The palace breathed beneath a sky swollen with the full moon's silver gaze, its jade pillars gleaming faintly in the lantern light. Xu Liang stood just within the grand hall's threshold, his figure calm yet unreadable, the embroidered silk of his noble house's colors muted beneath the soft glow. Around him, courtiers exchanged silken smiles sharpened like swords, their voices weaving through the air like a delicate incense—sweet, yet tinged with something acrid and dangerous.
The banquet was in full bloom. Music drifted from the raised platform where musicians plucked guqin strings and coaxed breath from bamboo flutes. The mingling of qin and xiao was a fragile balance—notes rising and falling like the court's ever-shifting tides. Lanterns hung suspended like bright stars caught in carved jade branches, their glow casting warm pools of light on the marble floor. Rich lacquered tables bore dishes both sumptuous and symbolic: mooncakes filled with lotus seed paste and salted egg yolk, braised pheasant glazed in honey and spice, and fresh river fish steamed with ginger and scallions.
Xu Liang's eyes, however, were not on the feast but on the figure at the far end of the hall—Rong Yue. The prince stood as the dutiful royal heir should, in his public masculine robes, each fold and hem a carefully measured declaration of his role. Yet beneath that armor of fabric, Xu Liang saw the subtle tension—the slight tightness around the prince's jaw, the almost imperceptible tremor of his fingers as they wrapped and unwrapped a jade ring, a secret talisman perhaps. The court's gaze was a thousand needles, probing, judging. The prince's feminine essence, so carefully repressed, was a fragile thread barely concealed beneath the surface.
A ripple of laughter drew Xu Liang's attention to a rival lord, a man known for his sharp tongue and cruel wit, raising a cup toward Rong Yue. His toast, thick with insinuations, brushed the air with poison, mocking the prince's "lack of a proper heir." The words hung like a blade's edge in the festive air.
The lord's voice was smooth, deliberately slow. "To Rong Yue, the future of the dynasty—may his lineage be as fruitful as the lotus in the autumn pond. Though, we all hope the seed is not lost to the water."
Murmurs followed, some stifled laughter, others sharp glances.
Rong Yue's lips pressed into a thin line. His hand tightened around the stem of his wine cup, knuckles paling.
Xu Liang moved closer, voice low and measured as he murmured to a nearby courtier, "It is an ill season for laughter that cuts like this. Let us redirect the melody, lest it sour the night."
The courtier inclined his head subtly, and Xu Liang's words spread like a soft breeze. Another noble interjected with a light joke about the emperor's fondness for mooncakes, diverting attention. Slowly, the sharp edge of the insult dulled.
Rong Yue exhaled quietly, a breath he had held too long. His gaze flicked to Xu Liang, a fleeting flicker of gratitude barely disguised beneath the formal mask.
"Your timing is impeccable, Xu Liang," he said quietly when they found a moment away from prying eyes.
Xu Liang inclined his head, replying softly, "The court is a stage. One must know when to speak and when to step into the shadows, Dianxia."
Before the prince could answer, a sudden hush rippled through the hall. A messenger's hurried footsteps approached, the words he carried heavy and urgent.
Whispers spread rapidly: a scandal, brewing and now ignited. The hall's warmth chilled as tension knotted the air.
Xu Liang caught Rong Yue's eye again and Together, they navigated the throng, careful to avoid drawing notice despite the growing unrest.
As they slipped down a shadowed corridor, a dagger flashed from the darkness. Xu Liang's body reacted before thought, shoving the prince aside.
The corridor erupted in chaos the instant the assassin lunged. The metallic whisper of steel slicing through air, a gasp, then a sudden, horrifying silence.
Pain bloomed sharp and red as The assassin melted into the chaos, leaving a stunned silence behind.
Wei Zhen, the prince's personal bodyguard, stood rooted, jaw tight, muscles coiled, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. Every instinct screamed to protect, yet he knew his duty: safeguard the prince at all costs.
"After him! Do not let him escape!" the prince shouted. Without hesitation, the remaining guards bolted after the fleeing assassin, their boots striking sparks from the courtyard stones. The clangor of pursuit echoed through the palace walls.
Rong Yue's eyes widened as he turned to face Xu Liang who had fallen to his knees.
"Liang-di!" His voice was taut, disbelief and fear mingling as he caught Xu Liang before he could hit the floo
Xu Liang managed a grim smile through the sting. "I suppose there will be blood on your robes tonight, Dianxia. A poor showing for a prince."
Rong Yue's breath caught, then he allowed a wry chuckle. "A guest with a concussion and a stab wound? That would make me the worst host in the empire."
—--
Xu Liang lay pale and trembling on the low bed, the dark stain of blood spreading across his robe. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows over the chamber, illuminating Rong Yue's tense face.
A physician, an older man with a neatly bound queue and calm eyes, stepped forward. He knelt beside Xu Liang and began his examination with a steady gaze.
"Tell me," the physician said gently, "What do you feel in your chest and abdomen?"
Xu Liang's lips trembled. "Cold. So cold."
The physician nodded, taking in every detail. He observed Xu Liang's complexion carefully: the flush of fever along his cheeks, the pallor around his lips, and the faint tremor in his hands. "Your Qi is weak… and the blood has been poisoned."
He reached for Xu Liang's wrist, pressing three fingers lightly against the radial pulse. "The pulse is uneven… swift in some places, faint in others. It tells me the poison has begun to disrupt the flow of Qi, striking both the liver and the heart."
Xu Liang's breaths came shallow, but the physician continued calmly, his hands moving to gently palpate Xu Liang's abdomen. "Tender here, but no rupture. Good. The poison has not yet reached your vital organs fully. ."
He withdrew a small satchel from his belt, pulling out a bundle of herbs, carefully prepared powders, and a vial of crimson liquid. "These must be taken immediately. I will write a prescription for you. You just take it in the morning and at night. The decoction will guide the Qi and strengthen your blood. But it will cause you pain. You must endure it, gongzi."
Rong Yue's eyes were tight with worry. "Can he survive this?" he asked quietly.
The physician pressed the pulse again, his gaze unwavering. "Im so sorry, Dianxia. The wound is poisoned with shuāng huā dú, a rare slow yet relentless toxin. The poison is cunning, and its nature is highly unusual. I cannot cure him entirely but I can help slow its progress. With careful care and these medicines, the body may endure long enough for an antidote to be sought. But without the antidote, he only has a few months left"
Rong Yue nodded, swallowing hard. "Thank you, Difu."
With that, the physician gathered his tools and left, the sound of his wooden clogs fading into the quiet hall. Rong Yue knelt beside Xu Liang, carefully helping him sit upright against the pillows. Xu Liang winced but did not resist.
"Wei Zhen, Inform the Dàlǐ Sì" Rong Yue asked, his voice low but firm. "They can investigate the shuāng huā dú, find the culprit-"
"Wei Zhen, Keep this secret for now." Xu Liang met Rong Yue's gaze, eyes sharp despite the pallor. "The court cannot see weakness. If word spreads that the crown prince's confidant is dying because of a poisoned blade, every enemy, every rival will see an opening. You cannot risk it."
Rong Yue's jaw tightened. "But the poison—"
"I know," Xu Liang interrupted, his voice faint but resolute. "I trust you. But the court must remain unaware. No one can know that they touched me."
Rog Yue's eyes burned with silent fury. He gently gripped Xu Liang's neck, resting his forehead against Xu Liang's.
"You are not to suffer in silence. I will find a cure. No shadow will touch you while I am here." His voice was fierce, trembling with quiet resolve as he pulled away. "Do you hear me?"
Xu Liang looked at him, a flicker of warmth in his exhausted eyes. "I hear you. But you must think beyond us. One misstep, one slip of the tongue… the court will descend like a storm. For now… secrecy is survival."
They argued quietly, words mingled with sighs and the soft shuffle of the guards' footsteps outside. And as Xu Liang leaned back, weak but determined, Rong Yue's hand stayed firm upon his, a silent promise that he would not falter, and that even if the court knew nothing, no shadow would reach them while he drew breath.
Wei Zhan adjusted his grip on the hilt of his sword, standing closer to the bed. Outside, the two other guards returned with news of the captured assassin, their breaths heavy in the quiet chamber. But within, Xu Liang's world had narrowed to the gentle weight of the Rong Yue's's hands, the faint bitter smell of crushed herbs, and the flickering light that seemed to hold both death and hope in its flame.
Xu Liang's voice softened, almost a whisper. "May I sit in your garden?"
"Of course" Rong Yue's face had a look of worry as he went to assist Xu Liang.
" Dianxia, let me."
Wei Zhen stepped forward, lifting Xu Liang into his arms. They moved through the palace gardens, fragrant with osmanthus and jasmine. Moonlight cast silver lace on the leaves.
At the pavilion, away from all eyes, they finally spoke freely. The night air held a fragile stillness, as if the moon itself leaned closer to listen. Xu Liang traced the delicate pattern of carved latticework with a finger, feeling the cool wood beneath his touch, the scent of osmanthus hanging heavy and sweet in the garden's breath.
"Wei Zhen walks the gardens every night," Rong Yue said softly, his gaze distant. "He says the palace has ears even where we cannot see."
Xu Liang met the prince's eyes, noting the fatigue there—an exhaustion born not only of duty, but of constant vigilance. "And yet even here, danger found its way," he murmured.
Rong Yue's lips curved in a faint, bitter smile. "I have lived with shadows longer than I care to count, but I have not learned to outrun them."
A pause hung between them, filled with the sounds of distant frogs and the whisper of wind through bamboo.
"Do you ever wonder," Xu Liang ventured, "if this life—this court, with all its guile and gilded cages—is a melody we are forced to dance to, rather than one we choose?"
Rong Yue's eyes glimmered with something close to sadness, yet resolute. "Perhaps. But even a forced dance requires grace. And sometimes, moments of stillness."
Xu Liang inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of unspoken truths pressing just beneath the surface. "You wear your grace like armor."
"And you," the prince replied quietly, "carry your secrets like a second skin."
Their eyes held each other's, a brief communion beyond words, the kind of intimacy that only silence could speak.
Rong Yue's voice broke the silence as he gestured toward a cluster of glowing lanterns swaying softly in the breeze. "The Courtyard of Red Lanterns is known for its artists, its poets, and the occasional… unconventional gathering."
Xu Liang arched his brow. "Unconventional?"
"Whispers of music that defies tradition—strange rhythms, unfamiliar instruments. Some say it unsettles the spirits."
A wry smile touched Xu Liang's lips. "And here I thought the spirits were more unsettled by court intrigue than by music."
The prince chuckled softly, the sound like a secret shared. "Perhaps both. But some say that the music doesn't belong."
Xu Liang's brow furrowed. "Music that does not belong?"
The prince nodded. "An invitation or a warning. Father has ordered an investigation. I want you with me when we seek the truth."
Xu Liang's eyes met his, steady and sure. "Then I will come."
Their conversation was interrupted by the soft crunch of footsteps on gravel. Wei Zhen appeared, vigilant as ever, his eyes flicking between them.
"Dianxia," Wei Zhen said respectfully, "the marquis's manor has been informed of our arrival tomorrow. The Dàlǐ Sì said they'd send some investigators to help us."
"They will only get in the way. We only need them to make the arrest." Rong Yue said.
Wei Zhen nodded before dispatching a guard with the message before turning back to Rong Yue "Dianxia, you were supposed to meet with the Empress Dowager after the banquet."
Rong Yue nodded, standing. "Xu Liang, I am glad you will be accompanying me."
The prince's words carried a weight that stretched beyond mere alliance; they spoke of trust forged in the crucible of shared danger.
As Rong Yue and Wei Zhen retreated, Xu Liang lingered a moment longer beneath the lanterns' glow, letting the quiet settle around him like a shroud.