The wind swept down from the northern frontier, carrying with it the scent of snow and war. On this early winter's day, the golden-tiled roofs of the palace lay veiled beneath a thin, cold blanket of snow, pristine and blinding. Within the An Tường Palace, music drifted softly—melancholy and ethereal—while a woman dressed in white moved with grace, like a snowflake dancing on the breeze.
Her every movement was light, silent, and peerless.
The newly appointed Noble Consort, Sở Khuynh Tuyết, performed a dance that left every gaze captivated, every breath held. Among the resplendent audience of nobles and ministers, only one pair of eyes never strayed from her form—that of the Emperor, Diệp Trường Uyên.
"Your Highness," murmured a palace maid beside her, voice barely audible, "the world sighs for you once more tonight."
A faint, cold smile touched her lips.
In a hall filled with hundreds, she stood alone.
The capital, one year ago.
The Trấn Bắc Vương Manor hosted a grand banquet in celebration. A long-awaited guest had returned from the South—Phong Hoa Gongzi, the mysterious head of the Vọng Nguyệt Trading Guild, whose name had become legend across the realm.
They said he was a prodigy in commerce, a gentleman with both elegance and strength, noble and untouchable.
No one knew… that he was in fact a she.
Her true name—Sở Khuynh Tuyết.
Born as the true daughter of the Tạ Marquis household, she had been swapped at birth and cast out into the snow. It was the great general Sở Chiêu Nghiêm who found her, a dying infant on a winter night, and raised her as his own.
He died when she was only four.
Her foster uncle, Sở Trạm, now the formidable Trấn Bắc Vương commanding four hundred thousand troops, took her in and kept her safe behind a male identity.
At thirteen, she wore armor, face masked, and led a daring counterattack that broke the siege of Định Bắc Fortress.
At sixteen, as Phong Hoa Gongzi, she had already established a trading empire stretching across three nations.
At seventeen, she returned to the capital.
She rode in on a black steed, clothed in white, with a silk veil hiding her face. Her presence caused even ministers and princes to hold their breath—an otherworldly figure cloaked in mystery.
No one recognized her. No one knew she was the rightful daughter of the Tạ Marquis.
It was then that the Emperor issued a decree—with no heir born of blood, he would begin choosing from his adopted sons a suitable Crown Prince.
Among the hopefuls was Diệp Tĩnh Thuyên, the ambitious heir of the An Vương line.
He came to the Trấn Bắc Vương Manor, not to seek the daughter of the Sở family—of whose existence few knew—but to speak directly to the mysterious Phong Hoa Gongzi.
"The An Vương family seeks a marital alliance with your noble house," he said plainly. "We request the hand of the Sở family's daughter in marriage."
Sở Khuynh Tuyết looked at him over her teacup, her eyes calm beneath the silk veil.
"I'm afraid," she said softly, "you must be mistaken. Phong Hoa knows nothing of a daughter."
He smiled faintly, stepping closer.
"There's no need for games," he said. "Trấn Bắc Vương has no daughters—at least, none that are publicly acknowledged. But I know the truth. You are her. I need your family's support, and you need legitimacy."
Her smile remained unchanged.
"You are correct, Thế tử. I am her," she said, voice as clear and cold as winter.
"But you are mistaken if you think I require a man's hand to walk upright in this world."
He was stunned.
She bowed lightly.
"The conversation ends here."
As he turned, wind burst through the doors, carrying in a flurry of snow that blanketed the silence between them.
That winter, rumors flooded the capital.
The Emperor—nearly forty, childless—had begun meeting with his adopted sons behind closed doors. Ministers whispered. Nobles maneuvered. Factions formed.
But only a few knew the real reason behind the silence of the Emperor.
He did not want to name an heir. Not yet. Not unless it was his own blood.
And one night, within the quiet of the palace, she came to him.
She knelt.
"If Your Majesty needs a child of royal blood… this subject is willing."
No woman had ever dared say such words. Not to his face.
But she was not any woman.
She had once drawn blades and command on the battlefield. She had once run trade routes alone through the barbarian lands. She had lived in the wild and returned a sovereign.
And now she stood before him, veiled and still, bartering not for love—but for power.
He let her go that night. Said nothing. But his hands had trembled in silence.
Later… she conceived.
Now, in the present, she dances.
And he watches.
The Emperor has decreed her to be Noble Consort. But behind the golden scroll lies another command:
"Sở Khuynh Tuyết, for her contributions to the empire and for bearing the royal heir, shall be crowned Empress."
It is an earthquake through the palace. Ministers scream behind locked doors. The harem shatters like porcelain.
But she sits upon the Phoenix Throne, her white robes untouched by dust, and slowly removes her veil before the court.
"I am Sở Khuynh Tuyết. The only daughter of Sở Chiêu Nghiêm, niece of Trấn Bắc Vương. Today, I sever all ties with the Tạ Marquis household."
A single bow, and history is rewritten in silence.
Among the crowd, Diệp Tĩnh Thuyên, the An Vương heir, stands pale and motionless.
He once thought her just another pawn to secure his ambitions.
But today, the pawn has become the queen.