The capital bloomed with red banners.
Inside the great walls of Zhou Imperial City, a silent invitation had spread—elegant scrolls sent to every noble house with daughters, wives, or nieces once tied by blood to the Bai clan. Some were barely remembered. Others had long changed their surnames to avoid association.
But none dared to decline the Empress's summons.
The feast was called "A Celebration of Winter Peace."
But those in the court whispered a darker
"Inside the Grand Orchid Hall, crimson lanterns swayed above jade columns. Tables overflowed with rare dishes—plum wine, lotus-roasted duck, and candied dewfruit—but none of the guests touched their plates.
Fifty women sat along the great hall.
Fifty women with beautiful gowns and fearful eyes.
At the head table, Empress Zhao Lian sat like a lioness among deer. Her golden robes shimmered with phoenix embroidery. Her eyes glided from face to face.
Her voice was sweet and poisonous.
"I am pleased so many could attend. In memory of Lady Bai Yan, may this banquet soothe old wounds."
Among the guests sat Madam Han, mother of Han Eri—the girl who vanished after harem selection. She gripped her wine cup tightly, eyes flicking to the Empress's smile.
Near her was Lady Mo, whose daughter had been forced into the nun palace two years ago. Her hands trembled under her sleeves.
Everyone present had a connection to Lady Bai Yan. And everyone knew it.
Then, slowly, maids began pouring the wine.
Jade goblets. One by one. Soft clinks. No one drank.
The Empress raised her cup.
"To peace," she said.
Not one woman responded.
In that breathless moment—the doors burst open.
A servant stumbled in, blood dripping from his mouth.
He collapsed at the foot of the dais and gasped, "Forgive me, Your Majesty—but... the grave... someone broke Bai Yan's seal. The Songstress of Red Valley has vanished."
The Empress's smile shattered.
Every head turned.
Then came a whisper—first soft, then louder, spreading like wildfire:
"The exiled general is alive..."
The Empress stood sharply. "Enough! Guards—seal the hall!"
But the damage was done.
Terror bloomed in every woman's chest. Not because of the Empress—but because of what her reaction confirmed.
The forgotten were returning.
And this feast… might have been their last supper.
Far from the capital, in a quiet forest temple, Ye Qingran knelt before the unrolled scroll.
Ji Shentao stood beside her. "The feast has begun."
Qingran lit a stick of incense and whispered:
"Let the Empress drink her own silence. The time for mourning is over."
She rose. Behind her, a wall of names shimmered under candlelight.
She placed her hand over a new one:
Han Eri – Status: Alive… but captive.
And marked her next destination.