In only a few short days, sensational rumors wrapped themselves around the two great empires like wildfire carried by a storm.
From bustling capitals to remote villages, from noble estates to roadside teahouses, the same whispers spread:
"The Hall of God's Face has risen! Hundreds of families pay respect, tens of thousands of women bow their heads in reverence!"
"Colorful auspicious clouds gather above the skies! Strange beasts gather spontaneously in worship! The mysterious Shenyan Temple rises like miracle itself, ruled by the peerless hall master from the north—Subei. His beauty subverts heaven and earth, his divine nature creates legends both ancient and modern. To behold his face is to enjoy blessings earned in eight lifetimes, and future fortune in all nine realms."
The stories spun into myth. Some said he could bend stars, others that maidens fought and clawed themselves to see him. Some even whispered that on his temple's opening day, chaos erupted among women—skirts torn, veils cast aside, bodies swaying in frantic contest.
But the most shocking part of all was not godlike rumors. It was this—
"The hall master, His Highness Subei… is but a child!"
The Border Teahouse
In a town named Xingchu, far south of the Star Luo Empire, the rumors flowed as freely as tea.
The climate was hot, streets dry and dusty. Shirtless vendors hawked roasted meat and melons beneath the scorching sun. Men wiped sweat from their backs until it ran dark upon the dirt. Yet tucked beneath the shade of large sycamore trees sat the teahouse, an oasis of cool breezes and gossip.
Here, the storyteller's voice rose dramatically, weaving myth into song.
"On the borders of heaven and earth, where Wuhun Hall's jurisdiction ends, a miraculous palace emerged! And the one at its peak—ahh, dear guests—his face was like a god's! Therefore, the people gave it a name worthy of divinity: Shenyan Hall!"
With practiced flair, he slammed his fan against the table. Cups rattled, chatter stirred.
"The day it opened, hundreds of families came, nobles and peasants alike!" His eyebrows arched cunningly. "Tens of thousands flocked, desperate to behold this youthful hall lord. Only a lucky thousand managed to glimpse him—yet they testified as if they had seen immortality itself!"
Gasps rippled through the teahouse. Someone sipped tea nervously before blurting, "But Sir! Such tales—surely exaggerations! Could a child truly spark such contests among beauties?"
Another leaned forward, sneering. "Indeed! I have heard the Saint of Wuhun Hall herself—twelve years old, admired by millions! People say she admires His Highness from Shenyan. Yet is it believable that a girl of twelve would love a child under ten? Don't be fooled by tricks—Subei must be at least fourteen, or a full-grown youth!"
The storyteller huffed, indignant, poised to rebut. But before he could, a sharp voice cut through like a blade.
"Fallacy! Great fallacy!"
From the teahouse's shadows, a young man in fine scholar's robes stepped out, shaking a folding fan. His tone dripped with disdain.
"Your brain must be diseased to claim such nonsense. Those who saw Subei all swear he is indeed a boy—yet so divine in beauty that even gods themselves would shudder."
His words sent a fresh shock through the room. Some scoffed. Others listened wide-eyed. The youth smirked calmly and pressed further.
"Do you know one thing? Pope Bibi Dong herself personally took him as disciple. Pope Bibi Dong—a woman who has accepted no consort, who has walked alone for years. And yet when she found this child, she didn't cast her eyes away. Ask yourself. Would such a woman take interest only to 'accept a disciple'? Foolish!"
A ripple of stunned murmurs poured across the room. From a window seat, an unremarkable girl with black hair tilted her head, listening intently. She looked no different from any country-born teen, yet her gaze was too focused, too bright. The words being thrown around—Subei, divine beauty, fate—seemed to weigh heavily upon her.
For this was Zhu Zhuqing of the Zhu clan.
Conflict Among Skeptics
Arguments boiled among the crowd. A skeptic clapped his palm against the table. "Impossible! Beauty that shakes ghosts and gods? Hah! Only kings competed for Daji and Bao Si when they were grown women. A boy? Lies of rulers, to captivate peasants!"
The scholar, however, merely smiled thinly. "Superficial. If you had seen him, words would stick in your throat before you dared utter doubt. No human tongue can imagine his face, let alone insult it."
Even as disputes burned, one man spluttered tea out his nose. "What?! You—you've truly seen him yourself?"
The youth inhaled deeply, gaze turning upwards as though recalling a memory burned into the heavens. "Yes. Once. Never forgotten. If not for fear of ridicule…" His voice broke into a laugh, low and self-deprecating. "I'd declare without shame—I wish I were a stunning beauty, to fall in love with him and belong to him, willingly, for life."
The teahouse fell into scandalized silence. Some cursed him mad. Others shivered in envy. Zhu Zhuqing, sitting quietly, clenched her hand upon her teacup.
An Invitation
After dusk fell and the teahouse emptied, the young scholar drained herbal tea for his dry throat. He was finally resting when an old man approached.
"Sir, my lady has heard your words. She wishes to inquire further."
The scholar noticed at once the tattoo faintly visible upon the old man's chest—a paw insignia of the Zhu family. He instantly clasped his hands in respect. "An elder of the Zhu family? An honor."
"Please, young master. This way."
The Zhu family was one of Star Luo's grandest noble pillars, closely tied to the royal line. To speak before them was potential fortune. The scholar's legs almost twitched with ambition—yet he tempered himself. Because the Zhu women were famed. Some said their beauty rivaled blooming cats in moonlight.
Following him into a private loft-room, he stopped, stunned.
Seated there, dressed in elegant yet simple robes, hair tied with small cat-ear ornaments… was a girl delicate as crystal glass, but with the sharp eyes of a predator.
"You are… Miss Zhu Zhuqing?"
The little girl nodded shyly. Her lips pursed, holding questions she had waited all day to ask.
Zhu Zhuqing's Curiosity
The old man introduced softly. "This is the second young lady, Zhu Zhuqing."
The girl's gaze lifted eagerly. "You spoke of the Shenyan Hall Lord. Tell me everything."
The scholar forced composure despite her innocent frankness. "What does Miss wish to know?"
"Everything." Her cheeks flushed. "His face, his voice… how he truly is."
Amusement danced in the scholar's eyes. "Then perhaps you should ask directly. For every word about him is a droplet compared to the ocean."
Zhu Zhuqing puckered her lips thoughtfully. Then finally asked the point eating at her.
"They say he is a child… is it true?"
The youth answered, "Not younger than you, Miss. Perhaps the same age."
Her eyes widened in surprise, hope flickering like midnight flame. "So he is… truly that beautiful? So beautiful the world shakes?"
"No empty words," the scholar confirmed solemnly. "If I deny it, then let lightning strike my tongue."
"And where… is Shenyan Hall? How far from Southern Chu?"
"Far, very far." Bitterness tinged his voice. "Had fate not taken me to the borders that day, I might never have seen him."
Zhu Zhuqing bit her lip, emotion rippling. "Then… I cannot see him myself?"
Her guardian frowned. "Miss, such thoughts are dangerous. You are engaged already, to the Star Luo prince Davis."
Her hand trembled slightly. Yet her eyes, though young, carried extraordinary precocious pain. "Uncle… is my life not already decided? My sister beloved, I discarded? Engaged at ten years old to a licentious prince—I am a chess piece, not a child!"
Her voice cracked. "Do I not deserve freedom? Do I not deserve to live as myself?"
The room froze. Both the old servant and young scholar stared, hearts twisting at her raw agony.
The Counsellor's Plan
The scholar exhaled heavily. "Miss, forgive my bluntness. But there is one broken path—one way to escape fate."
Zhu Zhuqing straightened instantly, bowing. "Please tell me."
"This marriage," he explained gravely, "is chains that bind the Zhu family to the royal line. You cannot sever it yourself. Davis will walk his bloody path with Dai Mubai, his rival brother. The Zhu sisters are merely pieces on their board."
Her face grew firmer with each word.
"But." He leaned closer, voice lowering. "There exists Shenyan Hall. An independent power. Backed secretly by Wuhun Hall, yet favored by others as well. Subei has gathered prodigious women into his Tianjiao class before, and will again. Your talent and beauty could secure a place, if you seize courage."
"You mean… I should join him?"
"Yes." The scholar nodded. "Not to 'visit, dazzled like prey.' To join, of your own will. That is the difference between forced sheep and chosen wolf."
Her golden eyes flickered, torn between dread and rising fire.
Resolve
The old servant frowned deeply. "Nonsense! Entrust Miss Zhu into another man's Hall? What is this except climbing from one cage into another?! Is it not tiger's den after wolf's pit?"
But Zhu Zhuqing shook her head gently, voice crystalline but steel beneath. "Uncle, my heart already knows. Fate will not chain me. If the Zhu family deems me sacrifice, then I shall carve my own salvation. If Shenyan Hall is not haven, then it shall be my battlefield."
Her small fists clenched. In those trembling fingers burned the determination of someone unwilling to remain fodder.
"Good." The scholar smiled faintly. "Your resolve centers you, Miss. Then let me aid. Within one or two years, Shenyan Hall will recruit openly. At that time, I shall guide you. And then… you will see him for yourself."
Zhu Zhuqing's breath shuddered, half terror, half anticipation. "Him… so beautiful that all shadows vanish? If he is truly such… then perhaps—perhaps my freedom lies there."
And with youthful yet unyielding will, she whispered: "Qing'er will change her fate. From today onward."
The old man looked upon the young girl, sadness in his wrinkled eyes. "Miss… may gods bless you. May you find strength where the family gave you none."
That night, in Xingchu's modest district, the winds carried still the rumors of Subei—the divine child hall master whose face shattered hearts. But within the quiet Zhu residence, one frail girl clenched new resolve.
A butterfly beat its wings.
And the course of two empires began, slowly, to bend.
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