quarters, slumped gracelessly against a stone bench, her hair mussed and one shoe missing.

A few court ladies spotted her there, their eyes widening in shock before narrowing in judgment. Whispers spread like ripples in water.

“So this is Lord Hua’s daughter?”

“How disgraceful. What kind of noblewoman loses herself like that, here of all places?”

No one dared disturb her, but none offered help either. They simply turned away, shaking their heads in silence.

Somehow, word of Ning’s scandalous collapse reached the Crown Prince before the whispers had even died down.

Zhuge Yan said nothing at first, just sipped from his teacup, eyes half-lidded in thought. Then, with a wave of his hand, he gave an unexpected order: not one, but three trusted court ladies were to find Lord Hua’s daughter and escort her gently, into one of the reserved chambers meant for eligible candidates still under consideration.

“She’s still part of the selection,” he said calmly, silencing the surprised murmur that followed. “Treat her with the same respect as the others.”

Some believed he was acting out of princely courtesy. Others suspected deeper motives. But Zhuge Yan himself held no illusions.

He had seen something behind the girl’s defiance, behind the awkward bows and plain robes, a fire she tried too hard to smother. Perhaps this gesture of kindness would reach her where reprimands could not and she would understand that not everyone in the palace was an enemy. Or she would fight even harder to be cast aside. Either way, he found he didn’t mind. She intrigued him.

Sunlight spilled into Ning Hua’s chamber warm and golden. It filtered through the silk curtains like judgment, prodding at her temples with every ray.

She stirred with a groan, head pounding and mouth dry, the unmistakable weight of a poor decision anchoring her to the silken mattress. Blinking against the light, Ning Hua squinted and groaned. For a brief, blissful second, she forgot where she was.

“Baozi, please get me some water, my throat is dry and myl head feels like it might split,” she mumbled, in a voice rough with sleep. Her hand went to her forehead as she kept her eyes closed, trying to will the room to stop spinning.

Without a word, someone pressed a warm porcelain cup into her hand. She took it gratefully and drank, half the cup gone before her senses caught up to her. Something was off.

The scent in the air was different and less familiar, more floral. The sheets beneath her weren’t her own. And Baozi never moved this quietly. Her eyes flew open.

Three unfamiliar young women stood before her, elegant, quiet, and perfectly composed in their pale court livery.

Ning’s grip on the cup tightened. “Who are you people?” she demanded, voice suddenly sharp. “Where am I? Where is my maid?”

The questions tumbled out in a breathless rush as she struggled to push herself upright, body stiff, instincts kicking in. Her gaze darted from one stranger to the next as she shifted into a half-defensive posture, fingers curling tightly around the water cup as if it could be used as a weapon.

The eldest of the three bowed with calm deference. “Lady Hua, you are in the west chamber of the Spring Court Residence. His Highness assigned us to your service after last night.”

“Last night?” Ning echoed, brow furrowing. Then it hit her, faint memories of wine, soft laughter, a quiet courtyard and her utter loss of dignity.

She groaned. “Please tell me I didn’t pass out somewhere dramatic.”

The youngest court lady gave a delicate cough. “Close to the Queen’s courtyard, my lady.”

Ning let out a long breath and sat up slowly, wincing as the pounding in her head throbbed anew.

“Of course I did,” she muttered to herself, shoulders slumping. Just her luck, of all the places to embarrass herself, it had to be right outside the Queen’s quarters.

Then she froze, wait, she’d so much to ensure her disqualification last night, so why was she still here?

Shouldn’t she have been sent home by now? Escorted out in disgrace? Fed to the gossip mill like the scandalous cautionary tale she clearly was?

Her eyes narrowed with sudden clarity.

“I thank you for all the care,” she began, voice adopting the cool precision of a lady in full control. “But there’s no need for further fuss. I’ll take care of my morning routine and see myself out. You can all go back to whatever duties you were meant to be doing and kindly forget I was ever here.”

She waved a hand lightly, as though dismissing them, the three court ladies exchanged uncertain glances. One of them, a refined woman with faint lines at the corner of her eyes and the composed air of someone used to managing chaos, cleared her throat delicately.

“Lady Hua,” she said carefully, “you were one of the few selected last night. The Crown Prince himself has assigned us to tend to your needs.”

Ning blinked, then stared.

“Selected?” she echoed blankly. “As in… still in the running?”

The court lady inclined her head. “Yes, my lady.”

Ning let out a disbelieving short laugh, humorless, and edged with incredulity.

“Why?” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “I mean, I was anything but refined, why would I still be among the selected after everything I did?" Her fingers curled around the edge of the blanket as her brows drew together.

“He has an entire hall of elegant ladies to choose from, why does he still want me here?”

Her gaze darted to the court ladies, who wisely said nothing. Even so, she could sense their discomfort, the way they avoided her eyes, as though afraid she might say something outrageous.

Ning rubbed her temples with a weary sigh as the court ladies moved wordlessly around her, unfazed by her protests.

One knelt beside her with a basin of warm water, the steam rising in delicate curls, scenting the air with faint hints of lotus and mint. Another unfurled a soft towel and arranged a comb and a pale-blue robe embroidered with cranes mid-flight.

The third, calm and efficient, was already unfolding a silken sash, her expression unreadable, eyes politely averted yet quietly observant.

The atmosphere felt too gentle, too reverent, as though she hadn’t made a spectacle of herself just the night before.

Ning allowed them to work, her limbs pliant but her mind sharp and calculating beneath the calm surface. As warm water touched her skin and a comb ran gently through her tangled hair, her gaze lifted to the polished bronze mirror before her. Her reflection stared back, disheveled, slightly pale, but with something fierce flickering in her eyes.

I failed last night because I didn’t go all out, she thought grimly, lips tightening. Today, I’ll just have to work harder. They’ll be begging me to leave.

Determination bloomed, quiet but resolute. Let them dress her like a flower, let them prepare her for display—she had no intention of playing by anyone’s rules.

****

Meanwhile: In the Shadows

Across the palace, Mo Yan was still lodged in the same dim chamber he had been escorted to the previous night. A tray of untouched food sat in the corner; no one had told him when the Emperor would see him.

He sat with the same stillness as before, though a dull ache lingered behind his eyes. Not once had he felt resentment toward them, not even after all the years of cold shoulders and silent exile. In Mo Yan’s eyes, he deserved every bit of it. There was no room for bitterness in a heart already forged in discipline. Complaints were for the weak, his uncle had made that clear long ago.

Don’t sulk because the world isn’t kind, he’d said once. Make yourself so sharp that the world thinks twice before touching you.

The palace’s inner courtyard gleamed beneath the morning sun, every stone polished to perfection. Rows of noble daughters stood in practiced silence, each one poised like a porcelain doll, backs straight, eyes lowered, hands folded just so. Grace and refinement clung to them like the silk of their gowns.

Today, they would present themselves before the Empress, whose discerning gaze would determine who among them was worthy of becoming a royal consort.

Everything was flawless except for one girl.

Ning Hua leaned lazily against a marble pillar, her arms crossed, a yawn escaping her lips loud enough to turn heads. She didn’t even try to stifle it.

The ripple of disapproval that passed through the courtyard didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.

“Lady Ning Hua,” a stern attendant barked. “Stand straight. You are in the presence of Her Majesty.”

Ning straightened and bowed slightly before joining the group.

When asked to demonstrate court etiquette, she exaggerated her bow so far she nearly toppled forward. “Oh no,” she gasped theatrically, grabbing the arm of the girl next to her. “I’m terribly clumsy, forgive me!”

Whispers swirled: “She’s doing it again.” “Shameless.”

During the poetry recitation, as one of the other girls began to quote a classic verse with elegant restraint, Ning Hua casually raised her hand.

“Your Majesty,” she said, voice light but carrying across the hushed courtyard, “must a wife really know poems by heart? I was thinking, it’s far more useful to know where to find the best tea houses in the city.”

Gasps fluttered like startled birds. A few muffled laughs escaped from the younger ladies who quickly bit their tongues. The rest stood frozen, eyes wide in horror.

The Empress’s fan stilled mid-motion. Her expression shifted only slightly, but the temperature in the courtyard seemed to drop. She mortified that someone so boldly irreverent had made it this far into the selection was an insult in itself. Was the girl here to mock the royal family and humiliate them in their own hall?

If she weren’t currently preoccupied with court matters, the Empress might have ordered the girl flogged then and there, just to make a lesson of her. Instead, she lifted two fingers in a subtle gesture.

Guards stepped forward immediately.

Ning Hua beamed inwardly. Finally. Her grand sabotage was working. But she knew better than to let her satisfaction show. She gasped instead, her voice rising in a perfect imitation of desperation as she was seized by both arms.

“I’ll be good!” she cried, eyes wide with fake innocence.

The Empress didn’t even blink. “Out.”

As she was dragged toward the gate like an unruly servant girl, Ning let her limbs flop theatrically, as though she were being executed instead of escorted out.

And that was precisely when Crown Prince Zhuge Yan entered the court.

He arrived just moments too late to witness the grand spectacle of Ning Hua being hauled out like a common criminal, cheeks flushed, hair slightly tousled. All that remained was the awkward silence hanging in the air and a few girls still reeling from secondhand embarrassment.

A court attendant quickly stepped forward to greet him, bowing low.

“Your Highness,” the man said, voice hushed, “you’ve just missed quite the scene.”

Zhuge Yan’s eyes swept over the uneasy assembly, taking in the forced composure, the stifled whispers, the tight smiles of young noblewomen trying to pretend nothing had happened.

He tilted his head, mildly curious. “What happened?”

“A candidate caused a disruption,” the attendant explained delicately. “She questioned the importance of poetry and... suggested tea houses instead.”

The Crown Prince’s lips twitched. “Did she?”

“Yes, Your Highness, her Majesty was not amused. She has been removed from the selection.”

Zhuge Yan nodded once, eyes narrowing just slightly. Removed? That wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind. He had rushed over specifically to keep her from getting disqualified but since the empress had thrown her out, there was nothing he could do anymore.

Without another word, he continued forward, a soft sigh escaping him.