Episode 1: The Gilded Cage

(Imperial Capital, Yanjing - Late Autumn, 1522)

The crimson bridal palanquin jolted to a halt. Outside, the raucous cheers celebrating the Grand Minister of Justice’s scandalous marriage grated against Lin Zhiruo’s nerves. Inside, the heavy Phoenix crown pressed down like the weight of her mission. Her fingers traced the cold jade vial sewn into her inner robe. "Poison. Swift. Merciful."

Memories flashed: her father’s head striking the block, her mother’s silent scream, the ancestral manor burning. All orchestrated by the man she would marry—Xie Zhan.

"Remember," hissed the voice honed by three years in the Nightingale Bureau. "Xie Zhan’s death is your freedom." Crown Prince Li Chen, her savior and handler, had placed his deadliest weapon in the viper’s nest.

The curtain drew back. A stern guard in black-and-silver livery eyed her. "Honored Madam. The Minister awaits."

Zhiruo stepped into the suffocating grandeur of Xie Zhan’s mansion—a fortress of raked gravel paths and silent pines. Guards stood like statues. She was led not to a celebration, but to an austere study smelling of ink and winter frost.

At a zitan wood desk sat Xie Zhan.

He didn’t look up. Robes of indigo embroidered with silver thread caught the lamplight like shards of ice. His profile was sculpted perfection—high cheekbones, a hard line for a mouth. When his eyes lifted, they were obsidian voids. Dark. Fathomless. Cold.

"Lin Zhiruo," his voice resonated, devoid of inflection. "You understand this arrangement?"

Zhiruo straightened, meeting his gaze through the veil. "This humble one understands. A marriage to quell rumors... after my family’s fall." She injected trembling shame.

A flicker of disdain crossed his face. "Reputation is a tool. Your role: silent, obedient, unseen. Reside in the West Courtyard. Disobedience," his gaze sharpened, pinning her, "will bring consequences you cannot imagine."

He dismissed her with a gesture to an elderly maid. "Auntie Liu will show you to your quarters. The formalities are concluded."

No ceremony. No shared wine. Just a transaction. Zhiruo bowed, fingers brushing the vial. "Tonight, it ends."

Auntie Liu led her through labyrinthine corridors to the secluded West Courtyard. Her chambers were spacious but cold—a gilded cage.

As midnight deepened, Zhiruo shed her bridal robes. Clad in dark silk, she slipped the vial into a hidden pocket. She moved like a wraith, avoiding predictable patrols, scaling walls to Xie Zhan’s private chambers. Two elite Iron Web guards stood below. Above, a skylight—a vulnerability.

Peering down, she saw him.

He sat alone by a low table, a cup of untouched wine beside him. Bathed in lantern glow, his harsh features seemed softer, yet radiated profound isolation. For a treacherous moment, Zhiruo felt a pang—not pity, but recognition of solitude.

"No. He’s the monster." Her fingers uncorked the vial. "Now."

As she leaned forward, a floorboard creaked faintly beneath her knee.

Xie Zhan froze. His head snapped up. Obsidian eyes locked directly on her shadow. Not startled—predatory. A slow, terrifying smile touched his lips.

"Come down," his voice floated up, deadly calm. "Or shall I have the guards shoot you down like a troublesome owl?"

Zhiruo’s blood iced. "He knew." Instinct took over.

Her free hand scrabbled, finding a loose roof tile. With desperate precision, she hurled it sideways. It arced over the courtyard, shattering loudly on a distant pavilion’s flagstones.

Shouts erupted. "Intruder! East Pavilion roof!" Guards sprinted toward the noise.

Xie Zhan’s gaze flicked toward the distraction—a fraction of a second.

"Enough."

Heart hammering, Zhiruo tipped the vial. A single drop of "Silent Snow"—tasteless, odorless, lethal—fell with a tiny "plink" into the wine jug beside his cup.

"Done."

She slammed the skylight shut and fled. A shadow leaping across moonlit tiles, sliding down a rainwater pipe into a deserted service alley. Pressed against cold stone, she listened. Shouts echoed far away. No alarm near his quarters. "He’ll drink. He has to."

After agonizing minutes, she ghosted back to the West Courtyard.

In her cold chamber, Zhiruo changed, hiding the dark silk. She stared into the darkness, the vial now empty in her secret compartment. A grim satisfaction warred with lingering dread. Xie Zhan’s smile haunted her—the wolf scenting prey.

"He’ll be dead by dawn," she told herself, crawling into the barren bed. "Vengeance is served."

Outside her door, unseen in the shadows, Auntie Liu stood sentinel. Her stern face betrayed nothing, but her eyes lingered on Zhiruo’s window before melting back into the night.

The gilded cage held its breath.

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