Lu Yun turned her gaze to the other side of the dragon throne. On the lower seat to the right sat the recently favored Consort Chen, Shen Wei.
Lu Yun’s delicate brows furrowed slightly. She recalled that in her past life, there had been no Consort Chen in the imperial harem, nor did General Shen Mieyue have a younger sister.
Shen Mieyue had no children and had died young on the battlefield. The emperor posthumously honored him as Marquis of Zhenguo, granting him a tomb in the imperial ancestral temple.
"Consort Chen..." Lu Yun murmured to herself. Three years ago, when the emperor ascended the throne, he had disliked Consort Chen’s humble origins and sent her to the mountains to fend for herself.
Later, when her true identity was revealed, the emperor reluctantly brought her back to the palace and granted her the title of consort—only out of respect for General Shen.
Lu Yun studied the infamous Consort Chen. Though not as breathtakingly beautiful as Lu Xuan, Shen Wei had a delicate charm that grew more appealing the longer one looked at her.
Consort Chen wore an emerald-green misty silk dress, its colors like sunset clouds, though the fabric was not as precious as the phoenix-tail gown adorning Lu Xuan. Her hair ornaments, too, were modest in comparison.
Her complexion appeared wan, her eyes slightly swollen and reddened. Slouched in her rosewood chair, her posture lacked the flawless grace of Noble Consort Lu Xuan.
"Truly, a peasant girl can’t compare to a noble lady raised in a great family," Lu Yun thought, shaking her head inwardly.
Consort Chen’s favor was entirely due to her influential family.
The emperor valued Shen Mieyue, and by extension, showed slight kindness to Shen Wei.
Lu Yun’s gaze drifted further down, passing over Consort Mei Liu Ruyan, Consort Yu Zhang Miaoyu, Noble Lady Lan Xie Fanglan, and Noble Lady Qiao Liu Qiao'er. Her lips curled in disdain.
Unremarkable.
...
On the men’s side of the banquet, Shen Xiuming finished paying respects to the emperor and returned to his seat.
His eyes burned with eagerness as he looked toward the high platform. At the sight of his long-lost sister, his body stiffened, and tears nearly spilled from his eyes.
He nudged his elder brother beside him and whispered, "Elder Brother, look at Sister... Ah..."
Shen Mieyue had already noticed Shen Wei.
Years had passed since he last saw her. The timid, petite girl he remembered had transformed into the radiant Consort Chen.
Shen Xiuming sighed softly. "Elder Brother, look how pale she is—her eyes are swollen, her lips chapped... Clearly, life in the palace hasn’t been kind to her."
Both were imperial consorts, yet Noble Consort Lu Xuan glowed with vitality while Consort Chen Shen Wei appeared weary and red-eyed.
Shen Xiuming’s heart ached, and he fought back tears. The struggles of women in the harem were truly terrifying.
Shen Mieyue, however, did not pity his sister. Though she seemed fragile, she was shrewd and well-connected. He had no doubt she thrived in the palace.
Perhaps something had happened today to dampen her spirits.
...
...
Inside Qinghua Hall, music and dance filled the air.
Shen Wei sat stiffly in her chair, her body aching everywhere—her back, her legs, every inch of her.
Li Yuanjing noticed her discomfort, his lips curling slightly as he gestured for De Shun to bring her a soft duck-down cushion.
With the cushion supporting her lower back, Shen Wei finally found some relief.
She gritted her teeth silently, recalling the afternoon’s misfortunes.
Tonight’s banquet was to be her reunion with her elder brother, and she had spent hours preparing—dressing in the exquisite Qinghe Biwave gown made from the prized Qinghe brocade gifted by the Empress Dowager, styling her hair in an elaborate cloud-top chignon, and applying cosmetics from Qixiang Studio.
When she had finally gazed at her reflection, she had been radiant.
But then Li Yuanjing had appeared.
Fresh from a meeting with Shen Mieyue, the emperor had been in high spirits and sought to share his joy with Shen Wei.
The moment he entered, he was met with a vision—a stunning beauty before the mirror, her figure willow-slender, her eyes enchanting, glowing like a celestial maiden.
"Your Majesty," she had greeted, her voice a soft southern breeze that coiled around him, tugging at his heart.
Li Yuanjing had been entranced.
And Shen Wei had suffered for it.
Her gorgeous gown was torn, her hair ornaments scattered, the mirror smudged beyond recognition.
Afterward, she had glared at him, too furious to speak.
With little time left, she had hastily redone her appearance, arriving at the banquet disheveled and exhausted.
De Shun leaned in and murmured, "Consort Chen, His Majesty has ordered two pearls sent to Yongning Palace as an apology."
Shen Wei sipped her tea, unimpressed.
Two pearls? Was that all?
De Shun added, "These pearls were tribute from the Eastern Kingdom, harvested from thousand-year-old clams. Each is worth a fortune—there are no others like them in all of Da Qing."
Shen Wei set down her cup.
Fine. She would forgive him.
...
...
As the banquet reached its peak, an elderly envoy from Yue Kingdom stepped forward and bowed deeply to Emperor Qing.
The envoy, a leading figure of Yue’s peace faction, had traveled far to Da Qing. Though tonight was a welcoming feast, not a diplomatic meeting, he clasped his hands and spoke in a resonant voice:
"Your Imperial Majesty, our emperor has long admired the culture and noble women of Da Qing. He humbly requests the hand of a princess in marriage."
Yue and Qing were equals, and the envoy’s use of "request" rather than "alliance" showed Yue’s sincerity.
The hall fell silent.
All eyes turned curiously toward the imperial family’s seating.
Zhao Yang Princess sipped her tea calmly.
Among the men, Yan Yunting took a careless sip of wine, unimpressed. The emperor would surely agree—but no true princess would endure the journey to Yue. As was tradition, a noblewoman would be chosen and given the title of princess for the marriage.
Emperor Qing nodded. "Granted."
Tuoba Hongchuan had overthrown Yue’s old emperor with Qing’s support, and the two rulers maintained a cooperative relationship.
The envoy continued, "Our emperor has long admired Zhao Yang Princess for her kindness and virtue. He wishes to take her as his empress, to cherish her for life."
Gasps filled the hall.
Everyone knew Zhao Yang Princess’s heart belonged to Yan Yunting.
Yet now, the Yue emperor had named her directly.
Yan Yunting’s cup slipped from his fingers, wine splashing across the table and staining his crimson robes.
