The Seventh Prince, Xue Feiyan, sat in the great hall, a crystal cup turning in his hand. The wine inside reflected the faint smile on his lips. His gaze drifted across the room to where Zuo Xunxiao was drinking, sullen and silent, before he looked away.
"Feiyan."
"Imperial Father." Xue Feiyan heard the Emperor's call and rose at once.
"Sit," the Emperor said, gesturing to the seat. Xue Feiyan was his favorite son—brilliant, capable, and always respectful to the Empress Deng. "Was the matter of the southern floods handled properly?"
"It was, Imperial Father. The five hundred thousand taels of stolen relief silver have been recovered. The corrupt officials are in prison, awaiting trial."
"Good," the Emperor murmured, his interest already fading. "The Empress misses you. Go see her when you have the time."
"Yes, Father."
"Your Majesty," Guo Shangzhong whispered at the Emperor's side. "The Fifth Prince and General Murong have arrived."
Xue Liulan entered, leading Murong Jin by the hand. He wore yellow robes, a pleasant, satisfied smile on his face that erased any trace of his usual debauchery. He leaned in, whispering something to the woman at his side.
Murong Jin had changed into a gown.
A whisper of pale violet set off her fair skin. Her dark hair was unbound, cascading down her back like a silken waterfall, with a single, perfect peach blossom tucked behind her ear. She walked with her head slightly bowed, a step behind Xue Liulan.
The Emperor stared. He had never loved the former Empress Murong, but he couldn't deny that the women of her family were always stunning, possessing a sharp, martial beauty beneath their grace.
"Father, we've returned," Xue Liulan said, releasing Murong Jin's hand and giving a lazy bow. "Her armor was an eyesore, so I took the liberty of finding her something of my mother's to wear."
"She is a true beauty," the Emperor mused. "No wonder Murong Yan hid her away on the frontier for so long."
"Is Father saying I am not worthy of her?" Xue Liulan asked, though his eyes glanced pointedly at Zuo Xunxiao, who was now downing another cup of wine.
The Emperor laughed. "General Murong is now the Lord of Yuling. A title that rivals your own, my prince."
"I know my talents are no match for the Crown Prince, nor my skills a match for my Seventh Brother," Xue Liulan said with a sigh. "But surely, my luck with women is second to none?"
At the mention of the Crown Prince, a shadow passed over the Emperor's face. "His illness has dragged on for too long…"
"The heavens will decide the Crown Prince's fate, Father," Xue Feiyan said calmly. "What we can control is the stability of the realm. And I will not let it falter."
Murong Jin stood silently, taking it all in. The Crown Prince was the Empress Murong's eldest son. But rumors said he was sick. Dying. He wouldn't last the summer. That was the only reason her father would back a lost cause like the Fifth Prince.
"Indeed. With the Crown Prince ill, Seventh Brother has been burdened with much," Xue Liulan said, turning to his brother with a smile.
Xue Feiyan's brow twitched, but he quickly smoothed his expression. "It is my duty as a son to share my father's burdens."
Xue Liulan simply smiled, returning to his seat. He filled a cup to the brim, then rose again, holding it high. "Then let us drink to the Crown Prince's health. A full cup, everyone."
"As you wish, Fifth Brother," Xue Feiyan said, raising his own cup. They drank as one.
Murong Jin was standing close to Xue Liulan. Close enough to see everything. As he tilted his head back, she saw it clearly: a single tear, tracing a path from the corner of his eye into his hair.
Who was this man? On the surface, a degenerate wastrel who cared for nothing. But she felt it then, a certainty in her gut: deep inside him was a forbidden place, a fortress of sorrow no one was ever allowed to touch.
The imperial banquets were notoriously long. By the time the guests began to depart, the first light of dawn was breaking. Xue Feiyan and Deng Qinyao, however, did not leave the palace, but turned toward the Empress's residence.
"What are your thoughts on the Fifth Prince's marriage, Your Highness?" Deng Qinyao asked, his voice low.
Xue Feiyan's fan spun in his fingers. "He's a lost cause," he said with a smile. "You can't put a crown on a fool and call him a king."
"Oh? This old minister sees it differently."
"Hm?" Xue Feiyan turned, waiting.
"The Murong family may be weakened, but a dying beast can still bite. Surely Your Highness understands this."
A flicker of surprise crossed Xue Feiyan's face before vanishing behind his usual placid smile. "The Prime Minister is wise." He watched Deng Qinyao's back as he walked away, the fan still turning in his hand. Once the old man was out of sight, he spoke to the empty air.
"Come out."
A shadow detached itself from the wall. "My lord."
"Report."
"Murong Yan is still in Wuchuan. No unusual movements. The general's return was for her investiture, as expected."
"And Zuo Xunxiao?"
"The Zuo family has been asking for his transfer back to the capital for years. Murong Yan finally granted it."
Xue Feiyan nodded, dismissing the agent with a wave. So, with the Crown Prince dying, the Murongs hadn't given up hope after all.
At the palace gate, the crowd was thinning. Murong Jin stood with Zuo Xunxiao, who was leaning heavily against a wall, his eyes unfocused. He'd had too much to drink.
"Let me take you home," she said softly. He was always so disciplined. In all their years on the battlefield, she had never seen him like this.
"Jin… Jin," he slurred, grabbing her hand and pulling her into a desperate embrace.
"Zuo Xunxiao," she said, her hands pressed against his chest. She didn't dare push too hard, afraid he would fall.
"Jin, don't marry him. Please. Wait for me. Just wait until I'm worthy of you. It won't be long, I swear it won't be long."
"You…" Her hands froze. She didn't know what to say. She had only ever seen him as a brother-in-arms. And even if she hadn't, it was too late. The Emperor had spoken.
"I love you, Jin," he choked out, his arms tightening around her. "I've always loved you. From the first moment I saw you on the training grounds five years ago."
"Let go of me," she said, finally shoving him back against the wall. "Zuo Xunxiao, I am honored by your feelings. But it is too late."
"Jin," he pleaded, reaching for her again.
"I suggest you unhand her."
The voice was cool and even, coming from right beside her. Xue Liulan was standing there, his expression calm, his eyes like chips of ice.
He looked at Zuo Xunxiao. "She is my woman now. I suggest you let go."
"You?" Zuo Xunxiao roared, his words thick with wine. "You think she's yours? Are you worthy?"
"Zuo Xunxiao!" Murong Jin snapped.
"By decree of His Majesty, the Emperor," Xue Liulan answered, his calm infuriating.
"The decree!" Zuo Xunxiao laughed, a bitter, broken sound. He pointed a trembling finger at the prince. "Xue Liulan, even with a decree, you will never be worthy of her!"
"That is not for you to worry about," Xue Liulan said lightly. He turned to Murong Jin. "I've already sent for a carriage from the Zuo estate. Will you come with me to my residence, or meet me at Chengyue?"
Murong Jin hesitated. "I should get him home…"
"You've been awake all night. You must be tired."
"I'll meet you at Chengyue," she said quickly.
Seeing he wasn't leaving, she added, "I will see Zuo Xunxiao home. You may go first, Your Highness."
"Hm," Xue Liulan nodded, his gaze dropping to Zuo Xunxiao's hand, which was still clamped around Murong Jin's arm. He looked up at her and smiled faintly.
She understood at once. A public scandal at the palace gates. She wrenched her arm free.
Zuo Xunxiao's hand was left empty, and his heart sank with it. He watched her nod a farewell to the prince.
"Xue. Liu. Lan." He spat the name, his hands clenched into fists, murder in his eyes. If the prince died, Jin wouldn't have to marry him.
His hand flew up.
Murong Jin's was faster. She caught his wrist, her grip like steel, shoving him back a few steps. He stared at her in disbelief.
"Are you insane?" she hissed, glancing quickly over her shoulder.
Xue Liulan was still walking away at a leisurely pace, seemingly unaware. Good. He didn't know martial arts; he shouldn't have noticed. If he had, the consequences for Zuo Xunxiao would have been disastrous.
But what she couldn't see was the look on Xue Liulan's face as he walked away—the faint, mocking smile, and the ice in his eyes.