Chapter 210: The next ruler of the celestial empire
The capital was too quiet.
Even in the earliest hours of the morning, the palace usually hummed with the distant sound of servants hurrying about, of brooms against stone, of low conversations drifting down corridors. But today, the air was still. Tense. Heavy. The silence wrapped itself around the golden roofs like a shroud, as if the very stones of the imperial palace had chosen to hold their breath.
It was coronation day.
The dead emperor had yet to be buried yet the ones being coronated did not seem to care.
Everything had to be perfect, they said
The entire palace was drenched in purple. From the silken banners cascading from the balconies to the lotus petals scattered in shallow bronze basins, everything had been dyed in the royal shade of ascension. Purple—the color of power, of legitimacy, of divine mandate. But today, it looked less like royalty and more like mourning.
Palace officials rushed through the halls, their footsteps hurried, voices kept just below panic. Every mosaic tile was scrubbed until it glowed, and every lantern was lit with fresh oil. Dust was banished from every corner. A new red carpet, lined with golden dragon thread, had been rolled down the steps of the great coronation hall.
But no amount of polish could wash away the bloodstains beneath.
In the women’s quarters, the First Consort was being dressed.
She looked like she was one step from the grave.
Her face was pale, lips drawn tight as maids tied layer after layer of gold-trimmed robes around her fragile frame. Her eyes were sunken. The color in her cheeks had not returned since the poisoning, and her movements were slow, robotic. The phoenix crown placed upon her head wobbled slightly, forcing a servant to steady it with trembling hands.