Even in Takamiya, a place that does not remember the seasons, snow fell, and the Crystal Palace turned into something like a snow dome.
In winter, the Crystal Palace was like a greenhouse, where over three hundred types of flowers bloomed in clusters. The sparse sunlight that filtered through the melting snow at midday softly enveloped the flowers like cotton, lulling them into a gentle slumber.
“The poison is administered without issue. By spring, the target will be dead.”
The voice of the zhen (poison master) did not echo even within the glass-walled chamber. Neither did the sound of his high boots.
“I see. Well done. Thank you for your efforts.”
Empress Xinhua smiled. Despite the unsettling nature of their conversation, her smile remained as pure as ever.
The title of court geomancer was merely a facade.
By now, the zhen was operating as a covert poison master for the court. Occasionally, he would go to the front lines, using geomancy as a guise to weave intricate schemes. Recently, the number of incursions at the borders had noticeably increased. It was true that enemy forces, sensing an opportunity in the absence of the late emperor, had been relentlessly probing for weaknesses. But that wasn’t the whole story.
There were skirmishes and invasions that could have been avoided with proactive measures, yet the emperor showed no inclination to deter them, as if deliberately allowing them to happen.
(Does the emperor wish for war? No… If so, the scale is too small.)
Even a minor skirmish was still a war. Soldiers lost their lives—on both sides. What benefit could possibly come from such senseless conflict?
(And the empress… What is she thinking? Does she truly believe she can control me? Or does she have other plans? Just how much does she know about my past?)
“Hey, you.”
The bell-like voice of the empress pulled the zhen from his thoughts. Her eyes, adorned with iridescent depths like inlaid mother-of-pearl, gazed up at him.
The zhen despised those eyes.
“When water is too clear, no fish can survive”—those overly transparent eyes were akin to poison. Yet, there was no trace of malice in her. Even when she handed down orders for assassination by poison, she would smile as if bestowing mercy.
It was uncanny. Was she broken? Or perhaps something other than human, like a supernatural creature?
“Your lineage… Wasn’t it known as the ‘Clan of Wangqi’?”
“Indeed, but why does it concern you?”
The tone of the zhen’s voice carried a clear hint of resistance against the prying question. Yet, the empress continued as if she didn’t notice.
“Wangqi… That refers to the venomous, winged tiger, doesn’t it? To bear the name of a monstrous being comparable to Hundun, it’s no wonder your clan mastered the most potent and intricate poisons. For generations, the most skilled poison masters on the continent served the court. And yet…”
With a look of pity, Empress Xinhua furrowed her brows.
“The late emperor detested poison. But even so, burning them alive and eradicating their hidden village was far too cruel.”
“What are you getting at?”
His voice dropped instinctively.
Indeed, the zhen’s clan had been destroyed through the late emperor’s betrayal.
When severing ties with the clan of poison masters, the late emperor had ensured they could not escape and harm others by setting their hidden village ablaze. The zhen’s mother was the sole survivor.
Although the zhen was born two years later, the scenes his mother described over and over again were seared into his memory, more vivid and harrowing than if he had witnessed them himself.
“Ah, don’t make such a frightening face. That’s why you don’t need to wonder what I might know about you.”
The empress smiled gently, lowering her eyelashes.
“I know everything. I know exactly what you desire and why you returned to the court.”
She tilted her head slightly and continued:
“As long as you don’t take what’s mine, I’ll forgive everything else. No matter what you do, I alone will forgive you.”
For someone like the zhen, who felt nothing even when handling the most venomous creatures, her words sent shivers down his spine. He doubted he would feel this way even if a hundred serpents wrapped around him.
And yet, that only made it clearer.
What the empress desired was not the zhen himself but something else entirely.
“There’s something I didn’t get to consume,” she murmured. “I want it so much. I crave it to the point that nothing else can satisfy me. So, so much…”
She licked her lips briefly and smiled.
“What in the world are you?”
As a ray of light from the ceiling cut across the room, a butterfly descended.
A butterfly tinged with the poisonous blue of azurite.
“What a beautiful butterfly. Is it one of yours?”
“Who knows,” the zhen evaded, deliberately vague. He had no intention of giving her any further information.
“My, keeping secrets, are we? Fufufu.”
The empress, undisturbed, chuckled softly.
While she spoke, she admired a light pink monthly rose blooming despite the midwinter cold. But for some reason, she plucked it, snapping its stem.
It was only recently that the zhen realized the empress had a habit of destroying flowers. Though he didn’t feel sorry for the flowers, watching the act was unpleasant.
When he averted his eyes from the crushed rose, she noticed and narrowed her gaze.
“Flowers bloom to be plucked, you know.”
