Chapter 3: Plannings already??

At the palace, the golden morning light filtered through the tall lattice windows of the throne room, casting intricate patterns across the polished marble floor. Incense curled lazily toward the high ceiling, carrying the faint scent of sandalwood and jasmine.

On the Dragon Throne sat the Emperor of the Zhi Dynasty, his gaze sharp and commanding. His voice rang out, cutting through the quiet murmur of the court:

“Spread my word,” he said. “General Zhang Zhengyu, the heir of my left-hand man, has returned victorious. A banquet shall be held for his glory.”

The courtiers and officials bowed in unison, their voices echoing together, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Then, with a gesture of his hand, the Emperor summoned two particular men forward.

Chen Haotian — tall, composed, and the loyal right-hand man of the Emperor — stepped forward with practiced grace. Beside him came Zhang Xuanwei, Zhengyu’s father and the Emperor’s left-hand man, a figure of equal stature and prestige.

“I have long trusted both of you,” the Emperor began, his gaze shifting between them. “In war and in peace, you have stood by me. The time has come to bind our houses closer — not merely as comrades, but as family.”

The two men exchanged quick glances. They had known each other for years, yet the Emperor’s tone hinted at something deeper.

“I intend,” the Emperor continued, “for General Zhengyu to take Lady Chen Fengying as his wife.”

The words fell into the air with the weight of imperial decree.

Both fathers broke into smiles, bowing low in acceptance. “It would be an honor, Your Majesty.”

The Emperor nodded, satisfied. “It shall be announced at the banquet — Zhengyu has come of age to marry. And while we bind one pair, we may as well bind another.”

His eyes glinted with quiet amusement as he added, “The younger son of the Zhang family, Zhang Zihan, shall be betrothed to Lady Chen Qiaolin.”

A hum of approval rippled through the hall.

—––

That afternoon, the news traveled quickly to both estates.

At the Chen residence, Chen Haotian called his daughters to the main hall. Fengying arrived first, her sword still at her side, while Qiaolin practically skipped in, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“Fengying. Qiaolin.” Their father’s voice held unusual cheer. “His Majesty has spoken. You, Fengying, will marry General Zhang Zhengyu.”

Fengying froze mid-step. “...What?”

“And Qiaolin,” he continued, undeterred, “you will be wed to Zhang Zihan.”

Qiaolin gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “Truly?” She was practically glowing.

Fengying’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And if I refuse?”

From the side, their mother, Chen Mingxia, glided into the room, her elegant silk sleeves brushing the floor. She had heard everything.

“Fengying,” her voice was smooth but firm, “do not even think about causing trouble on the wedding day.”

Her daughter blinked, caught off guard. “...I didn’t say—”

“You didn’t have to,” Mingxia interrupted with a knowing smile. “I can read your thoughts as easily as I read the weather. Your father and I are happy. Do not cause any scandal during this joyful moment.”

Fengying exhaled slowly, schooling her expression into something resembling obedience, though a flicker of rebellion still danced in her eyes.

Meanwhile, Qiaolin was still floating in her own world, imagining the moment she’d stand beside Zihan. “I can’t believe it… It’s like a dream.”

—––

Across the city, in the Zhang estate, a very different reaction was unfolding.

Zhang Zihan was in the garden when his father found him. The moment the words left Xuanwei’s lips, Zihan’s entire face lit up.

“Lady Qiaolin?” he said, grinning. “Truly father?”

“Yes,” his father replied, chuckling at his son’s unhidden joy.

In the tea pavilion nearby, Zhang Zhengyu was enjoying a quiet moment after returning from the long campaign. He had just lifted his teacup when his father walked over.

“Oh, and Zhengyu,” Xuanwei said as if it were casual news, “you’ll be marrying Chen Fengying.”

The words hit harder than an enemy’s sword. Zhengyu choked mid-sip, coughing violently until the tea splattered onto the table.

“...I’ll be what?” His voice was sharp, his usually calm eyes narrowing.

“You heard me,” his father replied, entirely unfazed.

From the main hall, a delighted voice chimed in, Zhang Zhiqing, his mother, appearing in her finest brocade robes. “Ah, how wonderful! I’ve always wanted a daughter-in-laws, and Lady Fengying and Qiaolin will be perfect!”

Zhengyu set his cup down with deliberate care, his jaw tightening. “Mother—”

But she was already smiling like the spring sun, clearly imagining wedding robes and banquet halls.

For Zhengyu, the battlefield had been simpler.

---

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***