From Zhuge Su Yeon's Perspective
For a moment, I wanted to jump up from my seat and cheer.
My savior had finally arrived.
The dining hall doors swung open — and in walked Han Song Lin.
The most dazzling of all my stepmothers, and at this moment, that was exactly how she appeared to me.
With every step she took, the air itself seemed to adjust to her presence. Her crimson robe, interwoven with golden threads and phoenix-wing patterns, rippled with the precision of a controlled flame. Upon her shoulders rested light bronze spiritual armor, reflecting the torchlight — shaping her between power and grace.
Her black hair, tied high, cascaded in long strands that swayed like dark ribbons in the wind.
A golden crown adorned with a deep-blue jade stone gleamed atop her head, while long earrings hung like drops of light.
Her face was the embodiment of composure — beauty and authority in perfect harmony.
Her eyes, sharp and tinged with gold at the edges, carried that glint capable of silencing even generals.
There was a blend of discipline and allure in her expression — the look of a woman who had learned to command both hearts and armies.
Han Song Lin didn't need to say a single word for me to understand why she was here.
Just one glance was enough.
The stiffness of her posture.
The measured rhythm of her steps.
The way the guards at the entrance lowered their heads without her uttering a sound.
It all pointed to one thing.
"So… they've arrived?" I asked, turning my head toward her, still holding my chopsticks.
She nodded, then replied in a calm but ice-sharp voice:
"Lady Zhu stopped them at the castle gates, but the situation may become completely unsustainable soon.
Shall I alert Lady Yu and Lady Shin?"
I shook my head.
"That won't be necessary. I'll meet them personally."
I brought the last piece of spiritual chicken to my mouth, chewing slowly, savoring every fiber as though I had all the time in the world.
The sooner I settled this matter with the Shu Clan, the sooner I could have my peace back.
It wasn't the kind of problem one should postpone — and to be honest, I was never a fan of leaving debts unpaid, especially the kind involving blood and power.
So I stood, ready to follow Lady Han to the castle gates.
Or at least, that's what I thought I'd do.
Because before I could take two steps, my mother — Jiang Ru Lei — moved in front of me.
"You can't receive anyone dressed like that. It would be utterly inappropriate," she said, with that tone of voice even destiny itself wouldn't dare oppose.
Her expression was firm, her gaze fixed on me as if I were a child about to run into the snow without a coat.
And, of course, Su Lan — my sister and second-in-command in the natural resistance against all my decisions — decided to join the maternal crusade.
"Mother's right. Protocols must be followed."
I had almost forgotten what I was wearing.
In my defense, it was just simple clothing — comfortable, fit for breakfast, not for an imperial reception.
I hadn't expected the Shu Clan to be so impatient that they couldn't wait until lunch to pursue their ambitions.
Still, I couldn't entirely disapprove.
Resolving the matter quickly was also in my best interest.
I opened my mouth to object, already forming the flawless argument that an emperor didn't need fine clothes to crush his opponents — but before I could finish the thought, the third member of my morning inquisition finally decided to speak.
Bai Xuan Hua.
She rose with that practiced grace of hers, her blue-and-white dress flowing behind her like incense smoke, and said with a smile that blended authority and charm:
"Come. I'll help you change."
And before I could protest, her hand had already grasped my wrist — gentle, yet firm enough to drag me out of the room.
As for me?
I simply let her.
This wasn't the kind of offer one refused.
The Shu would have to wait.
Her expression — my beautiful fiancée's expression — was something I hadn't seen in a long time.
So long, in fact, that for a moment, I almost forgot she was capable of wearing such a look.
Anxiety.
Concern.
Perhaps, among everyone around me, she was the most worried about the situation with the Shu Clan.
My mother, my sisters, my family — none of them knew my secrets.
The magnificent scoundrel, my imperial father, had made that very clear: "An emperor needs a few secrets — otherwise, life loses its flavor."
At the time, I wasn't sure whether he was being serious or simply passing on one of his many flirtation techniques.
But I followed his advice.
And I hid myself.
After all, a well-kept secret is more useful than an entire army.
Even so, my family knew me.
They didn't need to know what I was hiding to understand who I was.
Maybe I was the most cautious among them — some would say the most fearful.
But you see… I was also the only one who had tasted death.
And I can tell you — it's not a pleasant experience.
It's not something I intend to repeat.
That's why, if I remained calm, they remained calm.
It was simple logic: as long as I appeared composed, everything was under control.
If I ever showed distress… then the empire truly had a problem.
That was my way of protecting them.
But my little fiancée — the girl betrothed to me since childhood — still hadn't quite learned to read that side of me.
And that was exactly what shaped the expression on her face now.
Worry.
Tension.
A slight furrow of her brows.
So adorably worried that I almost wanted to pinch her cheeks right then and there.
But I knew the price of such boldness — a flurry of pinches in return, likely accompanied by a long lecture on imperial dignity and public respect.
Even so, it was hard not to smile inwardly at the sight of her.
She walked ahead of me, lightly holding my sleeve as we moved through the corridors leading to the royal chambers.
Her blue-and-white robe swayed like foam in the wind; her silver hair cascaded in soft waves down her back, and her eyes — usually sharp — were now softened by the glow of fear and expectation.
I could feel the warmth of her hand through the fabric — a small, almost childlike touch, disguised beneath the composure of a future empress.
That contrast — a fierce woman, yet fragile in her worry — was something only I could see.
And perhaps that's why, even beneath the weight of secrets, battles, and responsibilities,
a corner of my heart remained light.