I was left alone

The Cold Palace

The cold palace was a world apart from the bustling Forbidden City—a desolate refuge for forgotten consorts and discarded nobles who lived out their days in quiet obscurity. At eleven, Shenmiao, the daughter of the late Empress Chu, had been sent to this remote corner of the palace, exiled for reasons she only began to grasp as the years passed. Eleven years later, she was no longer a child; solitude had sharpened her mind and honed her skills in the arts, medicine, and the intricate web of hidden politics that swirled within the imperial court—lessons imparted by the other forgotten women of the palace.

Her education was as unconventional as it was invaluable. The concubines and consorts had taught her the delicate brushwork of traditional painting, instilling in her a sense of beauty and precision. Among them, the so-called "evil consort," once the emperor's favorite, had schooled Shenmiao in the arts of seduction. Rising from humble beginnings as a village girl, this consort had once captivated the emperor's heart and climbed to prominence, only to be cast aside and relegated to the cold palace when her charm no longer served his interests. From her, Shenmiao learned not only the techniques of allure but also the painful realities of power and betrayal.

Another consort, a former general, had imparted martial skills, transforming Shenmiao into a formidable presence. With her swift reflexes and tactical acumen, she could defend herself against the lurking dangers of both palace intrigue and physical threats. These lessons forged her into a woman who could navigate the complexities of life within the palace's icy confines.

One winter morning, an imperial edict arrived, shattering the stillness of the cold palace. Shenmiao's heart raced as she read the words that summoned her to meet the emperor. Why, after so many years of silence, had he suddenly remembered her? The question gnawed at her, awakening a mix of apprehension and curiosity. She was all too aware of the stories whispered among the discarded women—how the emperor ruled with an iron fist and how the God of War, the youngest son of the previous emperor and the last of his lineage, loomed as a powerful figure in the shadows of the court. This brother, the sole survivor of a past era, represented a potential rival to the emperor’s reign and added another layer of complexity to her situation.

As she prepared for the audience, Shenmiao’s thoughts drifted to the ghosts of her past: her mother, the late empress, her older brother who had met a tragic fate, and the sibling who never saw the light of day—each a victim of the palace's brutal schemes. The emperor was no savior; he was a part of the very curse that had befallen her family.

The cold palace, with its eerie corridors and chilled air, felt more alive than ever as she contemplated her next steps. The walls had heard the stories of the women who once held power and influence, now relegated to a life of obscurity. Yet within this secluded realm, there remained a calm consciousness among its inhabitants, a resilience that transcended their circumstances.

As she stepped into the sunlight for the first time in years, Shenmiao wondered what awaited her in the outside world. Would the emperor recognize her strength, or would she merely be a pawn in a game of thrones she barely understood? She was determined to uncover the truth behind her summons and seize the opportunity to reclaim her place—not as a discarded daughter, but as a woman forged by the trials of the cold palace.

Shenmiao had long grappled with the bitterness of her father’s rejection. His indifference had cast her into the cold palace, a place meant for forgotten daughters and discarded consorts, where survival depended on cunning and resilience. She had endured this solitude for years, honing her mind and body, perfecting the four arts: the delicate strumming of the guqin, the strategic maneuvers of Go, the graceful strokes of calligraphy, and the vibrant expressions of Chinese painting. Alongside these, she had mastered martial arts, war strategies, and the intricate dance of court politics.

Why should she sacrifice her hard-won freedom for a politically motivated marriage to a prince of the grasslands? The mere thought ignited a fierce rebellion in her heart. Those people—bloodthirsty, beast-like—would not only strip her of her agency but also serve as a barrier to her revenge. Revenge for her mother, who had been a victim of palace schemes, and for her brother, whose fate she had never truly understood. With every passing day, the need to reclaim her family’s honor grew stronger, and a marriage would only serve to chain her to a destiny she had no intention of accepting.

The court was rife with factions and whispers. Shenmiao was acutely aware that most of the courtiers were loyal to her maternal grandparents' faction. However, with her grandfather's sudden death, and her grandmother’s declining influence, the political landscape had shifted. Now, the prime minister’s household was dominated by the remnants of Concubine Mei’s lineage—her father now held power, while Concubine Mei’s brothers and half-brother squandered their chances, engrossed in gambling and brothels. Meanwhile, her timid sister endured the disdain of the court, further solidifying the belief that women, even those of noble blood, were often regarded as pawns in a larger game.

Shenmiao understood that Empress Jin's jealousy was palpable. She feared Shenmiao's potential, knowing that this daughter, born of tragedy, might rise to claim the very position her own daughters occupied. To Empress Jin, Shenmiao was not just a reminder of her shortcomings; she was a living threat.

When she encountered Prince Yu in the library, the atmosphere crackled with potential. His reputation as the God of War preceded him, but Shenmiao sensed the vulnerability beneath his hardened exterior. He had returned a changed man, forged by conflict and burdened by his own past. To him, Shenmiao appeared as a mere child seeking to manipulate him, but she saw him as a critical ally in her quest. With careful manipulation, she would turn his perception of her from a naive princess to a formidable player in the court.

That evening, Shenmiao resolved to visit the imperial library, a treasure trove of knowledge she had not seen in years. The musty smell of old parchment greeted her, and she ran her fingers along the spines of ancient texts, seeking records of past dynasties and strategies that could serve her in the future. She would not reveal her political acumen or martial skills to the court; those were her secrets, hidden behind the guise of a gentle artist.

Time was of the essence. She had only a month before the wedding, and she needed a plan to escape her fate. Shenmiao would have to disguise herself—perhaps as one of the palace attendants or a traveling merchant. The idea of slipping away under the cover of darkness, unrecognized, was tantalizing. Once free, she could blend into the crowds, gather resources, and plot her revenge without the oppressive watch of the court.

As the days unfolded, Shenmiao found herself contending with the intricate personalities of her sisters. The first princess, calm and composed, seemed an impenetrable wall, while the third was a tempest of arrogance and fury. The crown prince, though handsome and favored, was still a pawn of Empress Jin, caught in the tangled web of their mother’s ambitions. Navigating these relationships would be essential if she was to succeed.

Shenmiao took solace in the knowledge that she had not been raised in the harem, shielded from the suffocating constraints and envious rivalries. Instead, she had learned from the women in the cold palace—those who had mastered the art of survival and manipulation. They had taught her how to seduce and control, skills that would serve her well.

Her heart hardened with determination. She would not be another discarded pawn in her father’s game. Shenmiao would seize her destiny, whether that meant escaping the marriage, disguising herself to infiltrate the grasslands, or returning to the palace to reclaim what was rightfully hers. Her journey was just beginning, and she would make her mark on the world, one calculated move at a time.