That voice—it sounded like Seventh Master. Impossible.
Shu Yun’s first thought was that she was hallucinating. The people ahead were already rising, yet she alone remained kneeling.
Princess Consort Linchuan saw her dazed and instantly felt dislike. Her sister-in-law must have forced a daughter-in-law on her she didn’t want. With so many noble girls in the capital, why had her son fixated on this one? Not wishing to look at her, the princess consort turned away.
Pei Yansheng noticed Shu Yun unmoving. He bent down to help her, whispering, “Sister Yun, His Majesty said to rise. Quickly, stand.”
“Oh…” Shu Yun’s mind buzzed, all her awareness drawn to the voice ahead—another faint tone, magnetic and refined, carried through the noise. Her heart began pounding uncontrollably. She pressed her hands to her knees and slowly straightened.
Amid the crowd, Shu Yun was inconspicuous. She lifted her gaze toward the source of the voice.
In the blaze of lanterns, a strikingly handsome face appeared. The brilliant light flickered in the wind, flowing across his features like water. He seemed steeped in time itself, beautiful beyond reach.
From afar, she could not confirm at once. But with each glance, each passing moment, that face overlapped more and more with the one in her memory—just like the night they first met, when she thought him a god among men.
With a loud clang, the heavy gold bracelet slipped from her hand and fell. Shu Yun’s knees weakened, nearly collapsing to the floor.
Strange gazes surged around her. The figures nearby closed in, giving her a pocket of space to breathe. Shu Yun gasped, cold sweat soaking her back. Impossible. How could it be? Seventh Master—how could he be the emperor? Wasn’t the emperor supposed to be solemn, martial, like a deity beyond mortal reach? It had to be a mistake. Fear and panic threatened to drown her.
Prince and Princess Consort Linchuan saw Shu Yun drop and break the bracelet. Their faces changed instantly. The princess’s expression turned iron-blue. “How can you be so careless?” With sisters-in-law and cousins watching, she trembled with anger.
Pei Yansheng was bewildered by Shu Yun’s loss of composure. Seeing his parents’ fury, he quickly snatched up the bracelet and stuffed it into his sleeve, laughing. “Broken for peace, broken for peace. Mother, don’t mind it.”
Wang Youjun, nearby, pushed through the crowd to support Shu Yun. She smiled apologetically at the Linchuan couple, then whispered urgently in Shu Yun’s ear. “What’s wrong with you? This is the palace—up there sit the Retired Emperor and His Majesty. Pull yourself together!”
Shu Yun slowly turned her eyes toward her cousin, dazed, her voice trembling. “That man sitting above… is he truly the emperor?”
Wang Youjun scolded her. “Frightened just from seeing His Majesty? Stop talking nonsense. Go apologize to your future mother-in-law.”
Shu Yun’s shoulders trembled. She pinched her wrist secretly, forcing herself to calm down. She could not lose control. Lowering her eyes, she stepped forward to the Linchuan couple and quietly apologized.
At such a gathering, the Linchuan prince and princess had no heart to pursue the matter. They only waved her off, showing their displeasure.
Pei Yansheng tried to comfort her gently, but Shu Yun, like a wooden fish, heard nothing.
If that man truly was Seventh Master, then the guilt she bore was heavy. But she had never experienced anything so shocking. Her mind was a blur; she had no idea how to react. Her clear eyes were wide with panic, shimmering with tears, as if she might cry at any moment.
The commotion did not go unnoticed—the Retired Emperor looked over. He raised his eyes and called out, “Yansheng, bring that child forward. Let Grandfather take a look.”
Shu Yun’s spine went cold, her body taut. Instinctively, she glanced in that direction—he was turned slightly, speaking to an attendant. What to do? What to do? At this point, marriage was irrelevant. What mattered was how she could escape intact. Her hands clutched her gown, lost and helpless. Wait—perhaps he had already forgotten her? Half a year had passed. He had three thousand beauties in his harem. Why would he remember her at all?
Shu Yun drew a deep breath, swallowing her panic, as though injecting herself with courage. She nodded firmly, forcing a smile uglier than tears toward Pei Yansheng. “Your Highness…”
“Don’t be afraid. Come with me.” Pei Yansheng led the way.
Almost every gaze turned toward them.
The lantern light flickered in her eyes as fear spread through her limbs. Shu Yun moved numbly, following. Closer, closer still. From the corner of her vision, that man’s gaze slowly turned toward her. Her heart nearly leaped into her throat. She held her breath, lowering her head, trying to erase her presence.
The next instant, his eyes slid away casually. Relief surged through her, like a drowning soul finding air. She exhaled. Thus she followed Pei Yansheng to the Retired Emperor.
The old man sat on a purple-gold dragon seat to the west, a tall rosewood couch placed beside him. Dressed in a thick robe patterned with longevity characters, he sat cross-legged, his gaze warm as it fell on Shu Yun.
“Pay respects to your imperial grandfather.” Pei Yansheng knelt first, tugging Shu Yun’s sleeve.
At that moment, Shu Yun felt a sharp gaze pierce her. Terrified, she collapsed to her knees, wanting to speak but her throat stuck fast. No sound came. She simply lay prostrate.
The Retired Emperor looked at the girl kneeling before him. She wore a water-red robe with wide sleeves, as a vivid pink butterfly crouched on the floor. Even from behind, one could imagine her delicate beauty.
“Lift your head. Let me see you.”
Shu Yun paused, then woodenly raised her face. Her long lashes lowered gently as the Retired Emperor studied her. In her peripheral vision, the emperor’s bright yellow robe gleamed under the lanterns, his sharply defined face seeming both attentive and indifferent. Yet he was like a source of light itself, burning her cheeks with heat.
The Retired Emperor was instantly struck by her beauty. He patted Pei Yansheng’s head. “You lucky child—where did you find such a fine bride?”
As his words fell, Liu Kui, serving beside the emperor, gave a discreet cough. The Retired Emperor glanced at him suspiciously.
Pei Yansheng scratched the back of his head, grinning. This time he was clever enough to flatter. “Grandfather, it is thanks to your blessing.”
The Retired Emperor was even more pleased.
Any other girl would have blushed shyly, but Shu Yun remained almost motionless, her face showing no reaction.
The Retired Emperor was not offended. He gestured toward Pei Yue.
“The marriage edict has already been given to your imperial uncle. Quickly, bring the girl to bow before him.”
Pei Yansheng’s eyes sparkled, joy overflowing. “Grandson thanks Grandfather for his grace.” He tried to pull Shu Yun up, but this time she reacted faster, hurriedly rising and stepping back.
Pei Yansheng, still smiling, led her to the emperor. “Sister Yun, quickly bow to your uncle.” His tone was tender and affectionate.
Shu Yun, whether from shock or resignation, showed no emotion. Mechanically, she moved to Pei Yansheng’s side, her gaze fixed on the bright yellow hem that symbolized imperial power. She forced a crisp smile. “Greetings to Imperial Uncle.”
Her hands touched the cold tiles, and suddenly her awareness snapped back. No—that was wrong. Why call him “uncle”? Shouldn’t she say “Your Majesty”? She wasn’t married to Pei Yansheng yet. Shu Yun wished she could slap herself, and in despair knocked her head to the floor.
Pei Yansheng seemed delighted with her behavior. He knelt happily, his eyes full of hope, looking toward the man behind the dragon desk. “Uncle, your nephew loves the third daughter of the Shu family. Please grant us marriage.”
Pei Yue’s long, defined fingers pressed slowly onto the edict, producing a sharp crack.