The sun hung low over the horizon, casting the Forbidden City in hues of gold and deep crimson. From his quarters within the palace, Prince Chun (Zaifeng) watched the light refract through a lattice window, dancing across the silk curtains and polished wooden floor. Far in the distance, faint smoke trails still rose from areas in the city where Boxer rebels had clashed with foreign forces.
News had reached the court of skirmishes, retaliations, and looming foreign reprisals. Empress Dowager Cixi, ever calculating, had not fully committed to any single course of action. The rebellion she had hoped would drive out foreign influence now threatened to bring ruin to the dynasty she sought to protect.
Zaifeng sat at his desk, a small bronze oil lamp flickering beside him. His brush hovered over a blank sheet of parchment. Beside him lay a sealed letter—one he had written days ago but had not dared to send.
It was addressed to Yuan Shikai, commander of the Beiyang Army.
"What if this fails? What if the letter is intercepted? What if Yuan Shikai sees through my intentions and turns against me?"
But hesitation had cost him everything in his first life. Inaction had been his greatest failure.
He dipped his brush in ink, his hand steady despite the storm raging in his chest, and began to write.
"To General Yuan Shikai, Commander of the Beiyang Army,"
"The tides of our empire grow restless. Fire spreads across our lands, and smoke clouds the vision of our court. In such times, stability is not just a goal—it is a necessity."
"Your stewardship of the Beiyang Army has been nothing short of admirable. The men under your command stand as one of the few pillars of strength holding our fragile peace together. But pillars must be supported, General. Even the strongest stone will crumble if left to bear the weight alone."
"I do not write to give orders, nor do I write to flatter. I write because I believe you see the same cracks in our foundation that I do. We must act—not recklessly, not hastily, but with precision."
"I will not ask for your loyalty, for such things are earned, not requested. But know this: should you find yourself in need of an ally within the palace—one who shares your vision of stability—you may find such an ally in me."
"May Heaven guide us through these trying times."
"Prince Chun, Zaifeng."
Zaifeng placed his brush down, his heart hammering in his chest as he read over the words. They were carefully measured—an olive branch without appearing weak, an invitation without desperation.
He carefully folded the parchment, sliding it into a plain silk envelope. Wax dripped onto the seam, and he pressed his personal seal into it—a dragon encircling a pearl. A symbol of wisdom, power, and vigilance.
Next came the harder part: getting the letter delivered without interception.
Zaifeng called for Li Yuan, his most trusted eunuch and an old servant who had once served his father, Prince Chun Yixuan. Li Yuan entered the room with a low bow, his frail frame casting a long shadow under the flickering lamplight.
"Your Highness," Li Yuan said, his voice soft and reverent.
Zaifeng held up the sealed letter. "Li Yuan, I need you to deliver this to a trusted contact outside the palace. It must reach General Yuan Shikai without being intercepted."
Li Yuan's brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing. He stepped closer and took the envelope with trembling hands.
"Do you trust me, Your Highness?" Li Yuan asked quietly.
"With my life," Zaifeng said firmly.
Li Yuan bowed deeply. "Then it will be done."
The wax seal on the envelope still glistened under the soft light of the oil lamp as Li Yuan disappeared into the shadows, carrying Zaifeng's fragile gamble in his hands. The room fell silent once more, save for the faint crackle of burning incense.
The door creaked softly, and Youlan stepped inside. Her arrival was unannounced but expected; their marriage, arranged and formal, had taken place earlier that year. She wore a robe of pale jade green embroidered with faint floral designs. Her hair was swept into a modest knot adorned with a single hairpin.
"You're still awake," she said softly, her voice smooth and careful. She carried a small lacquered tray, a porcelain teapot resting upon it.
Zaifeng turned away from the desk and forced a faint smile. "I doubt I will sleep tonight."
"You should try," Youlan replied, placing the tray on the table and pouring tea into a delicate cup. "You carry the weight of the empire, Zaifeng. But even strong hands must rest."
Zaifeng sat down across from her, cradling the warm cup in his hands. The silence between them was calm, unpressured.
As she studied him, her brows furrowed slightly. "You sent a letter tonight, didn't you? Something important."
Zaifeng hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."
Youlan didn't press for details, didn't pry. Instead, she said softly, "Then I will hope for its safe journey."
Zaifeng stared into the tea's golden depths, a faint warmth spreading through his chest. Youlan didn't understand the full weight of his burdens, but she didn't need to. In her quiet presence, there was a stillness he had begun to rely on.
The next two days crawled by with agonizing slowness. Every creak of the palace floor, every murmur from the eunuchs, every glance from an official felt weighted with suspicion.
Zaifeng maintained his composure, attending court meetings with the Empress Dowager and sitting silently as she discussed the Boxer Rebellion with her ministers.
Cixi had grown more erratic in her decisions. One day, she would order the court to remain firm against foreign powers, the next, she would hint at peace negotiations. The weight of her indecision loomed over the Forbidden City like a gathering storm.
But Zaifeng waited. He knew his influence would grow not by shouting louder than others, but by whispering more wisely.
On the third evening, just as the sun dipped below the palace walls, Li Yuan returned.
The eunuch stepped into Zaifeng's chamber with hurried, uneven steps, clutching a small silk pouch. His face was pale, but his eyes were sharp.
"It has been delivered, Your Highness. And… a reply has come."
Zaifeng's fingers twitched as he took the pouch and carefully opened it. Inside was a folded slip of parchment bearing Yuan Shikai's personal seal—a tiger standing atop a mountain.
He unfolded the letter and read:
"To Prince Chun, Zaifeng,"
"Your words carry wisdom beyond your years, and your courage is not unnoticed."
"The Beiyang Army stands as a shield against chaos, but a shield must be wielded by a steady hand. The palace is a place of shadows and whispers, and trust is rarer than jade in the mines."
"Know this: I listen. And if the moment comes when action must be taken, I will remember this letter."
"May our paths align, Your Highness."
"General Yuan Shikai."
Zaifeng exhaled slowly, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. It wasn't an open declaration of loyalty—it couldn't be. But it was a beginning. A bridge built with ink and caution.
Zaifeng leaned back in his chair, clutching Yuan's letter in his hand as his mind raced.
"Yuan Shikai is cautious, but he is listening. That is enough for now."
But this was only one piece of the puzzle. Yuan controlled the military—a vital tool, but not the only one he would need. Political stability required more than swords and rifles. He would need thinkers, administrators, and reformers.
"Next will be Zhang Zhidong. If Yuan Shikai is the shield, Zhang Zhidong is the architect."
The Boxer Rebellion would not last forever. Zaifeng knew the foreign powers would retaliate, and when they did, the dynasty would teeter on the edge of oblivion. He could not allow it to fall.
For now, he had planted one seed. It was fragile, vulnerable to the winds of palace intrigue and military ambition, but it was growing.
The fate of the Qing Dynasty rested on whether he could nurture it before the storm arrived.
Outside, the palace bells rang faintly, signaling the arrival of night. Zaifeng blew out the oil lamp, plunging his chamber into darkness. His eyes remained open, staring into the void, his thoughts churning like storm clouds.
"The first thread has been pulled. Now, I must weave the net."