Consort Shun gave no reply to Li Ce's call. Her eyes were fixed on the cloth he had brought—an exquisite bolt of peacock-patterned brocade from Hengzhou, its surface shimmering with opulent brilliance.
Without a word, she seized the brocade, bit its edge, and tore it apart with a savage jerk. A sharp ripping sound echoed in the hall. Palace maids rushed forward to stop her, but Li Ce waved them away.
"If Mother wishes to tear it, then let her."
The servants quietly retreated. Li Ce knelt before his birth mother, his back to the open hall doors. In truth, he had spent little time with her. At birth, he was sent to the imperial tombs while she remained in the palace to serve the Emperor and Empress. His only memories of her were the gifts she had sent—when he was young, toys, food, and clothing; later, books of every kind, and a seemingly endless stream of letters.
Though barely literate, she sent him everything from classical texts to art manuals and chess strategies. Once, even a folk tale slipped through. That book, far more entertaining than the others, he read until its spine wore thin.
But after he turned thirteen, her parcels ceased. She fell mysteriously ill, then descended into madness. By the time he returned, she could no longer recognize him.
Now, even as he knelt beside her, she paid him no mind. Her fingers worked swiftly, shredding the brocade into strips and knotting them into a rope. She clutched it tightly, her gaze wary, as if guarding it from him.
"Mother," Li Ce whispered, a smile trembling on his tear-streaked face. "Mother, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
He repeated the apology over and over, yet never said what for. Consort Shun gripped the rope, trembling, eyes filled with suspicion, devoid of the gentleness of a mother's love.
Li Ce lingered long in the Hall of Contained Fragrance, until an attendant came to urge him—His Majesty was summoning the Prince of Chu for a council, and delay would not be tolerated.
He asked them to wait. Rising to his feet, he straightened his robes. To face the Emperor, one's garments must be spotless, one's hair immaculate, one's expression solemn, and one's bearing composed.
He walked to the Hall of Purple Radiance in silence, lips pressed tight.
The hall was already crowded. The Emperor and Empress sat high upon their thrones; the rest stood in loose clusters, the air warm with idle conversation. Prime Minister Fu Qian chatted amiably with the Ministry of Rites, while military officials whispered among themselves.
Closer to the incense burner stood two unexpected figures: Lady Ye of the Duke of Anguo's household, and her daughter, Ye Jiao. Though Lady Ye wore a solemn expression, her joy could scarcely be concealed. At Li Ce's entrance, Ye Jiao cast a glance his way, her eyes bright with secret delight.
Li Ce's face remained impassive as he bowed to the Emperor.
"My Ninth," the Emperor called, handing him a memorial, clearly in high spirits. "Good news from the Jin Prince—our Tang forces have crushed the Tubo army. They've retreated to the lower Qanquan River and submitted a formal petition of surrender."
No wonder the Emperor was in such a good mood—it was victory in battle.
Li Ce offered praise for the Jin Prince, calling him a valiant protector and a model among the imperial sons.
"You all should learn from your second brother," the Emperor said, then added with a smile, "Though the officer I personally promoted—the Yihui Captain—has done remarkably well too."
The Yihui Captain was Ye Changgeng, no doubt the reason Lady Ye had been summoned.
The Emperor stood and proclaimed, "Ye Changgeng infiltrated enemy lines and, with a mere thirty men, disrupted their supply chain after days in hiding. This allowed the Jin Prince to launch a counterstrike and win decisively. I've elevated him to General of Light Cavalry, fifth rank and above."
A fifth-rank general—no small honor. The Duke of Anguo's household must be elated.
Li Ce bowed deeply, voice hoarse: "Your Majesty is wise."
"Your voice—what happened?" the Emperor asked with concern. "If you're unwell, take more rest. I heard you paid respects at the Princess Royal's manor today. Let the Fifth handle such matters next time."
Li Ce nodded obediently. His voice was strained, perhaps from holding back too many unshed tears. But his expression was composed.
As the Princess Royal was mentioned, the Emperor noted he had sent comfort, and the Empress said she had already dispatched attendants that morning. In rare public harmony, the Emperor patted her shoulder.
"Don't cry in front of others. In time, you may go in person to console the Princess."
Then the Emperor turned to Li Ce. "Ninth, there is another matter for which I summoned you."
He glanced at the Empress, who took her cue: "It was remiss of me, as your mother, to neglect your marriage. You've reached manhood, and had His Majesty not reminded me, who knows how long it would've gone overlooked?"
Li Ce stood beside the imperial throne like a reed in a storm. No matter how he tried to remain upright, he swayed with invisible tremors.
So that's why the Duke of Anguo's household had been invited.
He turned instinctively toward Ye Jiao. She did not feign modesty like the other noble ladies. Her luminous eyes gazed at the Emperor with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. That lively face made even the Emperor smile.
"You're not well," the Emperor said, "you should have someone at your side. I've kept watch for a suitable girl in the capital, but none seemed quite right."
Not quite right—because they lacked charm. But the Emperor wouldn't say that aloud. His stern features softened as he squinted toward Ye Jiao, nearly laughing.
How wonderful it would be to see her often once she became his daughter-in-law. Clever, capable, full of mischief—he could enjoy the chaos she brought, whether inside the palace or out. Truly, a prize worth bringing home.
Raising his brows, he declared, "With the Prince of Chu's residence nearly completed, and after hearing at the Qiqiao Banquet that you and Lady Ye are well-matched, I now bestow her upon you as your Princess Consort. Do you accept?"
Only then did Ye Jiao lower her gaze. Lady Ye smiled with composed grace, and the Empress nodded in pleased approval. Among the ministers, the men of the Ministry of Rites were already calculating auspicious dates.
Li Ce knelt.
Do you accept?
Of course he did. She was his cherished girl—the one he longed to dote upon, the bride he had dreamed of.
He had meant to request the imperial decree himself. He had prepared a chamber full of betrothal gifts, emptied the capital's goldsmiths of their finest ornaments—all for her.
He had thanked Heaven again and again. Never in twenty years had he felt as lucky as he did this year, all because of her. To marry her—what bliss it would be.
He was willing—willing to give everything he had for a lifetime by her side.
He craved neither throne nor treasure. All he wished for was health and peace for his loved ones, a home, a warm embrace.
She had all of that warmth.
But—
Li Ce knelt on the cold floor. It felt like the chill of hell itself rising from the stones. Ice crept up his knees, freezing his limbs, his heart, his face—leaving only a mouth capable of speech.
"Father," he said, bowing low. "This son…"
He had to summon all his strength to move his lips, to shape three devastating words.
"…does not wish it."
I do not wish it.
The hall fell utterly silent. Courtiers froze in place. Lady Ye was stunned, the Empress rose in disbelief, and the Emperor sat dumbfounded.
"What did you say?"
"I do not wish it."
He said it again, and this time, his voice was steady.