Yan Zhouheng spent the entire afternoon at the Glazed Palace, and by the time he returned to his own quarters, his cheeks were flushed.
Whether it was from the cold wind or the thrill of swinging on the garden swing, he couldn’t say.
But one thing was certain—his heart was light with joy.
It had been a long time since Yan Zhouheng had felt this way. His breaths came effortlessly, as if filling every corner of his being, and his entire body thrummed with vitality.
When he stepped into his own palace, a faint smile still lingered on his lips. As he lowered his head to brush off the cat fur clinging to his robes, the voice of his mother suddenly reached his ears.
"Zhouheng, where have you been?" Consort Ning held a teacup, smiling warmly at him.
Yan Zhouheng paused mid-step, instinctively retreating half a pace before moving forward again.
"Greetings, Mother," he replied calmly, lowering his gaze. "I was at the Glazed Palace earlier."
Consort Ning’s expression shifted instantly. She set down her teacup and hurried to his side, her usual composure replaced by urgency.
"The Glazed Palace? Did the Crown Princess summon you? Did she do anything to you?" Her voice trembled with agitation, her face twisting slightly with barely concealed distress.
Yan Zhouheng stared at her in surprise, then shook his head.
"I went to see Eldest Sister on my own..." He didn’t dare admit he had been there to play with the cat, so he quickly fabricated an excuse. "The Grand Tutor asked me to relay some words of concern to her, so after finishing my studies, I paid a visit."
Consort Ning visibly relaxed, though she still pressed him for details—what he had eaten, what he had drunk, what he had done.
Yan Zhouheng answered each question dutifully.
Finally, he couldn’t help but ask, "Mother... do you dislike Eldest Sister?"
Consort Ning froze.
Then she smiled gently again. "Of course I care for your Eldest Sister. But now that she is the Crown Princess, assisting His Majesty with state affairs, I merely worry that you might disturb her."
"Now, look at how cold your hands are." She caressed her son’s cheek affectionately. "Go bathe and rest early."
Yan Zhouheng nodded, watching as she left.
...
"That wretched Yan Zhaoning! What a cunning woman!" Consort Ning clenched her fists, slamming them onto the table so hard the teacup rattled.
Eunuch Lü reclined against her lap, far calmer in comparison.
"I told you—poisoning the Glazed Palace wouldn’t be easy," he said. "Did Zhouheng come into contact with the poison?"
Consort Ning nodded, her face dark. "Only a trace. I’ve already placed the antidote in his quarters. A night’s sleep will neutralize it."
Still, frustration gnawed at her.
She had gone to great lengths to lace the Glazed Palace’s incense burners with poison, only for Yan Zhaoning to spend half her time away from the palace, staying at the Princess Estate instead. The Glazed Palace was left with only a few maids—if one suddenly dropped dead, it would raise far too much suspicion.
So Consort Ning had painstakingly replaced the poison with antidotes... only for Yan Zhaoning to return right after.
And when she finally re-administered the poison—what did Yan Zhaoning do? She summoned Yan Zhouheng to the Glazed Palace, keeping him there for hours! That woman’s schemes were even more ruthless than her own! She had underestimated her!
Consort Ning scoffed, unable to swallow her resentment. She tapped Eunuch Lü impatiently. "What about your plan? The wedding ceremony won’t give us any openings."
If Yan Zhaoning were merely a princess, they might have had a chance. But as the Crown Princess, marrying a man of high status like the Regent, the ceremony would be heavily guarded. There was no room for interference.
Eunuch Lü replied coolly, "Inside the palace, no. But outside... that ailing Regent shouldn’t be too hard to deal with."
Consort Ning frowned. "Have you succeeded?"
Eunuch Lü: "..."
A flicker of malice crossed his eyes. "Yan Zhaoning has been glued to the Regent’s side these days, with the Emperor’s shadow guards watching. I haven’t had a clean opportunity."
Striking was possible—but it would expose them. Not worth the risk.
"But now the Regent is alone at the Princess Estate." Eunuch Lü patted Consort Ning’s hand reassuringly. "Don’t worry. I’ve arranged for men to handle it. Let’s see if that Regent’s luck holds."
...
Princess Estate.
Sima Qing tightened his cloak, gazing indifferently at the corpses strewn across the ground.
Mei Wuchang and Fu Yu had already searched the bodies but found nothing of use.
"No markings or insignias. Who sent them?" Mei Wuchang grumbled.
Assassins kept coming, one after another. With this much persistence, they could’ve made an honest living instead!
Sima Qing, however, was lost in thought.
A faction from the martial world targeting him?
He was new to the capital. Though he often sent agents into the jianghu, he had never provoked any particular sect...
A suspicion slowly took shape in his mind.
"Clean up the courtyard," he ordered calmly. "Tell Mo Jin to return with his men. For the wedding in a few days, I will tolerate no mistakes."
"Yes!"
Fifteenth Day of the Tenth Month—the wedding day of the Crown Princess and the Regent!
At dawn, the citizens of Great Yan lined the streets, watching as the resplendent royal carriage emerged from the palace gates to fetch the groom from the Princess Estate.
The road stretched ten li, adorned with crimson silks and petals showered by cheering crowds. Even the old trees bore festive red ribbons, and joyous blessings filled the air.
Mei Wuchang and Fu Yu, their mouths stuffed with petals: "..."
They turned to Sima Qing, who sat inside the carriage with his eyes closed, resting. Neither dared to speak.
This was clearly the bride’s treatment!
Not only was their lord being married off like a consort, but he was also being paraded like a bride!
Swallowing their grievances, they silently cursed the endless road from the estate to the palace... until their lord’s voice cut through their thoughts.
"Such a joyous occasion. Why do you look so troubled? Can’t you smile?"
The two: "..."
They forced stiff, ghastly grins.
Sima Qing didn’t press further.
The lively fanfare faded as the palace gates closed behind them. After what felt like an eternity, the ceremonial officer’s voice rang out:
"Wel—come—the—groom—"
Sima Qing opened his eyes.
Before him was a waiting hand—slender, yet not delicate.
He studied it for a moment before extending his own.
As his fingertips brushed against the calluses on her palm, he instinctively tightened his grip, clasping her hand firmly.
And he felt her freeze in surprise.
Truthfully, Jiu Yue had never been married before—let alone in a ceremony where the roles were entirely reversed. Watching the carriage approach from afar, her nerves had coiled tighter with every step.
Then came the moment to offer her hand.
The instant their palms met, she stiffened.
When the golden brocade curtain lifted, she met his smile—gentle as a spring breeze.
"Your Highness," he murmured, standing beside her. "Shall we?"
Jiu Yue silently touched the mask covering half her face and the ornate headdress shielding her expression. He shouldn’t be able to tell.
"Mm." She gripped his hand with the determination of a soldier marching to war. "Let’s go!"
Sima Qing: "..."
