Yun Zhao sat in the corner, tapping his fingers lightly on the table in a steady rhythm that never faltered. When he heard Shen Xi refuse the betrothal, his eyelids lifted slightly, his gaze passing over her upright figure in the hall. In his dark, impassive eyes, only a faint glimmer of light appeared—so quick it was almost imperceptible.
The Emperor’s laughter faded, his gaze sweeping over everyone present before resting on Shen Xi again: “Very well—if that is your wish, I will not force you. But your loyalty and courage will not be forgotten.”
Shen Xi bowed again: “Thank you for your understanding, Your Majesty.”
The Empress turned her attention to Yuan Jingxian, her tone returning to its usual calm composure but carrying undeniable authority: “Jingxian’s musical skill is exceptional, and her temperament refined—she would complement the Eastern Palace well.”
She paused, looking at Yunxiao: “Xiao’er—I hereby betroth Miss Yuan to you as Crown Princess. We will set a date for the wedding shortly.”
At these words, Yuan Jingxian trembled violently before forcing down her shock and joy. She rose hastily to bow, her voice shaking with barely contained emotion: “I… thank Your Majesties for this great honor!”
The disappointment and fear she had felt when overshadowed by Shen Xi now transformed into overwhelming excitement. Her fingers twisted her skirt so tightly they seemed ready to tear through the fabric.
Yunxiao lowered his eyes, responding calmly: “Your son obeys the Emperor’s command.” His tone gave no hint of his feelings, though his hand on his knee had relaxed slightly.
Everyone in the hall rose to offer congratulations. The eyes that had been on Shen Xi now turned to Yuan Jingxian, and words of praise filled the air.
Yun Zilan raised an eyebrow with a smile, mouthing silently to Yunxiao: “Congratulations, Brother.” There was a touch of teasing in his expression.
The feast resumed, with music rising and falling through the hall—sometimes bright and clear like water flowing over stones, sometimes low and plaintive as if telling a story of longing.
Gu Qianqian nudged Shen Xi gently, whispering: “Look at those sisters—they looked so down just now, and now they’re blooming like peach blossoms in spring!”
Lin Wan’er held her teacup, her gaze sweeping lightly across the room as she spoke softly: “I hear the Grand Tutor approached the Minister of Rites just days ago to speak of this match. She’s gotten what she wanted, so naturally she’s pleased. But whether the Crown Prince shares her joy is another matter… His tone was quite cold when he accepted.”
Shen Xi’s hand holding her cup paused as she looked at Yuan Jingxian surrounded by well-wishers. Her lips held no smile: “She’s wanted this position for a long time. Now that she has it, it’s good for her.”
When the Spring Banquet ended, the moon was already high in the sky.
Shen Xi took her leave alongside Shen Mo.
As they stepped out of the hall, evening breeze carrying the scent of osmanthus brushed her face. She glanced back at the brightly lit palace—its splendor and luxury felt like a scene from another world.
Shen Mo hurried to walk beside her, speaking quietly: “You were bold to say what you did in there.”
His voice carried a note of relief mixed with pride.
Shen Xi turned to look at him, the corners of her eyes lifting slightly: “Brother—look at those candles in the hall. They’re bright enough to show every smile on our faces, but can they illuminate the ugliness hidden beneath?”
She looked up at the moon: “The candles in the palace are for nobles—they shine on propriety and dignity. But the moon in the sky is different—it shines on palaces and slums alike, on all the hardships people cannot speak of.”
Shen Mo’s throat tightened. How could he not understand?
He reached out to gently stroke her hair: “That it can be seen at all is good. But if you’re going to be the one holding the lamp from now on, you must tell me first.”
In the distance, Yunxiao stood under the corridor, watching the siblings’ figures disappear into the moonlight. His fingers unconsciously rubbed the jade pendant at his waist.
Yun Zilan leaned against a red lacquered pillar, pausing in his twisting of the jade archer’s ring to smile meaningfully: “Brother—the number of people who want to bring you down is not small. I wonder how much help the Yuan family will be?”
He stepped closer, his voice so low it was like vines creeping up the pillar: “We both know that relying on Father’s favor alone is not enough. The position of Crown Prince has never been secure once taken.”
Yunxiao stared at the solitary moon above the palace walls, his voice as cold as ice: “My affairs are none of your concern.”
“Not your concern?” Yun Zilan murmured to himself, his smile taking on deeper meaning. “In this palace, the game of power does not let you choose whether to play or not.”
Shen Xi has certainly breathed life into this game, he thought. By refusing the position of Crown Princess, she has earned the respect of officials across the court and secured Father’s memory of the Shen family’s loyalty. Her calculations are sharper than anyone’s.
The palace night remained quiet, but something had already begun to shift beneath the surface of what seemed like ordinary conversation.
As Shen Xi and Shen Mo rode out of the palace gates, night wind billowed her robes, carrying a crisp coolness. They each mounted their own horses.
Shen Xi reached down to touch something, only to find empty air. The familiar soft, furry texture was gone, and the emptiness made her heart lurch. “Where’s Snowball?” she asked Shen Mo.
Shen Mo paused, surprised: “Wasn’t it curled at your feet just now?”
They searched around but found no sign of the fox.
Shen Xi grew anxious, nearly dismounting: “I’ll go back and look for it!”
“Wait!” Shen Mo quickly stopped her. “The palace gates are closed—going back now would draw too much attention. It probably ran off when we were saying our goodbyes. We can send someone to inquire at the palace tomorrow.”
Meanwhile, inside another understated yet luxurious carriage, Yun Zhao leaned against the cushions with his eyes closed. Suddenly he felt weight settle on his knee. Opening his eyes, he saw a small white creature looking up at him—none other than the fox Shen Xi had saved that day.
Snowball seemed shy, letting out soft whimpers but curiously sniffing at his robes.
Yun Zhao’s eyes moved slightly as he extended a finger to gently touch the fox’s ear. The little creature twitched but did not flee, instead curling closer into his lap.
He withdrew his hand and closed his eyes again, though his fingertips still held the faint sensation of soft fur. The carriage moved smoothly forward, and the only sound in the compartment was the fox’s quiet breathing. His lips remained set in a firm line, but his eyes softened almost imperceptibly.
Halfway home, Shen Xi watched the streets passing by the window and suddenly remembered—just before leaving the palace gates, Snowball had chased a moth a short distance away… Could it have scrambled into the wrong carriage?
She slapped her forehead in frustration. Snowball must have run into someone else’s carriage!
“Brother!” she called to Shen Mo. “Snowball must have gotten mixed up—I think… it probably climbed into the Prince’s carriage!”
When they had left the palace, Yun Zhao’s carriage had been parked right next to theirs—Snowball could easily have wandered inside!
Shen Mo pretended to frown: “Yun Zhao? He’s so cold—Snowball will probably be miserable. Very well—I’ll go to the Prince’s residence myself tomorrow morning!”
In truth, he had deliberately placed the fox there…
Shen Xi sighed. The thought of Snowball now nestled beside that cold-faced prince made her cringe.
This is going to be so awkward…
“Maybe… I should go myself?” she said hesitantly. “Brother has military matters to handle tomorrow—this is just a small thing. I can take care of it.”
“Hey! You—”
Before Shen Mo could finish speaking, Shen Xi pressed her heels into her horse’s sides. With a flick of the reins, the white steed shot forward, carrying her away.