The lunch that followed morning court was nothing short of suffocating.
Zhu Mingyu sat at the head of the table, his wine untouched, his food barely disturbed. Across from him, Lady Yuan poured tea with the precision of a trained courtesan, her every movement graceful—but her face a mask of forced grief.
To her left, her father, General Yuan Han was silent, chewing each bite like it might hold a hidden message. His heavy brows furrowed with unspoken accusation. At his side, Commander Yuan Lixing radiated a fury so cold it felt like ice beneath the sun. He hadn't touched his food.
The silence had stretched too long.
"You've barely eaten," Lady Yuan said softly to the Crown Prince, her voice sweetened but brittle. "You haven't been sleeping well, either. All this mourning… it must be difficult for you."
Zhu Mingyu didn't look up. "I didn't kill your uncle."
"Of course not," she said quickly, but her eyes slid to her father. "No one is suggesting that."
