"Presenting the Supreme General Xie Yan... and his Imperial Consort, Wen Yu!"
The grand, echoing announcement bounced off the high vaulted ceilings of the imperial banqueting hall, instantly plunging the massive chamber into a heavy, suffocating silence. Hundreds of heads turned in unison, their jewel-encrusted hairpins glinting under the warm light of a thousand overhead oil lamps as every aristocratic eye locked onto the grand entrance.
Wen Yu felt the collective weight of those calculating stares press against his chest like an anvil, but he maintained his trembling, wide-eyed mask, clutching Xie Yan’s midnight-blue sleeve as if it were the only tether keeping him from being swept away by the tide.
[Oh, fantastic, the entire hall stopped eating just to glare at us,] Wen Yu screamed internally, his mind racing like a runaway train on an unmaintained track. [Look at the Imperial Consort up on that high platform! She’s wearing enough gold leaf on her head to single-handedly fund a mid-sized municipal transit project, and her smile looks like an insurance policy disclaimer written in fine print! If she thinks I’m going to trip over my trailing silk hem on these slippery marble tiles, she’s dead wrong! I’ve navigated slushy subway stations in five-inch platform boots; this three-yard train is nothing!]
Standing directly beside him, Xie Yan felt the corners of his mouth twitching against his absolute will. The deafening, poisonous mental static from the surrounding nobles was instantly drowned out by the hilarious, chaotic roar of his husband’s internal narrative, grounding the general faster than a heavy anchor dropping into deep water.
Xie Yan kept his hand firmly anchored at Wen Yu’s waist, guiding him down the wide central aisle toward their designated low floor-tables near the front of the pavilion. Every step they took was met with hushed, frantic whispers fluttering behind embroidered silk fans.
"He walks so timidly," muttered a young marchioness seated three rows back, her tone laced with patronizing pity. "Look at how tightly he clings to General Xie. Poor thing looks like he’s about to break out in tears from the sheer pressure of being in the same room as true royalty."
"It’s almost tragic," her companion whispered back, taking a delicate sip from her silver wine chalice. "To go from mopping flagstones to standing before the imperial court... the gap in breeding is simply too wide to bridge with expensive plum-colored silk."
Wen Yu lowered his head, letting a fragile, pitiful tremor run through his shoulders while biting his lower lip to complete the picture of a helpless, terrified provincial spouse.
[Keep talking, you background extras!] Wen Yu chanted happily inside his head, doing a mental victory lap as he surveyed the lavish spread on the nearby service tables. [Your dialogue reads like a rough first draft from a free-serial webnovel, and your fashion choices are giving budget historical drama! While you’re sitting there judging my posture, I’m mentally cataloging every single course on that menu! They have roasted duck, spiced crab cakes, and those high-end glazed walnuts that cost a small fortune in the provincial markets! I’m going to eat my entire wedding weight in gourmet appetizers tonight, and there is nothing your petty aristocrat union can do to stop me!]
Xie Yan took his seat at the heavy rosewood table, sweeping his dark silk robes back before reaching out to gently assist Wen Yu down onto his embroidered silk cushion. The general’s large, warm fingers lingered against Wen Yu’s wrist for a second longer than strictly necessary, his thumb brushing over the soft skin where the younger boy’s pulse fluttered—fast, but completely steady with chaotic adrenaline rather than actual fear.
"Are you quite comfortable, Consort Wen?" Xie Yan asked quietly, leaning in so close that his low, rumbling voice brushed against the shell of Wen Yu’s ear, effectively cutting off the prying eyes of the neighboring tables. "The seat cushions are stuffed with soft goose down, but if the draft from the courtyard is too cold, I can have the attendants bring a warm mink mantle."
"I... I am deeply grateful for your endless consideration, General," Wen Yu stammered out softly, pitching his voice into a breathy, timid register while keeping his eyes demurely cast down toward his empty plate. "This humble one is merely... overwhelmed by the staggering magnificence of the imperial court. I am terrified that I might make a mistake and bring dishonor upon your legendary name."
[Oh, please, the only thing drafty in here is Lord Gu’s open mouth,] Wen Yu added in his unhinged internal broadcast, casting a sharp, hidden glance toward the neighboring table where the young noble was still smugly sipping his plum wine. [The guy is staring at me like he just set a trap and is waiting for me to step into it! He’s definitely going to push for that zither performance the second the Imperial Consort finishes her opening speech! Little does he know, I spent my entire freelance editorial budget last year taking specialized traditional instrument classes just to relieve stress from dealing with difficult authors! I am going to play a piece so intense his silk tea-cozy hat is going to fly right off his head!]
Xie Yan picked up his bronze wine goblet, hiding the low, rich laugh that threatened to burst from his throat by taking a slow sip of the spicy northern vintage. The general leaned back against his backrest, his dark eyes sparkling with a lethal, intoxicating mixture of intense pride and wicked anticipation.
"Do not worry about dishonor, Wen Yu," Xie Yan murmured smoothly, his gaze locking onto his husband’s flushed, innocently bowed head. "If anyone in this hall dares to question your place beside me, they will find that my patience for court games is remarkably short tonight."
Before Wen Yu could offer another timid, fluttering response, a loud, clear chime echoed from the raised dais at the front of the hall. The Imperial Consort stood up, her sweeping crimson phoenix robes fluttering around her like flames as she raised her golden goblet toward the silent room.
"Tonight, we gather under the full moon to celebrate the prosperity of our empire and the brave warriors who defend our borders," the Imperial Consort announced, her tone sharp, melodic, and dripping with hidden political menace. "And of course, we extend our warmest welcome to the newest addition to our inner court—the young spouse of our Supreme General. We have heard so many... fascinating rumors regarding Consort Wen’s unique background and unexpected talents."
She turned her cold, glittering gaze directly toward Wen Yu’s table, offering a thin, razor-sharp smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
"Since the moon is high and our hearts are joyous," the Imperial Consort continued, her voice carrying effortlessly across the silent hall, "it is only fitting that Consort Wen honors us with a musical performance to demonstrate the... refined harmony of the general’s new household. Guards, bring forth the imperial jade zither."
A low, collective murmur of excitement rippled through the banqueting hall as four palace attendants hurried forward, carrying a massive, beautifully carved zither strung with shimmering silk cords and setting it down on the central performance stage.
Lord Gu smirked openly from his table, leaning back with a look of pure, malicious triumph, fully expecting the provincial maid to burst into tears or beg for mercy.
Wen Yu let out a soft, terrified gasp, clutching Xie Yan’s sleeve with trembling, helpless fingers. "Oh... oh dear... the Imperial Consort herself?" he whispered, looking up at Xie Yan with wide, shimmering eyes that practically screamed for rescue. "I... I don’t know if my humble hands are worthy of touching such a precious imperial instrument..."
[Finally!] Wen Yu roared inside his head, his internal persona dropping the timid servant act entirely and metaphorically cracking its knuckles with pure, chaotic glee. [It’s showtime, baby! Step aside, classical snobs! The modern webnovel editor is about to drop the absolute hottest instrumental track this dynasty has ever heard!]
Xie Yan rested his hand over Wen Yu’s trembling fingers, his thumb giving them a firm, reassuring squeeze as a slow, devastating smirk curved his lips.
"Go on then, Consort Wen," Xie Yan whispered, his voice laced with absolute, unwavering trust. "Show them how a general’s spouse handles the imperial court."