Chapter 3: Truth in the Bronze Mirror

The night was pitch black, thick enough to drip with ink. The far corners of the Cold Palace were completely swallowed by darkness; even the moonlight seemed stingy, refusing to grant so much as a sliver of brightness. Shen Tan held her breath, pressing her back against the freezing wall. Peering through the gap over Bai Zhi’s shoulder, she kept her eyes locked on the entrance to that forbidden zone.

Wind swept dry leaves past her ears, hissing like a low whisper. It mixed with the slow, dragging clacks of the night watchman’s gong in the distance. Every strike sounded like a death knell tolling on the heart. At that exact moment, as Bai Zhi murmured, “Bai Zhi, strike in three breaths,” Shen Tan’s fingertips twitched. The sweat on her palms hadn’t dried yet; in the bitter cold, that thin layer of moisture instantly crystallized into ice.

Bai Zhi blurred into motion, moving as lightly as a lynx. She steered Shen Tan around the tripwire lying on the ground, disguised as a dead twig, and landed steadily beside the old kiln pit.

The pit was piled high with broken bricks and shattered tiles discarded by the previous dynasty. Black, stagnant water seeped from the cracks in the bricks. The air was thick with a pungent stench of rotting wood and dust, as if time had been frozen here for a century. Shen Tan didn’t hesitate. She went straight for the pile of wet mud.

The moment her fingertips touched that lump of gray-brown sludge, a familiar jolt of electricity shot up her nerves and straight into her brain. [Clay Form Bone Fire · Tracing] activated. Cold streams of data exploded in her mind: Iron content exceeds the limit, quartz particles are unevenly distributed, density is only sixty percent of the ideal value. If left untreated, it will crack in the kiln.

Bai Zhi crouched nearby. Her hunched figure looked pitifully humble in the thin moonlight, like a strand of withered weed. Yet her eyes were sharp as knives, scanning the surrounding shadows with wary intensity. She lowered her voice to a warning: “My Lady, this old pit connects to the burial site of weapons from the previous dynasty. If the night watch eunuchs find us, we’re both dead.”

Shen Tan didn’t turn around. Her fingers worked rapidly through the mud heap, scrubbing against rough bricks that stung her skin. She needed Kaolin impurities to neutralize the acidity, but everything around her was refuse. The biting cold wind whipped her thin clothes, making them snap and rustle, as if protesting the late-night labor.

She calmly calculated the combustion efficiency of the firewood. Ordinary pine wood couldn’t reach the over-800-degree high temperature required for firing celadon. She had to use the specific mineral veins found in the debris to reinforce the kiln walls and find a special fuel that could instantly spike the local temperature.

Seeing how determined Shen Tan was, Bai Zhi stopped trying to dissuade her. Instead, she silently picked up a piece of charcoal that was still glowing red-hot and placed it carefully at Shen Tan’s feet, shielding her from the wind. The faint glow of the charcoal illuminated Bai Zhi’s aged face. Deep worry etched lines into the wrinkles, but she didn’t ask another question. She simply fulfilled her duty as a guardian, in silence.

Shen Tan ground the powder from the special mineral vein she found into a fine dust and mixed it into the mud ball. Her fingers danced in the darkness, shaping a plain, elegant celadon tea cup by touch and intuition. The walls were thin as a cicada’s wing, the curves flowing perfectly—lines only someone who truly understood porcelain could shape.

Every turn and angle was precise, a gift from her Golden Finger and her only lifeline in this desperate situation. Just before Liu Fulai’s patrol arrived, the kiln fire was finally lit. Flames licked the walls, the temperature skyrocketing, and heat waves distorted the surrounding air.

Shen Tan stared intently at the narrow ventilation port. The kiln transformation data provided by her Golden Finger flickered rapidly in her mind, red warnings and green safety zones alternating. Pressure was building; the air pockets inside the body were reaching the critical point. If there was even a sliver of deviation, the entire cup would explode into useless slag.

She held her breath, focused her mind, and abruptly adjusted the angle of the ventilation port. She used the counter-current airflow to suppress the internal pressure. In the exact moment Liu Fulai pushed the door open, drawn by that faint but unusually warm glow, Shen Tan pushed her hands through the heat wave and pried the kiln door open a crack.

A clear, ceramic scent mixed with hot steam hit him face-on. It was the smell of earth being reborn under high heat. Liu Fulai froze on the spot, his cloudy eyes wide with shock. He had never seen celadon so warm and jade-like. It looked like living jade, glowing faintly in the cold night, completely different from the crude, mass-produced junk he was used to.

Instinctively, he stepped back half a pace, his voice trembling. “Little Master... you... did you practice sorcery?” Shen Tan wiped a bead of sweat from her temple, her tone flat. “Just a lucky Kiln Transformation.”

Liu Fulai’s attitude flipped instantly. He bowed so low his back was nearly to the ground, crawling forward with obsequious eagerness. “If the Little Master won’t look down on us, this old servant begs to grind tea and serve you. Just teach me a little of this secret art. This old servant’s eyes have grown too dull; I’d love to witness true porcelain myself.”

Shen Tan didn’t answer. She just watched him silently. She knew that in the Cold Palace, power was everything. Liu Fulai was the Head Eunuch; he controlled the distribution of supplies within the Cold Palace. If she knelt and begged for safety now, she’d become a complete slave. She had to stay sober, using her craftsmanship as leverage to keep control of the conversation.

When Liu Fulai saw she wasn’t responding, his panic grew. He was terrified of offending this deep-lying discarded concubine who might be hiding incredible talent. Wiping the sweat from his face, he ventured a probe: “Little Master, this slave dares to ask—are you lacking anything? There are some aged silver coins and high-quality Kaolin at my estate. If they’d be useful to you, I’ll send them right away.”

A flash of calculation swept across Shen Tan’s eyes. She quickly plotted out resource allocation. Silver could buy finer tools; Kaolin was key for subsequent firings. She said coolly, “No silver needed. That coarse dirt is useless. But if you have information on a high-quality porcelaneous stone vein, that’s a different conversation.”

Liu Fulai’s face lit up. He nodded vigorously. He knew Shen Tan valued resources, not empty titles. He secretly slipped a money pouch to Bai Zhi. Inside wasn’t just silver notes, but a map of hidden locations. When Bai Zhi took it, she didn’t make a scene; she just bowed slightly. Shen Tan took the map, her fingertips lightly touching it. Her Golden Finger pulsed again, confirming the real location of the vein.

She showed no greed, simply tucking it into her sleeve. This move secured the material foundation for her early survival in the Cold Palace. She refused Liu Fulai’s demand to kneel, instead treating him with a posture of equality, making it clear that the value of what she held in her hands far outweighed his authority.

Liu Fulai was slightly dissatisfied, but faced with that warm, jade-like celadon, he had to bow his head. As he turned to leave, his steps were light, almost jaunty, as if he’d been given a new life. He even hummed a little tune, entirely forgetting the gloom of moments before.

Bai Zhi stayed in the shadows the whole time, like a silent statue. She observed the interaction between Shen Tan and Liu Fulai, confirmed his safety, and continued her duty as a hidden guard. A complex emotion flashed in her eyes—worry for this young mistress, and admiration for her shocking intelligence.

After securing the resources, Shen Tan didn’t relax. She immediately started planning the next piece. Looking at the silver in her hand, she calculated how to use the funds to expand her influence. She needed more clay, more fuel, and eventually, a workshop of her own.

In this icy Cold Palace, every scrap of material mattered for life or death; every ounce of resource had to be managed with precision. She couldn’t rely on anyone except her own hands and brain.

At that same moment, Head Eunuch Zhou Xing happened to pass by. He caught a glimpse of the glinting silver in the corner. He stopped, staring at Shen Tan’s quarters with a venomous gaze. His bloodshot eyes sparkled with suspicion and greed. He muttered to himself, “Shen Tan? That piece of waste actually has people sending her money?”

Zhou Xing’s footsteps were heavy, each one carrying suppressed anger. He didn’t know Shen Tan personally; he only knew she was a remnant of the previous dynasty, a stain that had to be wiped clean. He narrowed his eyes, tapping the jade pendant at his waist as he calculated how to use this silver as leverage to get Shen Tan killed.

In the cold wind, his figure faded into the distance, leaving behind a deep chill. By the kiln pit, Shen Tan gently stroked the warm celadon cup with her fingers, feeling its heat. She knew the real danger was just beginning. The silver was bait, and it had attracted the vipers hiding in the dark.

The night wind howled, slapping dry leaves against the broken window frames with a clatter-clatter sound. Shen Tan wasn’t shaken by Zhou Xing’s spying. She carefully wrapped the last few silver ingots in oilcloth and hid them in the deepest hidden layer under her bed.

She knew that in this Cold Palace, where people swallowed others without a trace, flaunting wealth was a death sentence. But if she had nothing at all, she couldn’t even maintain the heat needed for the kiln, which was also a dead end. She had to convert value into strength before she got exposed.

The next morning, Shen Tan used the excuse of repairing the kiln opening to quietly leave the drafty room. She didn’t go to the main courtyard but detoured to the storage room on the west side of the Cold Palace. It was piled with discarded charcoal blocks and broken ceramic blanks, a place where eunuchs hauled their garbage.

Moving with extreme speed, she used the route she’d memorized the night before to dodge a few napping servants. In a blind spot where no one was looking, she sent part of the silver through a secret passage to an unassuming old eunuch. In exchange, the old man agreed that every three days, a “vagabond” would deliver a batch of unrefined, coarse clay and some dry firewood.

It was a deal that bought time with money. It hid Shen Tan’s direct contact with the outside world while guaranteeing a steady flow of resources.

However, Shen Tan underestimated how fast the tentacles of power could spread.

In the afternoon, with the sun shifting west, a slender yet cold voice rang out in the courtyard: “Which one is Shen?”

Shen Tan’s heart tightened. She stepped out of the shadows. A young woman in a goose-yellow robe stood before her, smiling brightly. She wasn’t a resident of the Cold Palace; her clothes were too refined, almost glaring, clearly having just come from behind the palace walls. The surrounding eunuchs lowered their heads and retreated, leaving only Shen Tan standing.

The woman held a half-blooming red plum blossom, a touch of rouge staining her fingertips, but her gaze pierced Shen Tan like an ice needle. “I hear a clever little bird who can turn trash into treasure has appeared here,” her tone was light, but hidden within it was a blade. “I’m curious to see what kind of sorcery can make dead wood bloom.”

Shen Tan lowered her head, her voice steady. “Your Highness flatters me. It was just clumsy effort.”

“Clumsy effort won’t save your life.” The woman casually dropped the red plum at Shen Tan’s feet. The petals were instantly stained by the dirt. “The Crown Prince has been in a foul mood lately and loves fresh stories. Since you, Miss Shen, are so good at ‘parlor tricks,’ perhaps you could show some in the side hall. If you can please him, I’ll naturally protect you. If you can’t...”

She paused, the coldness in her eyes deepening. “I won’t be able to give His Highness a proper report.”

It was a blatant snatch, and a bait. The eyes of the Crown Princess were the very beast Shen Tan didn’t want to provoke but had no choice but to face. Looking at the dirty red plum on the ground, the corner of Shen Tan’s mouth twitched in a barely perceptible curve. She slowly raised her head, meeting the woman’s icy gaze, and answered quietly: “I am willing to go.”

She turned and walked toward the side hall, her back straight. But at the corner, she swept a cold look across the hidden corners, catching the flickering surveillance eyes that lay in wait like a spiderweb. She knew that hand had already reached into her lifeline.