The noise in the hall fell silent in an instant, every eye turning toward them.
The Emperor set down his white jade wine cup. The Twelve Imperial Symbols embroidered on his dragon robe gleamed in the candlelight as he looked at Yunxiao leading the group, his voice clear and loud: “Perfect timing, my sons. I was just saying a hunt like this deserves a fine feast to match.”
The Empress picked up her handkerchief to dab at her lips, her smile gentle as she looked toward the ladies’ section: “Please be seated.”
Attendants hurried to bring cushioned stools, and everyone took their places in order. Yet the atmosphere felt more delicate than before.
The Emperor tapped his fingers lightly on the arm of his throne, his gaze sweeping between Yunxiao and the ladies in the hall as he spoke slowly: “Xiao’er has managed the Eastern Palace well these years—capable in all matters, save for one thing: he lacks someone by his side to share in joys and sorrows.”
The moment he finished, even the breathing in the hall seemed to soften.
Several young ladies from noble families lowered their eyes, their fingers unconsciously twisting their skirts. A quiet hope stirred in their hearts—who wouldn’t wish for such immense honor to fall to them?
Yunxiao’s fingers curled almost imperceptibly at his side before relaxing again. This sudden selection of a crown princess was clearly unexpected even to him.
Gu Qianqian was midway through eating a plum blossom pastry when the words “Crown Prince’s consort” reached her ears. She nearly choked on a crumb, hastily taking a sip of tea as her eyes widened in shock. She glanced from the Emperor to Yunxiao, then nudged Lin Wan’er’s arm, whispering: “Choosing a crown princess? Why so sudden—as if talking about the weather!”
Shen Xi’s hand holding her teacup paused slightly. Though events had already diverged greatly from her past life, she never imagined something as momentous as the Crown Prince’s betrothal would be moved forward so drastically.
“Since we’re on the subject,” the Emperor spoke again, breaking the stillness, “why not let everyone showcase their talents? Whether music, calligraphy, archery, or strategy—it will help Xiao’er make his choice.”
The Empress immediately smiled in agreement: “The Emperor is right. Young people should display their skills.” She looked toward the ladies’ section. “Who will go first?”
Yuan Jingxian was the first to rise, clutching a pipa score hidden in her sleeve as she spoke confidently: “Your Majesties—I humbly offer to play Wild Geese Descending on the Sandbank.”
She carried her pipa to the center of the hall, her slender fingers dancing over the strings. Clear, melodious notes filled the air—sometimes like geese gliding across the sky, sometimes like birds settling on shallow shores. Many nodded in admiration.
When the piece ended, Yuan Jingxian bowed gracefully, her expression balancing modesty and quiet pride perfectly.
The Empress spoke warmly: “Jingxian’s pipa skills grow more refined by the day. Truly worthy of the Grand Tutor’s careful teaching.”
The hall filled with murmurs of praise—clearly impressed by her elegance.
Yunxiao sat upright, his gaze passing over Yuan Jingxian. With the Grand Tutor wielding great influence at court and Yuan Jingxian being so measured in her conduct, she would make a suitable crown princess.
His fingers tapped lightly on his knee before he looked up, meeting the Emperor’s gaze with a slight nod—a silent acknowledgment of the praise in the hall.
Shen Xi watched from her seat, seeing clearly the calculation in his eyes.
She lifted her teacup, steam blurring her features.
The Grand Tutor currently held authority over the Censorate—power the Emperor relied on yet also guarded against. Choosing Yuan Jingxian would be a shrewd move to stabilize the court.
Just then, the Empress seemed to remember something, turning to Shen Xi: “As the daughter of a military family, Miss Shen must have her own special talents?”
Shen Xi rose slightly from her seat, her tone carrying just the right amount of diffidence: “Your Majesty is too kind. Though I come from a military household, I have no great skills to speak of. My archery and horsemanship cannot compare to soldiers in the army, and I know next to nothing of poetry or calligraphy.”
As she spoke, she met Yuan Jingxian’s gaze—and caught a flash of barely concealed disdain. Shen Xi only smiled faintly before turning back to the Empress: “Hearing Miss Yuan’s performance just now filled me with admiration. Such refined arts are not meant for those of us who handle swords and spears.”
The Empress laughed at her candor, her tone growing warmer: “Miss Shen is refreshingly honest. Daughters of military families have their own grace—there’s no need to force what doesn’t come naturally.”
The Emperor listened from his throne before speaking suddenly: “General Shen has guarded the Northern Frontier for years—his children should have steel in their bones. If refined arts are not your way, then tell me: what would you do if war broke out at the border again?”
The question caught everyone off guard, and silence fell once more.
Shen Xi’s fingertips paused briefly on the cool porcelain before she looked up, her gaze sweeping over several elderly ministers in court robes. Her voice lost its earlier diffidence, growing steady and clear: “Your Majesty—I do not dare to speak lightly of military affairs. But I remember my father often saying that no wall is high enough to stop a divided people, and no amount of grain can fill the void left by suspicion.”
“If war comes again,” she continued, turning to face the Emperor, “the front lines need reassurance—that the court will not abandon them halfway, and their families are safe. The home front needs security—that supplies are managed transparently, rumors are put to rest, and people know their taxes are well spent and their loved ones are not guarding the border in vain.”
She paused, her tone growing more earnest: “As for strategies to conquer or defend, our generals and advisors will plan those. But I believe that giving our defenders peace of mind and our people confidence is more important than any clever tactic.”
The hall was so quiet one could hear the crackle of candle flames.
Several ministers who had served in the north exchanged glances, their eyes showing clear approval. Her words were simple, yet captured the true hardships of guarding the frontier—more grounded than any grand strategizing in memorials.
The Emperor stroked his beard, his eyes resting on Shen Xi for a moment before he laughed aloud: “General Shen has raised his daughter well—she understands that to hold a fortress, you must first hold the hearts of those within it.”
Shen Xi lowered her eyes, her fingertips tracing the rim of her cup. She knew these words were not just empty talk—they were hard-won lessons from the blood and tears of her past life, when the Shen family fell from grace.
The Emperor’s tone shifted, his gaze growing deeper as he looked at her: “Shen Xi—you have such insight and understand the border’s needs so well. To have you support Xiao’er in strengthening the nation as crown princess would be most fitting. Would you accept?”
The words struck like thunder, leaving the hall utterly silent.
Yuan Jingxian’s face drained of color, her pipa nearly slipping from her grasp. Shen Mo’s hand holding his teacup stilled, worry flashing across his eyes as he looked at his sister. Only Yunxiao’s eyes held a barely perceptible glimmer of joy.
Only Yun Zilan seemed unaffected, turning a jade archer’s ring idly between his fingers. His gaze passed over Shen Xi before settling lightly on the Emperor—as if watching a most entertaining play.
Slowly, Shen Xi rose to her feet, her back straight as a spear. She bowed deeply to the Emperor and Empress, her voice clear and firm: “I am deeply honored by Your Majesties’ kindness, but I cannot accept.”
“The position of crown princess concerns the very foundation of our nation. It requires someone who can stand beside the Crown Prince in harmony and weather all storms together.” She lifted her head, her gaze steady and open.
“I have a straightforward nature. If I were to enter the Eastern Palace, some might suspect the Shen family of seeking power—only bringing trouble to the Crown Prince. Moreover, my heart does not lie within the palace walls. If Your Majesty grants me permission, when war comes again, I wish to ride to the frontier with my father and brother. That, I believe, is how I can serve our nation most truly.”
Her words were neither humble nor overbearing—refusing the honor while making her aspirations clear, always considering the greater good. There was no timidity in her voice, only the resolve of someone ready to stand with their country through thick and thin.
Rather than the splendor of the Eastern Palace, she chose to wear armor and stand firm against wind and sand—as a child of the Shen family should.
Surprise flickered across the Emperor’s face before giving way to approval. He laughed heartily: “What a magnificent daughter of the Shen family! With words like these, I can rest easy. With the Shen family guarding our land, Nanchi is truly secure.”
Some were shocked, some impressed, some thoughtful, some doubtful—but all eyes were drawn to the young woman standing in the hall, her spirit unyielding as stone.