Midnight descended like a tempest, its fury crashing through the heavens. Rain hammered the palace eaves in a relentless rhythm, as if the skies themselves mourned or raged at what fate had set in motion.
Thunder rolled above the capital, and in its wake, three women screamed through labour—three women whose lives were tethered by destiny's cruel thread.
In the heart of the imperial palace, a suffocating tension gripped the chamber where Empress Xia Rui lay drenched in sweat.
Her silken sheets were twisted beneath her fists, knuckles white with the effort of enduring wave after wave of pain. Candlelight flickered against her pallid face, casting long shadows across her trembling body.
"You're almost there, Your Majesty," the midwife urged, her voice steady but urgent. "Just one more push!"
Summoning her last ounce of strength, Xia Rui bit down a cry and pushed with all the determination of a warrior. And then—life. The new-born's first cry tore through the chamber like a herald of hope.
"Nyaaaa…"
"It's a boy, Your Majesty!" the midwife announced with teary joy.
But the Empress, her strength spent, sighed and collapsed against the pillow. Her breathing was shallow, her skin cold.
"My Queen!" the midwife gasped in alarm, rushing to her side.
Elsewhere in the capital, in the General's mansion illuminated by the warm glow of lanterns, another child was being born. In a richly adorned chamber, Concubine Lin Yue clung to the General's hand as pain coursed through her body.
"You should be with your wife," she whispered between gasps. "She's in labour too."
"No," General Gu Cheng replied, his voice low and resolute. "You're more important."
Lin Yue's heart fluttered. He chose me.
"Everything will be fine," Gu Cheng said, brushing sweat from her brow. "I'll be right outside."
He left the chamber, but his absence didn't dim the light in Lin Yue's heart. She gave everything she had, body and soul, to bring her children into the world. Twin cries soon filled the room—two infants, one boy and one girl.
"Gu Ruolan and Gu Mochuan," she whispered, gazing at them with pride. Twins… a blessing. In that moment, she believed with unwavering confidence: I will be the true Madam Gu. This is my rise.
Yet beyond her triumph, the truth lingered. General Gu had taken two wives. Xiao Lan, his official wife, resided in the secluded courtyard, shrouded in silence and sorrow.
Back in that dim courtyard, Xiao Lan labored alone. Her maid Wanwan, inexperienced but fiercely loyal, clutched her mistress's hand.
"You can do this, My Lady," she whispered with quivering lips. "Just one more push."
Xiao Lan thought of her husband—his distant eyes, the cold indifference in his voice. Pain mingled with heartbreak. But she refused to let despair consume her. She gritted her teeth and pushed.
At last, a fragile cry broke the stillness.
"It's a girl!" Wanwan cried, tears streaking down her cheeks. "She's beautiful!"
Xiao Lan took the baby into her arms, trembling as she kissed the child's forehead. A faint rose-shaped birthmark bloomed on the infant's skin—an omen, a second chance.
"Hua Rui," she whispered. "A new beginning."
Back in the palace, the midwife bowed before the Emperor.
"Your Majesty, it is a bo—"
"How is she?" the Emperor interrupted, eyes frantic. "How is the Empress?"
"She is resting, Your Majesty. Exhausted, but safe."
He wasted no time. Rushing to her side, he sat by her bed and gently caressed her pale face. My beloved, he thought. He stayed beside her until the morning sun broke through the storm.
Only when she stirred did he leave to see their son. The child lay swaddled in silk, sleeping soundly. A strange mark briefly shimmered on his forehead, vanishing before the Emperor could make sense of it. A chill ran through him. This child is not ordinary…
He sent for an old friend—one skilled in ancient omens and forgotten lore.