Back in Hua, Shen Han received news of Lian Zhi's marriage. The moment he heard it, a sharp ache bloomed in his chest. But he knew there was nothing he could do. He had no right to protest. He, himself, had already married Lian Yue.
Still, he made a promise, mostly to himself: this is temporary. This was simply a bitter path they both had to walk before reaching their happiness. Shen Han intended to use this marriage to Lian Yue to gain power, just as his father had suggested. And one day, he would destroy the Tughril Empire and bring Lian Zhi back to his side.
Days passed after the wedding, yet the warmth between husband and wife never came.
Lian Yue played her role flawlessly before the court. Smiling like the happiest bride under heaven. She clung to Shen Han's arm during morning greetings, called him "dear husband" at banquets, and praised him whenever the Emperor was near.
But once the palace gates closed and the servants withdrew, her smile always faded.
"Why are you never here?" she asked one evening as she sat before her mirror, combing her hair. "Every night, I wake to an empty bed."
Shen Han didn't look up from his documents. "The Ministry of War is busy. I hardly have time to sleep."
"You have time to walk to Consort Ling's residence," she said softly.
His hand froze. "You have people watching me?"
"I have the right to watch my own husband," she replied, voice smooth and steady. "You never look at me, Shen Han. Not even once."
He closed the papers and stood up. "Because all I see is the Crown Princess. Not the woman I love."
Lian Yue's smile thinned. "Then maybe you should start learning who I am now." She turned her head towards him. "I'm your wife."
He turned to leave. "I'm not interested."
"Shen Han."
Her voice was quieter now. Colder. He turned just as she reached into a small chest by her dressing table. From it, she pulled out a folded parchment, its wax seal cracked with age.
"I didn't want to use this," she said. "But you leave me no choice."
He frowned. "What is that?"
"A letter," she replied, unfolding it slowly. "Written by your father. To the Chancellor of Tughril."
Shen Han's chest tightened. "You're lying."
"Am I?" Her tone was almost playful. "I suppose you'd like to see it."
She held it out. The handwriting struck him immediately. He recognised his father's strong, bold strokes. The words were sharp and treasonous, offering secret support to a foreign power in exchange for land and influence.
Shen Han's fingers trembled. "This… this cannot be real."
"You know it is," Lian Yue said gently. "That is your father's hand. The same hand that wrote every commendation you ever received."
Shen Han's jaw tightened. "You're planning to threaten me with this?"
"I'm planning to keep my husband where he belongs," she said. "By my side. You keep turning away, clinging to memories of her, that woman who is long gone. I'm tired of competing with a ghost."
Shen Han's voice darkened. "If the Emperor ever saw this letter, both you and my family would be ruined."
"Then you must make sure I never have a reason to show him."
Lian Yue folded the letter neatly and tucked it into her sleeve. "I'm not your enemy, Shen Han. I can make you powerful. Loved. But if you keep treating me like I'm invisible, I will become your worst nightmare."
Rage burned beneath his ribs. "You would use my father to control me?"
"You already belong to me," she murmured. "This just ensures you never forget it."
He stepped closer. "Do you even love me?"
Her expression faltered for the first time. "Love? I don't know. But I want you. Isn't that enough?"
He shook his head. "You confuse wanting someone with loving them."
She looked up sharply. "Maybe not for you. But for me, it's the only way to keep what's mine."
Shen Han turned away. "You won't get away with this."
"Then I'll drag you down with me," she whispered.
Her words lingered long after he left.
That night, he couldn't sleep. He sat in the study, moonlight cold on his face, the cursed letter burning in his thoughts. He wanted to believe it was forged, but he knew his father's handwriting as well as his own.
At dawn, he found himself in the training yard, sword in hand. He cut through the air with ferocity. Each swing carried frustration, betrayal, and helplessness. When he finally stopped, breath ragged, he turned and saw Lian Yue standing at the edge of the courtyard, dressed in pale blue, watching him.
"You're up early," she said softly.
"Couldn't sleep."
"Because of me?"
He didn't answer.
She stepped closer. "You look better like this. Angry. Alive."
He glared. "If you came to mock me, you've succeeded."
"No," she said. "I came to remind you that what I hold can either destroy you or protect you. The choice is yours."
Her voice was calm, deliberate. "Be the husband I need. Play your part. The Emperor already favors you. You could rise higher than any general before you. But if you continue to defy me… everything you care about will burn."
Shen Han's hand tightened around the sword hilt. For a brief moment, he imagined cutting down the smile on her face.
Instead, he let the sword drop.
"Fine," he said. "You win."
Her smile returned, satisfied. "Good. Then tonight, we will share a room, as husband and wife should."
He didn't respond.
That night, for the first time since their wedding, he entered the bridal chamber willingly. Lian Yue waited, her expression filled with victory.
He sat beside her. She lifted a hand to touch his cheek.
"See?" she whispered. "It's not so hard to be mine."
Shen Han closed his eyes and, for a fleeting moment, pretended she was someone else.
When the candles burned down to stubs, he lay awake beside her, staring at the ceiling.
He had chosen survival.
But lying there, listening to her steady breathing, all he felt was a slow, creeping sense of dying.