The lanterns of the Grand Banquet Hall glowed like amber stars, suspended from lacquered beams carved with phoenixes and dragons. The Spring Rite Gathering, held in honor of the Emperor’s birthday, was a theater of silken smiles and sharpened words. Nobles, officials, scholars, and their offspring all gathered to display elegance, loyalty—and ambition.
Xu Qingyan stood near the edge of the hall, dressed in soft blue silk embroidered with silver cranes. Her posture was graceful, her hair adorned with jade and pearls, but her mind was elsewhere. She watched the glittering crowd with the quiet gaze of someone who had already seen through most of it.
“Do you see Minister Wang’s daughter?” whispered a noblewoman nearby. “Already positioning herself near Lord Jin.”
“And Xu Qingyan?” another voice murmured. “So poised. A beauty, yes—but too clever, I’ve heard. Perhaps not a wife men can control.”
Qingyan smiled faintly to herself. Their whispers barely stirred her. She had learned long ago that in a room like this, to be underestimated was often more useful than being admired.
Then the chamber shifted—just subtly. A murmur passed through the crowd.
She followed the glances and saw him.
Jin Zhenyu.
He entered alone, dressed in deep charcoal robes with no family crest, no entourage. There was nothing overtly noble in his appearance, yet nobles and military men alike stepped aside as he passed. They didn’t greet him. They didn’t mock him either.
They weren’t sure how to treat him.
“He’s the Prime Minister’s bastard, isn’t he?” someone whispered near Qingyan. “They say he served on the northern border for six years… barely sixteen when he was sent out.”
“And they say he killed a rebel commander with a single strike.”
“He shouldn’t even be here,” someone scoffed.
And yet he was.
Qingyan watched him take a place near the lower seats—not with the heirs of noble houses, nor with the guards. Somewhere in between.
She took her cup of plum wine and crossed the floor.
He saw her coming but said nothing. Only his eyes shifted, watching.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, standing beside him without asking permission.
“I could say the same.”
“You belong here more than most of them,” she said lightly, sipping her wine. “At least you’ve done something.”
He glanced at her, one brow raised. “Flattery? I thought you above that.”
“I don’t flatter,” she replied. “I observe.”
Their gazes held for a beat too long.
From across the hall, Jin Yuanzhao, the Prime Minister’s legitimate son, watched them with narrowed eyes. Regal in golden robes, he laughed with his companions, but his smile was forced. He raised his cup, loudly.
“To the Emperor’s loyal sons! And to those… who remember their place.”
Some laughed. Others looked away.
Jin Zhenyu said nothing.
Xu Qingyan placed her cup down and leaned in slightly. “It seems your brother doesn’t like competition.”
Zhenyu’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “He doesn’t like shadows that move.”
“And yet, shadows are the only things that survive when light fades.”
He looked at her then—really looked. There was something in her expression: cleverness, courage, maybe even… defiance.
“You should leave me alone,” he said. “There’s nothing to gain from standing too close to a stain.”
She tilted her head. “And yet here I am.”
Before he could reply, the court musicians began their next piece, and the Emperor’s inner court arrived, drawing all attention toward the raised dais. Qingyan stepped back, her presence like the brush of silk on his sleeve—brief, but lingering.
As she rejoined her father’s side, Jin Zhenyu returned to his seat, silent and still.
But something had changed.
For the second time, she had spoken to him without fear.
And for the first time in years, he realized that someone wasn’t trying to use his name for humiliation… but see past it.
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End of Chapter Two
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