The dignitary banquet pressed on, the air rich with wine and murmured laughter. The dancers' performance had been brief—yet it lingered, a shimmer of beauty that refused to fade.
Before the last note even died away, the King of Hán rose to his feet, his applause sharp and resounding. One by one, the other kings followed, their hands joining in a tide of echoing praise that filled the vast golden hall.
The queen's eyes glimmered with intrigue — she was certain these were Li Fuyao's girls.
The King of Hán lifted his cup, a cheerful grin stretching across his lips.
"I never thought I'd enjoy myself this much tonight, but truly... this is marvelous," he declared, his voice echoing warmly through the grand hall.
Laughter rippled across the tables — soft at first, then swelling like a wave. The dancers, having finished their mesmerizing act, turned in unison, bowing low before gliding toward the exit. Their silk sleeves trailed behind them like whispers of gold and crimson.
But then—
"Hey... girl," King Hán Wáng Ān called out suddenly, his tone casual yet commanding.
The dancers froze mid-step. Slowly, they turned back, bowing with grace and discipline.
"You performed beautifully," he said, his gaze narrowing with a curious spark.
"But tell me... why did she not reveal her face?" He lifted a finger, gesturing toward the one in the center — the dancer in the golden mask.
The unmasked girls shared faint, knowing smiles. But the masked one did not move. She stood perfectly still — poised, silent, her presence more captivating than any performance.
That quiet defiance caught the king's attention. His playful curiosity deepened into something sharper. He leaned back slightly, eyes glinting beneath the flicker of the lantern light.
King Tiān Lóngxuān turned to his wife. The queen was already watching him, a faint, knowing smile curving her lips — her eyes shimmering with amusement and something unreadable.
"Huhn," King Hán Wáng Ān chuckled, breaking the silence.
"I'm just curious to see who's behind that mask." His tone was light, teasing, but his gaze didn't waver.
The hall fell into a hush — nobles exchanged glances, waiting.
Then the queen finally spoke, her voice smooth as silk.
"Dear young king," she said, raising her golden cup, the wine catching the light like liquid fire.
King Hán Wáng Ān turned toward her, intrigued.
"Are you truly curious?" She asked, her words laced with quiet mischief.
He grinned broadly.
"Yes, my queen. I am single... and in need of a beautiful queen. Help me, Your Highness."
The room erupted in laughter — nobles chuckling, courtiers whispering behind their fans. The queen only smiled, her gaze lingering on him as she took a slow, deliberate sip of wine — the faint glint in her eyes hinting that she already knew more than she would ever say aloud.
She set her cup down deliberately. The sound was soft, yet it carried through the vast hall like the strike of a bell.
King Tiān Lóngxuān said nothing — his gaze lingered on his wife, quiet and watchful, the faintest curve of intrigue hidden beneath his calm.
Then, her voice rose — smooth, regal, and commanding.
"Mò Lián."
The name echoed through the grand hall like a spark thrown into silence.
The Crown Prince, who had been teasing Yù Xuān only moments before, froze. His laughter died mid-breath. His gaze snapped toward the center of the hall, toward the line of dancers who stood perfectly still, their silks trembling faintly in the torchlight.
The masked girl — the one whose name had just been called — stepped forward. Slowly, she bowed, the golden ornaments swaying gently with the movement.
"Remove it." The queen's tone was laced with quiet pride, knowing what her command would reveal.
Mò Lián hesitated for only a moment before reaching up. Her fingers brushed the ribbon at her nape; she untied it. The air was still — every noble, every soldier, every servant holding their breath.
She lifted the mask away.
It slipped from her hand and fell, the faint clink of it striking marble, cutting through the silence.
The Crown Prince's heart lurched. He almost rose, every instinct screaming to go to her — to see her up close, to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. But then, a calm voice echoed faintly in his mind — General Yán Lǐng.
"Wait. Watch the scene unfold."
Tiān Jùn's jaw tensed. He drew a slow breath, leaning back again.
"Send a signal to our men," he murmured under his breath.
"Track every movement."
Yù Xuān saw how the crown prince's mood changed, and she turned to the performance stage. A deep smile appeared on her lips as her gaze fell on Mò Lián.
Across the hall, King Hán Wáng Ān's jaw hung slightly open, amusement flashing in his eyes.
"Hmh... isn't this the lady from the chariot?" he muttered, biting the edge of his finger thoughtfully as his gaze lingered on Mò Lián's face.
The queen spun toward him; her smile sharp as a blade.
"Have you seen enough, young king?" she said coolly, her tone sweetly mocking.
"The banquet awaits."
Mò Lián kept her eyes low, her expression fragile — a nervous, fleeting smile flickering across her lips. The dancer beside her whispered;
"Should we go now?"
"Wait," another murmured.
"Her Majesty hasn't dismissed us yet."
King Hán Wáng Ān exhaled, letting out a lazy chuckle.
"My queen, you've done me a favor tonight," he said, raising his cup.
"I owe you one."
But his eyes remained on Mò Lián — sharp, curious, burning with something he couldn't quite name.
The queen didn't even glance his way.
After a final bow, Mò Lián and the dancers turned and left the stage — their robes sweeping softly across the marble, like waves retreating from the shore.
The banquet resumed. Music rose again, and from the far entrance, the palace chef entered with a troop of maids bearing silver trays high above their shoulders, each step in perfect harmony.
The dancers disappeared beyond the grand doors.
The kitchen chief kowtowed when she reached the middle of the grand hall, her forehead nearly brushing the marble floor as she faced the royal throne.
Then she rose, her face bright with a practiced smile.
"May Your Highness live forever," she declared, bowing again before straightening up.
"I prepared a new flavoured cookie. Your Majesty, have a taste."
She held out a silver plate with trembling hands and walked toward the eunuch standing beside the throne stairs. The eunuch received it reverently and offered it to the king, bowing low.
King Tiān Lóngxuān took a piece, tasting it with slow consideration. A smile touched his lips, and he nodded approvingly. The maid bowed deeply in gratitude.
"Distinguish it for my guest," the king said, turning his gaze toward King Hán Wáng Ān, who was already watching with amused curiosity.
"Let the young king have a taste of Huǒyuán's flavor."
King Hán Wáng Ān chuckled lightly.
"Of course, my lord. Your land is full of delicious things—I must taste at least one fresh delight," he replied, though his words carried a double meaning far beyond sweets.
King Tiān Lóngxuān lifted the plate once more, his voice calm yet commanding.
"Here, have mine. You deserve better," he said, handing it to the eunuch again.
As the eunuch bent forward to receive it, the king leaned slightly and whispered, "Make it interesting."
The eunuch's eyes flickered briefly—he understood.
Bowing low, he turned and presented the plate to King Hán Wáng Ān's personal soldier, who then placed it before the foreign king.
"Thank you, my lord. You truly know how to treat your guests," Hán Wáng Ān said, taking a piece of the cookie. He bit into it, savoring the sweet flavor as he wagged his head in delight.
"Delicious," he declared.
Laughter rippled across the table. The queen turned to her husband, her eyes narrowing in quiet amusement.
I know what you just did.
Her gaze seemed to say. A faint, knowing smile touched her lips.
"Share it with all," the eunuch commanded, and the kitchen chief bowed before turning toward the waiting line of maids. She raised her arms gracefully—a silent signal.
The maids moved in unison, like petals in a gentle breeze, setting silver trays on each table with utmost care before gliding away to fetch another round.
The hall shimmered with laughter, whispers, and the soft clinking of plates—a fragile calm before the next ripple of intrigue.
The crown prince could no longer restrain himself. In a blur of light, he vanished from his seat.
A harsh gust swept past Yù Xuān—she almost fell backward. Shivering, she looked around.
"What was that? What's going on?" she whispered, startled.
Wēi Wēi quickly caught her wrist.
"Don't make it obvious," he murmured under his breath.
"Get used to royal behavior."
She hesitated, then quietly sat back down, turning just enough to see the general sipping his drink calmly. He met her gaze and gave a knowing smirk.
Outside the hall, the crown prince materialized beneath the moonlight. His cloak billowed in the cold air, his eyes burning with purpose. He could feel her — that familiar pull, soft yet unrelenting—Mò Lián.
He moved swiftly, following a faint scent of hers. The night air carried the faint fragrance of peach blossoms. Lanterns hung from the trees, glowing like captured stars. Then he heard her voice—sharp but tender.
"How have you been doing? I missed you."
Butterflies stirred in his chest. His lips curved into a faint smile as he followed the sound. Between the trees, he saw her—Mò Lián—standing with another girl. They were talking and laughing softly, their hands intertwined like sisters long separated.
"How did you come back? I thought it was impossible," the other girl whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief.
"I promised you I would return," Mò Lián replied, drawing her into an embrace.
The two held each other tightly before Mò Lián gently cupped the girl's face.
"Huā Yuán..." she whispered.
Huā Yuán looked up at her like a child who had found the sun again.
"Did you have an awful experience at the maid lodge? Tell me," Mò Lián asked, her fingers lifting the girl's chin tenderly.
But Huā Yuán suddenly froze. Her gaze shifted — sharp, uneasy. She felt it.
Someone was watching.
"Mò Lián..." Huā Yuán stammered, her voice trembling.
Mò Lián froze.
"Are you leaving again?" Huā Yuán asked quietly.
"I'm not going now, but—" Mò Lián stopped. Huā Yuán's eyes were no longer on her; they were looking past her shoulder.
She turned—and saw him—the Crown Prince.
"Jùn?" Her voice faltered.
She immediately grasped Huā Yuán's hands, trying to pull her away, but before she could move, he caught her by the wrist.
She struggled, trying to break free, but his strength anchored her in place. His palm dwarfed her slender wrist. Her heart pounded.
"Let go," she whispered.
Huā Yuán's eyes widen. "Mò Lián, are you really leaving again?" Her voice was full of the same loneliness.
"No, Huā Yuán, I won't leave you," Mò Lián said, turning back to him, still struggling against his hold.
"Was he the one who made you cry?"
Huā Yuán asked suddenly. The words struck him like a blade. He froze, guilt sweeping through him. Slowly, he loosened his grip and stepped back.
Mò Lián managed a small, pained smile as tears gathered in her eyes.
"Let's go; I'll take you back to your lodge," she mumbled.
The two girls walked away hand in hand, disappearing under the lantern glow.
The crown prince stood still, regret clouding his spirit.
"I could have told you who I was... Now she'll think I'm a liar."
His voice was low, aching. Then, with a sigh, he dissolved into the air, reappearing in his chamber.
Huā Yuán noticed the sudden heaviness in Mò Lián's steps. She stopped walking.
"What's wrong?" Mò Lián asked gently, turning to face her.
"Who was he?" Huā Yuán asked, searching her eyes.
"I'll tell you later," Mò Lián whispered.
"Let's go." She turned away, but Huā Yuán didn't move.
"Are you hiding something from me?" Huā Yuán's voice was soft, but firm.
"He lied to me." Mò Lián's tone broke as sadness overtook her face.
Huā Yuán pulled her close and wrapped her arms around her.
"It's okay," she whispered.
"You can still make things right." She ran her fingers gently through Mò Lián's hair as the two stood there beneath the peach blossoms.
At the king's hall, the banquet still pulsed with life. Some officials had already left; others were too drunk to move, while a few stayed, eager to see the end of the celebration.
The imperial family soon grew weary of the endless chatter and performances. One by one, they rose from their seats and departed, leaving the general to oversee the remainder of the event. The eunuchs trailed behind the king, following him out of the hall.
The grand hall still glimmered with light, laughter, and the clinking of cups. Yet beneath the noise, a quiet restlessness began to stir. Some of the young foreign princes began taking their leave as well, slipping out through the wide-open gates guarded by tired soldiers. Among them was Prince Lee from the neighboring kingdom.
"It was truly a night well spent," he remarked as he adjusted his robe.
"I had hoped to speak with the Crown Prince, but I'm uncertain how to approach him."
The other prince, walking beside him, gave a light chuckle.
"It seems you weren't officially invited, were you?"
Prince Lee smiled faintly, his expression thoughtful. "You're right—I wasn't. It took quite a struggle to enter the capital. I had to join the civilian queue to obtain a verification identity plate."
He paused, glancing back at the glittering hall fading into the distance.
"But it was worth it," he added softly, as though speaking to himself.
"I heard the military general is very close to the Crown Prince," the other prince said, his tone dropping.
He paused, exchanging glances with his companion.
"But... he's dangerous. Some tales say he can read minds; others claim his presence alone is enough to bend people's will. They say he can emit strange forces without anyone realizing him."
He leaned closer.
"The royals of this kingdom are all-powerful—they each manifest different kinds of magic. If you have any dark intentions toward them, be careful. You won't get a first chance. Here in Huǒyuán, killing a foreigner isn't a crime. Every citizen is considered precious... even their prostitutes."
He finished with a mocking laugh.
"I'll be careful," Prince Lee said quietly, his eyes narrowing as he noticed a figure approaching.
The man walked with an air of command, his steps deliberate, his gaze sharp.
Just ahead, King Hán Wáng Ān stumbled forward, half-supported by his personal soldier. The young foreign king was clearly drunk, his eyes hazy, his smile unsteady.
"Get me a fresh prostitute to warm my chamber," he muttered, swaying as he tried to steady himself. "Now...!"
"My lord, you'll have to endure for the night," the soldier whispered urgently.
"Why?" the king snapped, turning with an impatient glare.
"It's the law, my lord. Prostitutes and brothels aren't allowed within the imperial district. You can find one outside, but—"
Before he could finish, the king's palm cracked sharply across his face. The soldier dropped to his knees immediately, head bowed in apology.
"You dare...! Tell me what I can or cannot do?" King Hán Wáng Ān growled, his voice loud enough to draw attention.
"Are you becoming useless to me?"
At that moment, General Yán Lǐng passed nearby, silent and unreadable, not even glancing in their direction.
A maid, hurrying with her head bowed, accidentally brushed against the drunken king's robe.
King Hán Wáng Ān turned sharply, rage flashing across his face. He raised his hand to strike her—
—but the general stopped, turning just enough for his presence to fall upon them like a warning.
The maid instantly dropped to her knees.
"Please forgive me, my lord," she said, her voice trembling.
When she lifted her face, the torchlight revealed her—it was Yù Xuān.
The young king froze, his hand still in the air. Then, slowly, a smirk curved his lips.
"I'm sorry, my lord... please forgive me," Yù Xuān whispered again, nearly in tears.
"Rise, my dear," he said smoothly, taking her by the arm and lifting her. Around them, the flow of the hall continued, but a few heads turned briefly before looking away.
The general's gaze lingered a moment longer, unreadable, before he turned and walked on.
The general's gaze narrowed, sharp as a blade. He began to approach them, each step deliberate and heavy with command.
Prince Lee froze where he stood as General Yán Lǐng passed by, his presence radiating quiet power. The prince's breath hitched—he quickly adjusted his posture, pretending calm, though his heart raced.
King Hán Wáng Ān still held Yù Xuān close. The girl stood frozen, unsure whether to kneel or flee.
"I forgive you, my beautiful lady," the young king said with a crooked smile.
"How about you do me a favor?"
His hand drifted lower, reaching for her waist—
—but an icy presence stopped him.
A figure stood beside him, silent yet commanding. The young king turned his head slowly—and met General Yán Lǐng's gaze.
Those eyes were steady, piercing, unflinching.
The king's smirk faded. He froze under the weight of that stare, his arrogance shrinking into unease.
Wordlessly, he released Yù Xuān. She stumbled, almost falling—but the general's hand caught her by the waist, pulling her upright with effortless strength.
He did not look at her. His gaze never left the king.
The silence between them grew heavy, almost suffocating.
For the first time, King Hán Wáng Ān felt a strange chill crawl up his spine—an emotion foreign to him. Fear.
His personal soldier, sensing danger, stepped forward quickly and bowed.
"My lord," he said carefully, "the banquet will soon end. Shall we take our leave?"
The young king said nothing. His throat felt tight, his pride caged beneath the general's unspoken dominance.
General Yán Lǐng's expression didn't change. Only his grip loosened a bit; he let her stand firm.
General Yán Lǐng left the hall with Yù Xuān at his side. His hand was still firm around her slender waist as they passed through the great gate.
The maids outside froze, their eyes widening in disbelief.
"Is that... General Yán Lǐng?" one whispered, her voice trembling.
He said nothing. His gaze stayed fixed on the path leading out of the king's palace, his jaw tense beneath the torchlight.
"Ouch..." Yù Xuān gasped suddenly, her body tensing as a sharp pain twisted through her lower abdomen.
Yán Lǐng stopped immediately. His head turned slightly, his expression calm, but his eyes searching hers.
She met his gaze, biting her lip as the pain returned—worse this time. Her knees weakened. She clutched her stomach with one trembling hand, the other fisting into the fabric of his robe. Her body leaned forward, collapsing softly against his chest.
"Are you okay?" His tone softened, almost gentle now.
She breathed unevenly, her fingers tightening in his robe as if holding on to his voice. Her strength was fading; her body sank lower.
He caught her before she could fall. The moment his palm touched her skin, he felt the heat burning through her. His heartbeat quickened—too fast for someone known for his composure.
Without another word, he swept her into his arms. His cloak shifted, hiding her from the curious eyes watching from afar.
Just then, footsteps approached. He spun sharply—his eyes met the chief maid.
She bowed at once, lowering her gaze.
"Meet me in my chamber," he ordered quietly, his voice like steel.
Before she could answer, he vanished with Yù Xuān in his arms.
The chief maid stood frozen for a heartbeat, her mind spinning.
"Who is that girl?" she whispered to herself.
She turned quickly, signaling her assistant to continue cleaning the hall before hurrying after them, her heart pounding with curiosity and unease.
At Li Fuyao's quarters
The air was soft with a faint scent of sandalwood.
Mò Lián and Huā Yuán sat on a low fence outside the dance rehearsal room, their laughter drifting through the quiet courtyard like wind chimes.
Huā Yuán was telling her story — how she'd managed to escape Lady Li Fuyao's sharp eyes earlier that evening.
"She had me trailing her at the queen's quarters," Huā Yuán said, her voice playful.
"But I told her I needed to join the maids at the king's palace — and ran off before she could question me."
Mò Lián giggled, swinging her feet.
"And she believed that?"
"Of course she did." Huā Yuán smirked proudly. "She's been my mistress for years — I've learned how to dodge unnecessary formality."
Mò Lián gave her a funny look, and they both broke into laughter.
"The queen's palace is no place for me," Huā Yuán went on dramatically.
"The rules are endless — bow here, greet there, smile when you don't want to. I'd rather stay where people fear my sharp tongue and respect my title!"
Mò Lián bent over laughing.
"You're right! And the funniest part is, you can't even tell who's who in there. Everyone's dressed like a queen!"
They said the last part together, bursting into uncontrollable laughter. Mò Lián rolled off the fence, clutching her stomach, while Huā Yuán stood and started reenacting how she greeted every passerby, bowing again and again.
"Stop it, Huā Yuán!" Mò Lián gasped between laughs.
"You'll make me choke!"
Huā Yuán kept bowing with exaggerated grace, laughing just as hard.
"Do you know the worst part?" she said, barely catching her breath.
Mò Lián straightened up, wiping tears from her eyes.
"What?"
"I gave so many royal greetings to the palace maids that when the real queen walked by... I had none left to give."
There was a stunned silence — then Mò Lián shrieked with laughter.
"You mean you didn't greet the queen?!"
Huā Yuán nodded proudly.
"Not even a nod."
"Oh, my dear heavens..." Mò Lián wheezed, collapsing against the fence again.
"You're going to get us both killed one day!"
Their laughter echoed into the evening sky, soft and bright — two ladies finding joy in a palace where laughter was often impossible.
Huā Yuán leaned back, smiling lazily.
"I prefer this quarter," she said, glancing around. "It's close to the sea, quiet, and the air doesn't smell like perfume and politics. Not like the queen's quarter, where even the soldiers act like maids."
Mò Lián chuckled softly.
"The worst," Huā Yuán added, waving her hand, "is the prince's and the king's quarters."
Mò Lián tilted her head, intrigued.
"At the prince's quarters, only high-ranking soldiers are allowed. He rarely needs maids — and his personal servant is said to be a military general."
The smile slowly faded from Mò Lián's face.
"And the king's mansion?" Huā Yuán lowered her voice.
"It's worse. His Highness's attendants are mostly eunuchs and elite messengers. Doesn't that sound... sinister and even weird?"
Mò Lián's eyes widened.
"My aunt used to tell me stories about the palace — I thought she made them up!"
Huā Yuán chuckled.
"She was right about one thing: power governs everything here. No one survives without it."
Mò Lián fell quiet for a moment, her gaze drifting to the moon. Her mind flickered briefly to Jùn.
"Have you ever seen the crown prince?" She asked, her voice almost a whisper.
Huā Yuán lifted her eyes to the sky.
"Everything about the prince is a secret until his coronation."
"Really? I thought those were just rumors," Mò Lián said, leaning closer.
"No one knows his true face," Huā Yuán explained. "Until the day of his coronation, the prince wears a veil of magic. They say every royal of Huǒyuán is born with a poisonous scent that seeps through their eyes — a mark of their power. Only during the coronation is that poison lifted."
Mò Lián blinked, wide-eyed.
"That sounds terrifying. So... how does he even speak to his mother?"
Huā Yuán smirked.
"In most cases, princes don't grow under their mothers' care. Our king is an example — he was raised in the Immortal Realm. He had to master his cultivation before he could return to the mortal land."
"And the crown prince?" Mò Lián asked quickly.
Huā Yuán's tone softened, almost reverent.
"He was born and raised here in the mortal world, but they say his power is wild — uncontrollable. During the Land Festival, the king revealed himself to the people for the first time. I wasn't there, but... I've always wondered if he's even human."
Mò Lián turned toward her, curiosity burning in her eyes.
"Two different worlds... but how do you know all this?"
Huā Yuán gave a small, proud smirk.
"I read a lot."
Huā Yuán's smile faded as her thoughts drifted back to the man she'd seen earlier—the one who had held Mò Lián's wrist so firmly.
"Who is he?" she asked quietly, inching closer.
Mò Lián adjusted a little.
"Who?"
Huā Yuán narrowed her gaze.
"Mò Lián, don't play dumb. The man from the peach garden—the one who grabbed your wrist. It was obvious you two shared something... more."
"There's nothing between us," Mò Lián declared, sitting up straighter. Her tone was calm, but her fingers fidgeted.
She knew Huā Yuán wouldn't let it go.
"I met him back in my hometown. My day was gloomy, and he—he was different. Friendly. We talked for a while, and..." She paused, her eyes drifting away.
"So? What happened?" Huā Yuán pressed, leaning closer.
"We became friends after I moved to my father's house. He visited. I thought what we had was simple—just friendship. However, he never mentioned where he came from. He said He was from the capital."
Her voice trembled slightly.
"We had wonderful memories, truly... but he lied to me. And my father always said, 'A liar can do worse than the lie itself.' Now I believe him."
Huā Yuán watched her quietly for a moment, then burst into a soft laugh, shaking her head.
"Mò Lián, you're too harsh. Maybe he had a reason. Maybe you weren't ready to hear the truth... or maybe, he was afraid of losing you if you did."
Mò Lián looked away, the moonlight catching the sadness in her eyes.