Morning.
The bell of the temple rang.
Incense curled through the air.
Golden Buddha statues lowered their gaze in silent serenity.
This was the cleanest place in the entire inner palace.
At least—
on paper.
Qing Tian stood in the side hall of the temple.
She did not kneel.
She was reading.
Spread across the table—
three years of temple supply ledgers.
The pages were yellowed.
The handwriting precise.
Too precise.
Perfect—
to the point of being false.
"Three hundred dan of new rice each month…"
"For offerings, for monks, for porridge distribution."
She read it softly.
Then looked up.
"And yet—"
"thirty chests in the granary are empty."
"Director Qing."
A sharp, controlled voice cut in.
The Empress Dowager had arrived.
Dressed in plain robes.
No ornate ornaments.
A picture of quiet devotion.
"This is sacred ground."
She smiled faintly.
"You come here to audit accounts…"
"…is that not somewhat inappropriate?"
Qing Tian closed the ledger.
Looked up.
Met her gaze directly.
"Your Majesty is right."
"The temple is a place of purity."
Her voice was calm.
"Which is exactly why…"
"…it should not be dirty."
A flicker crossed the Empress Dowager's eyes.
"What do you mean by that?"
Qing Tian reached into her sleeve.
Took out a small cloth bundle.
Opened it slowly.
Inside—
a handful of rice.
Uneven in color.
Broken grains.
Dull gray edges.
"This was taken yesterday…"
"…from the bottom of the porridge pot."
She spoke evenly.
"You should know, Your Majesty…"
"…tribute rice does not look like this."
"And—"
She flipped open the ledger.
"On the ninth day of the third month…"
"The records say new rice entered storage."
She lifted her gaze.
"But that day—"
"There was a heavy storm in the capital."
"No grain ships arrived."
Silence.
Instant.
Crushing.
The Empress Dowager's smile—
froze.
Just for a moment.
"You investigate quite thoroughly."
Her tone softened again.
"But these matters…"
"…are handled by those below."
"Perhaps greed has led them astray."
A clean deflection.
Push the blame downward.
"That is possible."
Qing Tian nodded.
"Which is why…"
"I did not report immediately."
She turned slightly.
"…and instead—"
"I brought a witness."
The doors opened.
A young eunuch was brought in.
He dropped to his knees instantly.
Shaking.
"I—I was responsible for delivering temple supplies at night…"
"Those sacks of rice…"
"…came from the back gate of the Bureau of Garments."
"The records said…"
"…they were under the Empress Dowager's 'incense allocation.'"
Boom.
The temple hall—
felt like it had been struck head-on.
"Nonsense!"
The Empress Dowager's voice rose sharply.
"A mere servant dares slander me?!"
"Do you wish to die?!"
Qing Tian didn't even look at her.
She only said, calmly:
"Your Majesty…"
"This is a temple."
"The gods are watching."
"Those who lie…"
"…will face retribution."
At that moment—
footsteps sounded outside.
Steady.
Measured.
Gao Dequan entered.
Behind him—
a flash of imperial yellow.
"The Emperor—"
Everyone dropped to their knees.
Except—
Qing Tian.
She bowed.
But did not kneel.
Tang Yi's gaze swept the room.
Paused on the ledger.
Then—
on the handful of rice.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
"A place meant for purity…"
"…yet someone uses it…"
"…to feed their own greed."
He turned.
"Director Qing."
"Continue your investigation."
"From today onward—"
"All temple grain accounts…"
"…are under your authority."
One sentence.
Public.
Decisive.
A blade.
The Empress Dowager's face—
drained of color.
Afterward
The hall emptied.
Qing Tian stood at the temple steps.
Spring wind lifted the hem of her robe.
For the first time—
she felt it clearly.
Power—
was no longer just something pressing down on her.
She had begun—
to hold a piece of it.
And this—
was only the beginning.