The peach blossoms bloomed early in the valleys below Dongxi, but the winds from the north still carried a bitter chill.
Lu stood at the edge of the temple courtyard, staring down the winding path she had walked so many times. Her world had once been no larger than this mountain; stone steps, prayer chants, the scent of incense. But now, she had tasted something more. It is power.
She did not yet have it, but she felt it pulling her like a thread. She wasn't meant to live and die in silence.
That month, Madam Cheng's lessons grew stranger. Instead of poems and ink, she began teaching Lu the old stories, the ones passed by whispers, not brushstrokes.
"There were once twelve noble clans in the empire," she said, pouring bitter plum tea into cracked cups. "Each ruled a different province under the Emperor's name. But time and ambition scattered them like seeds in a storm."
Lu listened carefully, brushing her calligraphy in silent strokes.
"The Red Lotus Clan was known for its healers. The White Serpent Clan guarded secrets of ancient poisons. The Golden Fan Clan produced ministers, clever with tongues and lies."
Lu's brush paused.
"And the others?" she asked.
Madam Cheng's eyes narrowed.
"There is one I must warn you about. A clan once outlawed by the Emperor himself." She lowered her voice.
"The Black Crane Clan."
It was said the Black Crane Clan lived deep in the mountains of Xuezhou, where the trees never shed their snow and the rivers ran black from minerals in the stone. Their symbol was a twisted crane with one wing dipped in blood.
They had once served as advisors to the royal court, gifted in astrology, medicine, and sorcery. Until they turned on the throne.
"They summoned spirits, bound storms, and cursed rivals," Madam Cheng said. "When their plot was discovered, the Emperor sent his army. But the Black Cranes vanished into the mist."
"Were they destroyed?" Lu asked.
"No," Madam Cheng whispered. "Just forgotten by choice. Their blood still flows in the empire, hiding in plain sight."
Lu held back a shiver.
That night, she dreamed of a black crane circling above her, its wings so wide they blocked out the sun. When she woke, the phoenix hairpin on her table had turned cold.
A week later, a royal envoy arrived in Dongxi. Six horses, golden armour and banners with the Emperor's seal. The entire village gathered in awe, their faces twisted with curiosity and fear. Lu watched from behind the temple gate.
An official stepped forward, dressed in crimson silk. His voice was smooth, but his eyes were sharp.
"By order of His Majesty," he declared, "the imperial court seeks candidates for the Spring Selection."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
The Spring Selection, a tradition held once every three years, where girls from across the empire were chosen to serve in the palace. Some would become maids. A rare few would rise as consorts or even favored concubines.
The envoy opened a scroll and read the names of villages required to submit candidates.
"Dongxi is among them," he finished.
Lu's heart beat once, hard.
Later that evening, Master Wang summoned Lu to his chambers.
"You heard the announcement," he said.
She nodded.
"You wish to go."
It was not a question. Lu met his gaze. "I have to."
Master Wang sighed. "I always knew the mountain would not hold you forever."
He took her hand gently.
"There is danger in the palace, enemies wear silk and smile. You will have no friends, no family."
Lu nodded. "I have no family now."
He let her go with a heavy heart.
"Then go," he said. "And rise."
Preparations began quickly.
Madam Cheng gave her a silk robe from her youth, embroidered with clouds and cranes.
Sister Li combed her hair and whispered blessings.
Master Wang handed her a scroll of mantras and a jade talisman. "To remember where you began," he said.
Before she left, Lu climbed the temple's highest peak alone. She lit three sticks of incense and bowed to Guanyin. Then she whispered a vow.
"I will find the truth. I will carve my name into stone. I will not kneel unless I choose to."
The wind answered with silence.
The journey to the capital took twelve days by carriage. The envoy's group collected girls from other villages along the way. Most were older than Lu, sixteen or seventeen, some trembling, some proud. They whispered among themselves, eyeing Lu's calm silence.
At night, Lu listened. She learned.
She learned which clans had daughters favored in court: the House of Qi, the Yan Clan and the Han Clan.
She learned rumors: A new consort had died mysteriously. A eunuch had been found with his tongue cut out. And behind it all, the Emperor's silence. They said he was young, beautiful and cold. Lu felt no fear.
On the tenth night, the group passed through the mountain region of Xuezhou. It was quiet. Too quiet. The wind howled like wolves, and the snow crunched with unseen footsteps.
That night, one of the girls, Min, a merchant's daughter—woke screaming.
"A shadow… by the trees… a crane with no eyes!"
The others laughed nervously. But Lu did not. She went to the window of the carriage and looked out into the woods. There, for just a second, she saw a figure. A tall man, robes dark as ink. A mask covering his face. And behind him, a single black-feathered crane.
The capital walls rose at dawn. They stood taller than any tree, carved with dragons and phoenixes, glowing gold in the rising sun. Lu stepped out of the carriage and took her first breath of imperial air. It smelled of jasmine, ash, and secrets.
Inside the city, they were taken to the Selection House, a sprawling estate where candidates were prepared for court presentation.
Each girl was assigned a room, a servant, and a training schedule.
Lu's maid, Xiao Zhen, was a quiet girl from the southern coast with nimble fingers and clever eyes.
"You're very calm," Xiao Zhen said as she brushed Lu's hair. "Most girls cry their first night."
Lu smiled. "I already cried years ago. I don't need to again."
Over the next few days, Lu trained in the Four Arts; music, calligraphy, painting, and chess.
She wore robes dyed in imperial purple, walked with a scroll balanced on her head, and answered questions about poetry, family honor, and the teachings of Confucius.
But she also listened. She learned of Lady Xin, the Emperor's current favorite, rumored to be from a clan once tied to the Black Crane.
She learned of Noble Consort Mei, known for her beauty and her network of spies.
She heard of a hidden hall within the palace off-limits to all except a few eunuchs and the Emperor himself. A place where shadows lingered too long.
One evening, while exploring the training gardens, Lu passed an older maid kneeling at a stone basin.
The maid looked up. Her eyes were black. Not dark but black. She smiled too widely.
"You smell like fire," the maid whispered.
Lu froze. Then a eunuch's voice shouted from behind the hedge, and the woman vanished like smoke.
That night, Lu dreamt again of the black crane. But this time, it was not circling above. It landed and bowed.