The empress dowager's courtyard was as serene as a painting. The lake shimmered under the sunlight, lotus flowers blooming upon its still surface, while a faint fragrance drifted in the breeze. Servants stood like silent statues, their eyes lowered, but within them hid a sharp gleam, waiting to see the outcome of the gathering.
On the pavilion by the water, the empress dowager set down her porcelain teacup. Her eyes—calm, ancient, yet penetrating—turned toward the trio who had just arrived.
"Greetings, Grandmother," the three said in unison, bowing.
"Arise," came the dowager's measured voice. She shifted her gaze toward Dong Ning, her expression softening into a smile. "Ning'er, come, sit by me."
Dong Ning's heart fluttered at the favor. She nodded obediently and stepped forward, taking her seat beside the empress dowager. The old matriarch's satisfaction was plain, though she could not resist casting a glance at Tai Jian. He, however, deliberately ignored her look, his expression calm as still water.
The pavilion had only three seats. With the empress dowager and Dong Ning seated, one remained empty. Someone would inevitably be left standing.
"Tai Jian," the empress dowager said, her lips curling into a cold smile, "take a seat."
A faint ripple of mockery spread across the servants' faces. Their eyes slid toward Tie Hongchen with thinly veiled glee, waiting for the spectacle of her humiliation.
But Tai Jian's hand reached for Hongchen's, his grip firm as iron. Without hesitation, he drew her beside him and sat down. Under countless eyes—his grandmother's included—he kept her at his side.
Hongchen flushed, torn between gratitude and unease. She wanted to excuse herself, to avoid drawing more hostility. But his hold was unyielding.
"Grandmother," Tai Jian said evenly, "Hongchen is my wife. How can I sit while she is left standing?"
"She may excuse herself," the dowager replied coldly. "I invited only you and Ning'er. A third party has no place in a family discussion."
"Is that so?" Tai Jian's tone sharpened.
The dowager's eyes narrowed. "Are you questioning me?"
"I dare not," he answered, voice calm but edged like a blade. "Yet Hongchen is my wife, and thus my family. Husband and wife must walk together. How could I leave her behind?"
The empress dowager's smile thinned. "Unfortunately, there are no more seats in my mansion. If you insist, then you can only make this old woman feel aggrieved by leaving early."
The words were a trap. To leave would be to publicly shame her, and Tai Jian knew well the extent of her power.
Hongchen leaned closer, whispering softly, "I can leave."
"At least you are sensible," the dowager said with disdain.
But Tai Jian's voice cut through like steel. "Your Majesty, since we are already here, we will simply share the seat. We are husband and wife. We share the same bed—what matter is it if we share a chair?"
The boldness in his words made the servants stiffen. The dowager's eyes flickered dangerously, yet she understood his bottom line. If she pressed him further, he would truly walk away, shattering what little harmony remained between them. She had once raised both Tai Jian and his father; she knew the blood in their veins—unyielding, hot-blooded, like beasts caged beneath a veneer of civility. To provoke them was to invite disaster.
With a cold harrumph, she relented. "Very well. Sit as you will. But her opinions are unnecessary in this meeting."
Instead of merely sharing the seat, Tai Jian went further—he pulled Hongchen directly onto his lap, his arm encircling her waist as though declaring his claim before all. The dowager's glare sharpened, and Dong Ning bit her lip, envy stabbing her heart.
Yet Tai Jian seemed entirely at ease, even daring to flirt with Hongchen in the midst of the tense silence, whispering words that made her squirm. The dowager and Dong Ning conversed quietly, but their eyes often darted toward the pair, each glance a needle.
After a long silence, Tai Jian's lips curved into a smile. "Your Majesty, surely you did not summon us only to admire the scenery?"
The dowager's gaze shifted to him, cold and sharp. "And if I did? Is my courtyard not beautiful enough?"
"Then I fear I must disappoint Your Majesty," Tai Jian replied, his voice deceptively mild. He rose to his feet, his hold on Hongchen firm. Once, he had called her grandmother. Now his address had shifted to "Your Majesty." With that change, the distance between them became clear.
"You…" The dowager's composure trembled, but she masked it swiftly. "We are only waiting for someone. Be patient."
The words struck like a thunderclap.
The three froze. None had expected another guest. Tai Jian's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering in their depths, yet he remained still.
Time dragged. One hour. Then two. The fragrance of tea had long cooled when finally a shadow approached.
A man stepped into the courtyard, clad in black armor etched with a crimson phoenix emblem. His very presence was suffocating, his aura sharp as a blade.
"Your Majesty," he greeted, bowing to the dowager.
Tai Jian's expression turned grim the instant he saw the emblem.
"Dark Phoenix Emissary," he said coldly.
The servants paled. Even Dong Ning stiffened, her heart pounding.
The emissary's gaze was like death itself.
"I have not crossed the shadows' path. Why send you here?" Tai Jian demanded, eyes never leaving the armored man.
"You have been obedient of late," the emissary said, voice like iron scraping stone. "But your existence threatens someone. You know the law of this world—only the strong deserve to live. Two tigers cannot share one mountain."
Tai Jian's eyes narrowed further. "You speak too much. It is unlike your style. That means… you have a condition."
A faint smile curved the emissary's lips. "Indeed. It is a pity your martial arts were abolished. But we offer you a way out. Marry her, and you may live."
Tai Jian's laughter rang out, sharp and cold. "Her? Who is she?"
He had already guessed. His suspicions darkened, settling upon one family in the capital. Still, to hear it from the emissary's mouth would confirm everything.
"Do not ask what you should not ask," the emissary said, his voice final, like a judge delivering a sentence.
The courtyard's air grew heavy, the silence suffocating, as though death itself waited to descend.