Palace Servant

Feng Yewu’s eyes snapped open. The murky darkness before her suddenly dissipated, revealing the familiar luxurious bed curtains, their subtle patterns shifting in the light. The golden threads embroidered into the image of a phoenix still seemed poised to take flight. This was the sight she had grown accustomed to, lying upon the bed in the emperor’s private chambers within the palace—a scene she had seen day and night.

But for Feng Yewu, who had just been forced by the ministers to abdicate the throne, this was an anomaly.

Just yesterday, in the grand hall, she had sparred with those rebellious officials over the old grievance that “a woman should not rule as emperor.” The verbal battle had raged, with her retorts leaving the stodgy old men fuming with anger. Then, unexpectedly, countless imperial guards had surged in from outside and surrounded her throne, encircling the phoenix seat upon which Feng Yewu sat.

In that moment of shock, Feng Yewu had understood—the ministers and regional lords had long since conspired together, meticulously preparing for this moment. All they had needed was the right opportunity to raise their troops, force her hand, and demand her abdication.

Realizing the tide could not be reversed, Feng Yewu refused to be dragged away in disgrace. Under the watchful eyes of the entire court, she stepped down from the phoenix throne, wrote her edict of abdication, and then walked to the Cold Palace of her own accord. Her departing figure was proud and cold, the aura of a ruler still surrounding her. The civil and military officia