Chapter 33: A Visitor’s Plea and a Gathering Storm

Morning mist curled through the palace gardens as Li Xiao arranged her notes in the Lantern Council pavilion. The scrolls before her outlined the upcoming Spring Festival of Poetry—a joint celebration with the Western Isles featuring recitations under lantern glow and Isles’ koto melodies woven into imperial zithers. She tapped her brush thoughtfully, recalling scenes from The Tale of the Princess Kaguya, where moonlit poetry revealed hidden truths.

A soft knock at the pavilion doors made her look up. Lady Meng—recently returned from her garrison service—stood in the doorway. Her ornate robes were plain now, trimmed in simple white as a sign of penance. She bowed deeply.

“Archivist Li Xiao,” Lady Meng said, voice quiet. “May I enter?”

Li Xiao rose and offered a seat. “Of course, Lady Meng.”

Lady Meng hesitated before stepping inside. She laid a folded parchment on the table. “I come with a request—and with gratitude. Your forum healed wounds I thought would never close. I wish to learn from you and the Lantern Council. May I observe your preparations for the poetry festival?”

Li Xiao’s chest warmed. “Your presence is welcome. Your insight as former Minister of Rites will enrich our council.”

Lady Meng bowed again, relief shining in her eyes. “Thank you.”

They walked through the pavilion’s lantern-lit aisles as Li Xiao explained the festival’s schedule: poetry workshops, lantern‑writing stations, and an Isles’ koto recital by Ambassador Eirian’s cultural envoy. Lady Meng listened attentively, offering suggestions drawn from her years in court: a ceremonial tea‑pouring ritual before each recital, and a moment of silent reflection under the moon.

“In my garrison,” Lady Meng said softly, “I saw how rituals heal hearts. Poetry under lanterns… it will bind our people more tightly.”

Li Xiao smiled. “Your experience will guide us.”

They paused by a model lantern inscribed with “Words that light the heart.” Lady Meng traced the characters. “Beautiful. May I help paint some?”

“Please,” Li Xiao replied, handing her a brush.

As they painted side by side, the bond between them felt like new shoots pushing through winter’s soil—fragile, yet full of promise.

Late that morning, a page arrived with an urgent seal from the Ministry of Defense. Li Xiao broke it open and read:

Grand Advisor Jin Tao,

Warlord clans in the central provinces—once pacified—have refused to remit grain tribute. They claim the treaty with the Isles has disrupted traditional markets. Skirmishes flare along the river roads.

—Minister Gao of War

Li Xiao’s heart tightened. She crossed the pavilion to Jin Tao, who had just entered with Lady Meng.

“Warlords rebel again,” she said, handing him the letter. “They threaten our trade routes.”

Jin Tao scanned the lines, his expression grave. “These are the same clans who profited from scarcity. They fear competition.” He folded the letter. “I must ride to the central provinces. Li Xiao, I need you at my side.”

Lady Meng stepped forward. “May I accompany you, Grand Advisor? My experience with frontier garrisons may prove useful.”

Li Xiao met Lady Meng’s gaze, surprise flickering. Lady Meng inclined her head respectfully. “I wish to serve.”

Jin Tao regarded Lady Meng thoughtfully, then nodded. “Your knowledge will be welcome. We depart at first light.”

That evening, Li Xiao and Lady Meng finalized preparations in the Lantern Council pavilion. Lanterns hung overhead, their paper shells now inscribed with poems of safe passage:

“Through wind and rain, our lanterns guide the way.”
“Let courage be our beacon in storm and strife.”

Li Xiao dipped her brush to add the final lines. Lady Meng watched, her posture more relaxed than Li Xiao had ever seen.

“Your leadership shines,” Lady Meng said. “I am honored to learn from you.”

Li Xiao paused, touched. “And I am honored by your trust.”

At dawn, the caravan assembled in the eastern courtyard. Two armored carriages awaited, flanked by imperial marines and Isles’ sailors. Ambassador Eirian and Lady Mira came to bid them farewell, presenting travelers’ scarves woven from Isles’ sea‑silk.

“May these scarves warm you on the road,” Ambassador Eirian said, draping one around Li Xiao’s shoulders.

Lady Mira offered one to Lady Meng. “And may your service bring renewal.”

Jin Tao took Li Xiao’s hand. “Stay by my side,” he whispered.

She nodded, heart racing. Lady Meng climbed into the second carriage, bowing to Li Xiao.

“Safe travels,” Li Xiao called, and the carriages rolled away, the clatter of hooves echoing off marble. Lanterns overhead swayed in the breeze, their silent watch continuing even as the sun rose.

As they left the palace walls, Li Xiao looked back at the unlit lanterns dangling like dormant fireflies. Ahead lay the road to the central provinces—winding through fertile fields and misty hills. Each mile carried them into uncertainty, but Li Xiao felt a quiet confidence: they traveled not alone, but as a united front of advisor, archivist, and reformed minister.

Jin Tao guided the lead carriage, his posture resolute. Lady Meng studied maps of the river roads, and Li Xiao reviewed her notes on trade patterns and local grievances. The caravan’s banner—a phoenix and lotus entwined—fluttered in the morning breeze, a symbol of hope and renewal.

And so they rode toward the gathering storm, prepared to face warlords, protect alliances, and keep the empire’s lanterns burning bright—together.