The air inside the general’s private study was thick with the scent of aged ink, sandalwood, and the subtle, sharp tang of wintergreen tea.
Wen Yu sat on the edge of a heavy rosewood chair, his fingers neatly folded over the dark plum silk of his lap. Across the wide, map-strewn desk, Xie Yan leaned back in his tall commander’s chair, his dark eyes studying Wen Yu with an intensity that could melt iron.
"The imperial inspectors are merely the opening act," Xie Yan began, his deep voice cutting through the heavy silence of the room as he tapped a leather-bound scroll against the desk. "Tomorrow, when the capital realizes the union has been officially registered, the real vultures will descend. High-society salons, aristocratic dowagers, and ambitious marquises who have spent years trying to wedge their daughters into my household will come knocking."
Wen Yu lowered his gaze, pasting on a trembling, fragile expression while letting out a soft, nervous sigh. "I understand, General," he said, pitching his voice into a breathy, submissive register. "I am just a humble servant from the outer provinces... I would only be a burden when facing such formidable noble ladies. Perhaps... perhaps it would be safer if I remained locked in the inner quarters?"
"Hide?" Xie Yan raised a dark eyebrow, a faint, dangerous amusement flickering in his gaze. "And let them claim that the Supreme General keeps a whimpering prisoner locked away in a tower? That would only invite more aggressive interference from the Ministry of Rites."
[Hide? Please, are you kidding me?!] Wen Yu screamed mentally, his submissive outward posture completely cracking underneath a torrent of furious webnovel logic. [If I stay locked in this room like a neglected concubine, those noble hags will just call me a cowardly fraud and use it as an excuse to strip your military titles for bringing an unrefined scandal into the inner court! I have edited forty different transmigration webnovels with this exact subplot! The second you show weakness, they smell blood in the water!]
Deep behind his stoic mask, Xie Yan listened to every single word of the inner rant, a muscle twitching sharply along his jaw as he fought back an amused smirk. The sheer, staggering contrast between the trembling, wide-eyed omega sitting across from him and the ferocious strategist screaming in his head was nothing short of dizzying.
"You will not hide," Xie Yan stated smoothly, leaning forward to rest his broad forearms on the desk. "You will stand beside me at the upcoming banquet. And you will look every bit the part of my legally wedded consort."
Wen Yu blinked, forcing his wide, innocent eyes to look suitably terrified. "I... I will try my absolute best, sir," he stammered. "Though I fear my manners are terribly coarse. What if I accidentally offend someone important?"
[Oof, offense? I am going to politely smile while mentally tearing every single one of those aristocratic snobs to absolute shreds!] Wen Yu plotted furiously inside his head, cataloging the factions from the original text. [Dowager Madam Su is the primary boss fight—she controls half the capital’s trade networks and hates anyone outside her inner circle. Lady Wu is her loyal attack dog, easily provoked by flattery that sounds like an insult. If they try to back me into a corner with poetry or tea etiquette, I’ll just play the dumb, overwhelmed provincial spouse. Let them underestimate me! It makes the counter-attack so much sweeter!]
Xie Yan listened, his dark gaze darkening with a strange, heavy mixture of disbelief and profound fascination. The omega wasn’t just surviving; he was actively building a mental battlefield strategy while looking like he was about to burst into tears.
"You need not worry about offending the right people," Xie Yan murmured, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling timbre. "As long as you stand behind my authority, no one in the capital will dare lay a hand on you. But you must remain vigilant. They will test your patience before they ever test your sword."
Before Wen Yu could reply with another timid nod, a sharp, urgent knock rattled the heavy study doors.
"Come in," Xie Yan commanded, his tone instantly snapping back to icy military authority.
The heavy oak doors creaked open, and a junior attendant hurried inside holding a silver tray with both hands. Resting upon the polished metal was a thick, cream-colored envelope sealed with heavy crimson wax bearing an intricate, aristocratic crest.
"A dispatch from the Marquise of Hanyang, General," the attendant reported, bowing low. "Delivered by a private courier just moments ago. It is addressed specifically to... to the new consort."
Wen Yu’s breath hitched. "For me?"
[The Marquise of Hanyang? Already?! That’s Lady Wu’s primary political ally! She didn’t even wait for the ink on the marriage decree to dry!]
Xie Yan gestured for the attendant to place the tray down, dismissing him with a brief flick of his wrist. Once the heavy doors clicked shut again, the general slid the silver tray across the polished desk toward Wen Yu.
"Open it," Xie Yan instructed quietly. "Let us see what kind of welcome the capital has prepared for you."
With trembling fingers—some of it genuine, but a lot of it carefully exaggerated for show—Wen Yu reached out and cracked the crimson wax seal. He unfolded the heavy parchment, his eyes scanning the elegant, sweeping calligraphy.
"To the Consort of the Supreme General,
Word of your sudden and... miraculous elevation has traveled from the scullery floors straight to the highest halls of the capital. Such an unprecedented union deserves a proper welcome. Tomorrow afternoon, I shall bring a select gathering of high-society matrons to the estate for a mandatory inspection of the inner quarters, to ensure you are adequately prepared to represent our military elite. Do not attempt to hide behind the General’s guard; we expect a proper reception.
— Marquise of Hanyang"
Wen Yu let out a soft, shaky gasp, letting the letter flutter down onto the edge of the desk. He looked up at Xie Yan, his eyes wide and shimmering with feigned distress.
"She... she calls it a mandatory inspection," Wen Yu whispered, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "She is bringing a whole group of noble matrons just to humiliate me in my own home! What should we do, General? Should we bar the gates?!"
[Bar the gates? Absolutely not!] Wen Yu raged inwardly, his modern editorial instincts screaming with pure competitive fire. [If we lock them out, they will scream scandal from the city walls! But if we let them in... oh, this is going to be glorious! Marquise Hanyang thinks she can waltz into my courtyard and treat me like a clueless maid? Let her come! I have three different tea-service traps and a polite, sickeningly sweet smile ready to make her regret the day she ever learned how to hold a writing brush!]
Xie Yan stared at the letter, then slowly lifted his gaze to meet Wen Yu’s wide, seemingly terrified eyes. The absolute dissonance between the omega’s trembling lower lip and the savage, gleeful tactical plotting echoing inside his mind nearly broke the general’s stoic composure. A deep, chest-rumbling laugh finally escaped Xie Yan’s lips, a sound so rare and warm that the study’s very air seemed to shift.
"Bar the gates?" Xie Yan repeated, a slow, predatory smirk curving his mouth as he leaned forward. "Why would we deny ourselves such prime entertainment, Wen Yu?"
Wen Yu blinked, dropping his trembling act just a fraction. "General?"
"Let her come," Xie Yan murmured, his dark eyes flashing with lethal amusement. "Marquise Hanyang fancies herself the leader of high-society inspections. She has spent years breaking new brides and junior consorts with her sharp tongue."
The general stood up, walking slowly around the desk until he stood right beside Wen Yu’s chair. He reached down, his large, calloused fingers lightly tracing the edge of the cream-colored invitation letter.
"She expects a frightened, trembling servant who will burst into tears at the first insult," Xie Yan whispered softly, his breath brushing against Wen Yu’s ear as he leaned in close. "She has no idea what kind of storm is actually waiting for her in these halls."
Wen Yu swallowed hard, the heavy scent of mountain pine wrapping around him like a direct challenge. For a split second, he forgot to look submissive, a sharp, matching spark of wicked excitement lighting up his dark eyes.
"Then I suppose," Wen Yu murmured back, his voice dropping its trembling facade to reveal a smooth, dangerously confident edge, "we had better prepare a proper reception."
Xie Yan’s smile deepened, a profound, heavy warmth settling in his chest as he looked down at his brilliantly chaotic husband. "Indeed we had. Show them how an imperial consort handles the capital’s vipers, Wen Yu."