The palace had turned into a hive of whispers.
Servants spoke behind their sleeves, eyes wide with fear. Every time a door creaked open, someone flinched.
"The Empress is ill," they murmured.
"Plague… they say it's the gods' punishment."
"Will she survive?"
From the highest maid hall to the lowest kitchen corridor, rumor spread faster than wind. No one dared go near her courtyard. Even the guards stationed outside stood several paces away, afraid to breathe too close to the forbidden door.
Inside the sealed chamber, the air was still — so still that even the flicker of the lamp seemed too loud.
The Empress lay on the bed, wrapped in sheets, her face pale and spotted with false rashes. Sweat glistened on her forehead, her breathing faint and uneven.
Her maid, Xiaoyu, had stayed beside her until the Emperor's orders were fulfilled — boiling linens, burning incense, sealing the courtyard. But now that it was quiet, she finally stepped out to fetch fresh water.
