The Dragon's Gambit

The Forbidden City was alive in the early hours of dawn—not with activity, but with whispers. Behind its towering crimson walls, secrets flowed like water through unseen channels. Eunuchs shuffled silently across polished stone floors, their paper-thin shoes barely making a sound. Servants moved with downcast eyes, clutching trays of tea or bundles of silk. Above it all, the golden rooftops glimmered faintly in the pale morning light, their edges blurred by the damp chill of autumn mist.

In the Hall of Mental Cultivation, Prince Chun (Zaifeng) sat alone, the weight of two lifetimes pressing heavily on his shoulders. A slender stream of incense smoke rose in lazy spirals from a bronze censer on the low table before him. The faint aroma of sandalwood and myrrh clung to the air, mingling with the stillness of the chamber.

He was seventeen again. Young, strong, unblemished by time. But inside, his soul felt ancient, carrying the shadows of two lives—the pain of a regent who had seen his dynasty collapse and the quiet sorrow of a historian who had watched history repeat itself through dusty pages.

His reflection stared back at him from a polished bronze mirror across the room. The face was youthful, his eyes sharp and clear, yet weighed down with the knowledge of what was to come.

"Today begins the game. Today, I step onto the chessboard with the Empress Dowager herself."

A faint knock came from the intricately carved wooden doors.

"Your Highness," came the thin voice of a eunuch. "The Empress Dowager awaits you."

Zaifeng exhaled, forcing his trembling hands to still as he smoothed the silk fabric of his robe—a deep crimson embroidered with golden dragons and swirling clouds. Every fold, every thread was a symbol of imperial power and divine authority.

"Calm. Steady. You cannot falter now."

The heavy doors creaked open, and Zaifeng stepped into the long marble hallway. Eunuchs flanked him, their heads bowed low, their hands tucked neatly into their sleeves. The faint clack-clack of his boots echoed through the still corridor, each step measured and deliberate.

The Hall of Longevity and Health was an opulent chamber, heavy with the scent of incense and the faint metallic tang of burning oil lamps. The golden light illuminated silk draperies cascading from the ceiling like frozen waterfalls, their surfaces embroidered with dragons coiling amidst celestial clouds. Intricately carved jade screens divided the room, creating an atmosphere of both intimacy and overwhelming grandeur.

At the far end of the hall, behind layers of sheer silk curtains, Empress Dowager Cixi sat on an elevated platform. She was partially obscured by shadows and flickering lantern light, but her presence filled the room like a storm cloud rolling across a summer sky.

Her face was powdered white, her lips painted a deep crimson. Her dark eyes—sharp and penetrating—peered out from behind the veil, studying Zaifeng with the precision of a hawk measuring its prey.

Zaifeng moved forward, his knees bending as he lowered himself to the cold marble floor.

"Your servant greets the Empress Dowager," he said, his voice calm and clear. "May Heaven and Earth grant Your Majesty eternal health and prosperity."

Cixi's voice, soft and unyielding, sliced through the silence.

"Rise, Prince Chun."

Zaifeng rose slowly, keeping his gaze respectfully low. He could feel her eyes scanning him, weighing him, testing him for cracks in his composure.

"You have grown since I last saw you," she said, her voice carrying the faintest note of curiosity. "Seventeen now, aren't you?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Seventeen…" Cixi repeated, her painted nails tapping softly on the jade armrest of her chair. "A dangerous age for a prince. Old enough to understand ambition, but young enough to be reckless."

Zaifeng remained silent, letting her words settle in the air.

"Tell me, Zaifeng, have you been following the news of the Boxer Rebellion?"

The question was sharp, sudden—a test. The rebellion had thrown the northern provinces into chaos, driven by superstition, desperation, and hatred of foreign powers. And yet, the Qing court was divided—some saw the Boxers as patriots, others as uncontrolled mobs leading the empire to ruin.

Zaifeng's heart hammered in his chest, but his face remained calm. His voice, when he spoke, was measured and thoughtful.

"Your Majesty," he began carefully, "the Boxers are born of desperation and anger, both powerful forces. But anger without discipline is like wildfire—it consumes everything in its path, leaving only ashes."

Cixi's eyes narrowed slightly, her painted lips forming a faint smile. "A wildfire, you say? And what would you do, Zaifeng, if you were standing in my place? Would you extinguish it?"

Zaifeng hesitated for a moment, choosing his words with surgical precision.

"No, Your Majesty. I would guide it."

"Guide it?" Cixi's voice sharpened. "And how would you do that?"

"Fire can destroy, but it can also cleanse," Zaifeng said softly. "If properly contained and guided, it can burn away corruption, fear, and weakness. But left unchecked, it will consume us all."

For a long moment, the chamber was silent. The only sound was the faint crackling of incense sticks burning nearby.

Cixi let out a soft chuckle, though there was no humor in her voice. "You are bold, Zaifeng. Bold, and perhaps… wiser than your years suggest."

Zaifeng bowed slightly. "Your Majesty honors me with your words."

The Empress Dowager's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she leaned back into her chair.

The conversation drifted to other matters—minor disputes in the southern provinces, taxation issues in the interior, and the court's preparations for dealing with foreign diplomats. Zaifeng spoke only when prompted, his answers measured and calm. He was careful to present himself as thoughtful but unthreatening—a prince willing to serve, not one eager to rule.

But beneath his composed exterior, Zaifeng's mind raced. Every word from Cixi was a thread in the vast web of imperial politics, and every response he gave was a step across a razor's edge.

At one point, Cixi mentioned Yuan Shikai, the powerful military general commanding the Beiyang Army.

"What do you think of General Yuan, Zaifeng?" she asked casually, her eyes sharp.

Zaifeng hesitated only briefly. "General Yuan is capable, Your Majesty. But like all powerful men, he must be… carefully guided. Loyalty without guidance can become ambition."

Cixi smiled faintly. "Spoken like a true prince."

The air in the Hall of Longevity and Health hung heavy with incense and the weight of unspoken words. Empress Dowager Cixi's sharp eyes lingered on Zaifeng as their conversation drew to a close.

"Zaifeng," Cixi said slowly, her fan pausing mid-air. "You speak with wisdom for your age, but wisdom alone will not safeguard your lineage. Have you given thought to your future… your family?"

Zaifeng's gaze remained respectfully low. "Your Majesty, I serve where I am needed. My focus remains on my responsibilities to the empire."

Cixi's lips twitched into a faint smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Duty to the empire, yes. But the empire also requires stability from its princes. Your engagement to Lady Youlan of the Yehenara clan must not be neglected. A prince needs heirs, Zaifeng."

Zaifeng bowed deeply. "I understand, Your Majesty. When the time comes, I will fulfill my responsibilities."

"See that you do," Cixi said, her voice final. "Go now, and remember—loyalty is a virtue, but lineage is a legacy."

Youlan. The name felt distant, a duty waiting to be fulfilled. He had met her once—briefly, formally, surrounded by family members and ceremonial scripts. Her face was kind, her demeanor gentle. But she was, at this point, little more than a name attached to an expectation.

"A duty. A promise waiting to be fulfilled. But in a world where every step feels like a misstep, how much room is there for a future built on tradition?"

The audience ended after what felt like hours. As Zaifeng bowed deeply and prepared to leave, Cixi spoke once more.

"Zaifeng."

He turned, his face carefully neutral.

"Loyalty is the most important virtue for a prince. But wisdom… wisdom ensures that loyalty serves its purpose."

Her words were heavy with meaning, and Zaifeng bowed again. "I will remember your words, Your Majesty."

As the grand doors closed behind him, Zaifeng let out a slow, shaky breath. His hands trembled faintly as he clenched them into fists.

"She is watching me. Testing me. Every word I speak could be my last if I misstep."

But as he walked back down the marble corridor, his stride steadier than before, a faint ember of hope glowed in his chest.

"Now, I must act. Carefully. Quietly. The first piece is in place."

Outside, the sun had risen fully, bathing the crimson walls and golden rooftops of the Forbidden City in a harsh, brilliant light.