The imperial banquet was a gilded trap.
Lanterns hung from carved beams, glowing like captured stars, casting long, wavering shadows across polished marble floors. The scent of roasted duck and spiced wine mingled with the faint perfume of chrysanthemums placed in ornate vases along the hall. Music floated from silk-string zithers, delicate yet insistent, curling around the rows of court ladies seated with precision, their silks shimmering like water, and painted lips curved into knowing, practiced smiles.
XiaoQi wanted none of it.
She tugged nervously at the crimson robe forced upon her, the fabric thick and suffocating. She longed for her loose tunic and boots, for dirt under her nails and the smell of herbs and fire. She shifted her weight, trying to ignore Bai Hu, hidden in the folds of her sleeve, flicking his tail irritably at the stifling atmosphere.
DongZe stood beside her, a monument of calm in midnight blue. His robe fell perfectly, sharp lines against the flickering light, his posture impeccable. He said nothing, yet when he caught her tugging at the collar, his gaze sharpened. Without moving his lips, his words drifted across the space between them:
"Try to act civilized. Or do you plan to embarrass me in front of the entire court?"
XiaoQi shot him a sidelong glare, mischievous fire sparking in her eyes. "Oh, don't worry. I'll embarrass myself only."
Her words were a whisper, but they carried audacity, a challenge undercut with humour. DongZe's jaw tightened.
The whispers began the moment they stepped into the grand hall.
"That is the assassin's daughter?" a young lady murmured, eyes darting nervously.
"She looks... strange. Not at all ladylike," another hissed, her voice edged with disbelief.
"I heard she talks to chickens," a third added, eyes widening as though the idea were scandalous beyond measure.
Concubine Lian, seated near the emperor, smirked behind her sleeve, eyes cold and calculating. "Your Majesty, one wonders if such a woman is fit to stand beside our Crown Prince," she said with deliberate venom.
The Emperor chuckled lightly, his icy gaze sweeping over XiaoQi. "We shall see," he said. His tone was measured, but his eyes held a glint of curiosity, perhaps even amusement.
XiaoQi bowed, deliberately clumsy, letting the corners of her robe brush the marble floor. The angles were imperfect, her movements slightly off rhythm, but she did not falter. When she straightened, she caught the glint of something fleeting in DongZe's eyes. A flicker of amusement, sharp and dangerous, vanished almost immediately. His expression returned to its usual stone, yet she had seen it, and it made her chest lift with quiet triumph.
The hall seemed to close in around her. Silk rustled with the shifting of dozens of bodies, crystal goblets chimed faintly as attendants poured wine, and the scent of perfume and spiced meats swirled together in a dizzying haze. XiaoQi's hand twitched at her side, fingers brushing the folds of the robe, but she forced herself to stand tall, shoulders back.
A distant laugh floated from a corner of the hall. Concubine Mei, gentle and warm-eyed, watched XiaoQi with a faint smile, as if offering a quiet encouragement from across the room. XiaoQi's lips twitched. That small gesture, unnoticed by most, anchored her resolve.
DongZe shifted slightly, his hand brushing against hers as they walked toward the seat reserved for them. She noted it, though he said nothing.
The whispers continued, growing louder, more pointed, but XiaoQi ignored them. Her eyes flicked instead to the Emperor, who tilted his head, observing her with a calculating gaze. She straightened her back, chin high, and let her smile be her armour—bright, bold, and defiant.
The first toast arrived. A minister, chest puffed with authority, raised his crystal cup, eyes flicking toward the Emperor for approval.
"To the union of His Highness and Lady Chen! May she bring honour to the imperial line," he intoned, his voice smooth, measured, dripping with barely concealed irony. His eyes flicked toward XiaoQi, sharp and assessing, as if waiting for her to crumble under the weight of expectation.
XiaoQi smiled sweetly, lips curving like a fox about to pounce. She lifted her own cup, the delicate porcelain surprisingly heavy in her hand, and in one deliberate motion, downed it like a soldier in a tavern. The liquid slid down her throat, and she tilted her head back, eyes glinting with mischief. When the cup was empty, she slammed it onto the table. The sharp crack rang through the hall, silencing music and conversation for a heartbeat.
Gasps rose like a wave.
"Mm," she said, leaning back with a satisfied exhale. "Weak wine. In my hometown, even the village aunties brew stronger."
The hall erupted in shocked whispers. A few of the younger ladies whispered and clutched their fans to their mouths. Ministers glanced at one another, pale and stiff, as if a scandal had unfolded before their eyes. Concubine Lian's face contorted in horror, her plum nearly slipping from her hand, lips pressed tight as if to contain the outrage.
The Emperor barked a laugh that rang across the hall, sudden and surprising. He leaned forward on his throne, eyes glittering with amusement. "Well spoken," he said, the words carrying warmth rare for the icy man. "It seems our Lady Chen has no fear of strong spirits or strong words."
DongZe's eyes narrowed, but the tension in his shoulders eased just enough to betray a reaction. He pressed a sleeve against his mouth, hiding the dangerous curl of a smile threatening to escape. His gaze flicked to XiaoQi, sharp, calculating, and reluctant, as if noting every spark of audacity in her expression.
XiaoQi's cheeks warmed faintly from the attention, yet she held the defiance with ease. Her posture remained straight, her fingers curling lightly around the rim of her empty cup. She caught the glance of Concubine Mei, who was trying not to laugh outright, and gave her the smallest nod—a private acknowledgment of solidarity in the madness.
The court's tension vibrated like a taut string. Ministers and ladies alike watched her every movement, waiting for the inevitable collapse under scrutiny. But there was no collapse. Only confidence.
A younger minister muttered to his companion, his voice almost too low to hear, "Who is this girl... that dares to drink like a soldier and speak like a commoner?"
XiaoQi caught the whisper, and a sly smile tugged at her lips. She tilted her head toward him, soft but daring. "If the wine is weak, why pretend to sip politely?" she murmured, audible enough for a few near her to hear.
DongZe's eyes darkened, narrowing imperceptibly. He leaned just slightly toward her, voice low and clipped, not for the hall, but for her alone: "Do not make a mockery of this court."
She met his gaze evenly, unflinching. "I am not mocking, Your Highness. I am merely... speaking the truth."
The Emperor's chuckle echoed again, deeper this time, carrying the weight of both amusement and curiosity.
Around them, the hall shifted uneasily, some smiling nervously, others frowning, unsure whether to admire her audacity or condemn it.
Bai Hu, hiding in the folds of her sleeve, twitched his tail in agreement. The fox's golden eyes glinted mischievously, as if quietly encouraging her.
XiaoQi exhaled quietly, savouring the small victory. Her pulse thrummed with exhilaration. She had turned a gilded trap into a stage, and for the first time in the hall, she felt entirely in control—even if only for a moment.
The second strike came during the poetry recitals.
The hall had been arranged with delicate care. Lattice windows framed the moonlight, throwing glittering patterns on the smooth flooring. Scrolls of inked paper were strewn out on short tables, their fragrant ink combining with roasted chestnuts and mulled wine. The court sat primly, their eyes polished and calculating, each breath measured, each smile practiced.
A young nobleman walked forward, shoulders straight and robes glistening under the lanterns. He bowed with painstaking accuracy, lowered his head, and began reciting in a velvety voice dripping with trained seduction.
"A woman's worth," he began, eyes glinting as they met XiaoQi's, "is her silence, her beauty, her grace. She must smile, bend, and please, for these are the virtues of the perfect wife."
He finished with a smug bow, lips curling into a self-satisfied smirk. The court murmured softly, some nodding, others trying to conceal amusement. It was meant as a declaration of order, a trap dressed as flattery.
XiaoQi remained seated for a heartbeat, her eyes narrowing. Then, like a fox uncaged, she rose. The crimson robe rustled around her as she lifted her chin, shoulders squared, gaze flashing like sunlight on steel.
"And a man's worth," she said, her voice clear, sharp, resonant across the hall, "apparently is repeating stale lines stolen from the back of a teahouse menu."
The effect was instantaneous.
Laughter erupted from the lower servants' ranks before they could even swallow it, spilling like water over stones. Some of the younger concubines covered their mouths, trying not to break the rigid composure expected of them, while older ministers pressed their hands together, frowning but unable to suppress the twitch of amusement at her audacity.
The young nobleman went crimson, sputtering as his carefully rehearsed confidence crumbled. "I—I... that is—how dare you—"
The Emperor's laughter rang out, loud and unrestrained, echoing against the beams of the hall. He slapped the armrest, eyes bright and shining. "Sharp tongue! Sharp tongue indeed! Well spoken, Lady Chen. Truly, you are no common girl."
DongZe's gaze burned into her from beside her, the sharpness in his eyes like tempered steel. Yet it was not anger. Something flickered there, a trace of fascination, of admiration, of challenge accepted. He crushed it instantly, letting only a faint tightening of his jaw remain to hint at the turmoil beneath.
XiaoQi, unaware of the precise storm she had stirred in DongZe, allowed herself the smallest, sly smile. She sank slightly into her seat, chin lifted, letting the applause and laughter wash over her.
The young nobleman, still sputtering, backed away awkwardly, eyes wide and filled with humiliation. Whispers began to ripple through the court, a mixture of scandal and admiration. Some concubines covered their mouths in shock, others with thinly veiled envy. Even the servants dared to chuckle quietly, hidden behind columns and tapestries.
A subtle murmur reached XiaoQi's ears:
"Who is this girl, that dares to speak to nobles so boldly?"
DongZe's hand, resting at his side, twitched ever so slightly. He had intended to keep her in check, to remind her of her place. Yet with every word she spoke, with every laugh that followed, he felt the careful order of his thoughts unravel just a little.
And it terrified him.
But the night's peak came when the hall had grown quieter, and the banquet's earlier chaos had given way to a lull. The lanterns swayed gently, their golden illumination creating warm stripes on the marble floors. The faint aroma of roasted meats and spiced wine lingered, blending with the milder perfume of chrysanthemums and candle wax. Servants raced around, replenishing goblets, as the murmur of talk faded to hushed tones.
XiaoQi, sat behind DongZe, leaned in closer than was proper. Her elbow grazed the table's smooth surface, and his presence felt warm against her side.
"Your courtiers are vultures," she muttered, voice low, almost lost under the soft rustle of silk gowns. Her eyes flicked toward the other tables, narrowing at the concubines who still whispered, their glances sharp and envious.
DongZe tilted his head, the movement subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone else, and leaned just enough that his lips were near her ear. His voice was quiet, controlled, yet carried the faint warmth of exhaled air that grazed her skin and made her pulse stutter.
"And you fed them quite the feast tonight," he murmured, voice low, carrying a teasing edge beneath the formal restraint.
The warmth of his words jolted her, unexpected and unwelcome in its effect. XiaoQi shot him a sharp look, eyes narrowing. "Don't think this makes us allies," she said, voice steady but betraying a flicker of heat.
He smirked faintly, the faint curl of his lips quick and fleeting, like a shadow passing over a mirror. "No. But you've made them all fear you. That, I can respect," he replied.
Their eyes locked across the glittering hall, the crowd and the music receding into background noise. There was something dangerous in the intensity of his stare, something she could not quite name but could feel pressing against her chest. The spark of rivalry, the unspoken challenge, had deepened into something more volatile, more intimate.
The banquet concluded with music and laughter, but beneath the glittering glow of lanterns, XiaoQi felt like a fox trapped in a hunter's den. The silk gowns, polished floors, and polite applause were a cage gilded with gold, a courtly trap that demanded obedience she had no intention of offering.
She had endured the whispers, the stares, the barbs disguised as compliments. And she had survived. No, she had thrived. Every glance, every laugh, every gasp had only sharpened her wits and her courage. She had turned their gilded scorn into her stage.
But that sense of triumph was abruptly shattered when DongZe's hand closed around her wrist. His grip was firm, cool as steel, unyielding, and filled with a force that brooked no resistance.
"Come," he said, his voice low, carrying the weight of command that allowed no denial.
Before she could respond, he was dragging her down a side corridor, away from the lingering eyes of servants and courtiers. The laughter and music of the banquet faded into the distance, replaced by the soft rustle of silk banners swaying in the night breeze. Shadows stretched along the walls, painting long, slanted patterns that seemed almost to lean toward them.
XiaoQi's heart jolted, not from fear but from the sudden nearness of him. She yanked at her arm, spinning toward him with a glare that could have sliced stone.
"Unhand me. Or do you plan to scold me like a wayward child?" she demanded, voice sharp and bright, carrying a trace of mockery.
DongZe moved with a predator's grace, closing the distance before she could step back. He spun, bracing his arm against the wooden pillar beside her head, effectively pinning her in place. The faint glow of lanterns reflected off the polished walls, casting long, flickering shadows over his face. His eyes, dark as obsidian, locked onto hers with an intensity that pressed against her chest like a physical weight.
"You think yourself clever," he murmured, voice low and rough with restrained fury. "Mocking nobles, provoking laughter at court, defying every custom you are meant to uphold."
XiaoQi lifted her chin, steel threading through her spine, refusing to yield. Her gaze held his, unblinking, fierce. "Why?" she asked, voice steady though her pulse leapt. "Did I shame Your Highness? Or perhaps," she added, lips curving in a teasing smirk, "you enjoyed the show."
A flicker passed through his obsidian eyes. Something sharp. Something hungry. A hunger masked by discipline, a danger cloaked in control.
"You..." His voice dropped, thick and almost a growl, vibrating through the corridor. "You do not know when to hold your tongue."
"Perhaps," she said softly, her defiance curling into mischief, "you should silence it for me."
The words barely left her lips before the air between them ignited, crackling like fire meeting oil.
Before she could even draw another breath, his mouth crushed against hers.
It was not gentle. It was not sweet. It was fierce, claiming, a strike of dominance as much as surrender. The heat of him pressed into her, his hand firm against her jaw, tilting her face up so she could not look away. His lips moved with a force that stole her equilibrium, a sharp, demanding rhythm that left her dizzy and disoriented.
For a heartbeat, XiaoQi froze, stunned by the audacity, by the sheer weight of him. Her instincts screamed at her to push away, to scream, to recoil—but then his tongue brushed her lower lip, and the fire in her body betrayed her.
Her fingers dug into his robes, eyes fluttering shut, breath stolen as she kissed him back for a heartbeat too long, caught in the storm of heat and desire. Then, with a surge of strength she almost didn't know she had, she shoved him away. Her palm cracked sharply across his cheek, echoing down the empty corridor like a gunshot.
Breathing hard, chest heaving, her lips flushed crimson, she spat at his feet. "If that's how the Crown Prince treats women, no wonder the concubines gossip," she hissed, venom and vulnerability tangled in her voice.
DongZe's cheek bore the faint red imprint of her hand, yet his expression was unreadable, harder to read than stone. No, worse. His eyes smouldered with a dark fire, a dangerous mix of desire, control, and something he refused to name.
He leaned in slightly, enough that she could feel the heat of his body, but did not kiss her again. His voice dropped, low and dangerous, curling like smoke around her ears.
"Careful, XiaoQi," he murmured, voice edged with warning and amusement. "If you keep baring your claws, one day you'll make me enjoy the scratches."
Her heart faltered. It tripped against her ribs, her stomach twisting, and she cursed silently at the traitorous flutter of longing that rose unbidden.
Without a word, he turned, his cloak brushing the marble floor, steps long and certain, echoing down the corridor until the sound faded into silence. The warmth of him lingered, the scent of him clinging faintly in the air like smoke.
XiaoQi pressed trembling fingers to her lips, heat radiating through her chest, mind whirling with a storm of fury and desire. She was furious at him, furious at herself, furious at the way her body still burned from the intensity of the kiss, and the way her heartbeat refused to slow.
"Bastard," she muttered through clenched teeth.
XiaoQi sank against the pillar she had been pressed against, knees folding to her chest. Her mind spun, furious and muddled, and for the first time, she admitted a terrifying truth to herself.
She was not sure if she hated Yan DongZe or herself more.
DongZe stood alone in the corridor, the sting of her slap still burning faintly across his cheek. The world beyond the doors hummed faintly with the dying echoes of the banquet, but he was oblivious to it. All he could feel was the searing memory of her defiance.
He should have been furious. She had mocked him in public, humiliated his court, and now dared to strike the Crown Prince with her palm. Any other woman, any other bride, would have cowered beneath the weight of his displeasure.
But XiaoQi had not cowered. She had stared back, smirked, even teased him with the memory of her tongue and her lips.
He pressed two fingers to his mouth, scowling, tasting the phantom fire she had left behind.
What madness possessed him? To kiss her? To lose himself like a reckless boy, betraying every principle he had spent years perfecting?
She was the daughter of his father's would-be assassin. She was an unwanted bride, a thorn planted in his side, a punishment from the heavens. He should despise her. And he did despise her.
So why did the memory of her yielding, even if only for a heartbeat, refuse to fade? Why did it send a heat coiling through his chest that no reprimand, no threat, could quench?
He strode into his chambers, slamming the door behind him. The sound reverberated like a gunshot through the room. Attendants scurried out at the single sharp command of his voice, leaving him with the silence of his own thoughts and the dim glow of lanterns flickering against the polished floor.
He paced, cloak discarded across a chair, each step measured but taut with restrained energy. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. She infuriates me. She resists at every turn. Every other woman bows, whispers, clings. They tremble at my word. But she—
She spits. She scratches. She dares.
DongZe poured himself a cup of wine, the dark liquid shimmering in the lanternlight. He swallowed it in one harsh gulp. The burn slid down his throat, sharp and insistent, but it did nothing to quell the fire coiling through his veins. Not a drop could cleanse the heat she had ignited.
He clenched his jaw, the muscles tightening as if to restrain the storm within. He could still hear her voice, soft but teasing, carrying a defiance that echoed in his mind:
"Perhaps you should silence it for me."
Silence? No. That would be far too simple. My hand itched to punish her audacity, yet my mind—damned and cursed—remembers every inch of her defiance, every spark in her gaze. I will make her scream before I allow her silence to command me.
He slammed the cup to the floor with such force that porcelain shattered, scattering across the dark floorboards. The fragments glinted in the lantern light, jagged like shards of the control he thought he had.
For the first time in years, Crown Prince Yan DongZe felt something he could not command, could not contain, could not dismiss. It was not control. It was not disdain. It is hunger.
And that infuriated him more than her insolence ever could. It made the heat of her slap feel like nothing. Her audacity, her defiance, her very presence—it had stripped him bare of certainty, leaving only the raw, unrelenting pull toward her.
He rubbed the side of his cheek, jaw aching from the sting, and growled low in frustration. He had always prided himself on discipline. He had always prided himself on command.
Yet here, in the quiet of his chambers, alone with the echo of her laughter, the ghost of her touch, and the fire she had lit in him, he realized that none of it mattered. Not control, not duty, not legacy.
She had crossed a line, and he had allowed it.
And he would never forgive himself for wanting more.