After Xiao Yuhuang spied on the Empress dancing on that rainy night, the days in the Prime Minister's residence appeared calm on the surface, yet beneath, they were like a bowstring drawn taut to the breaking point.
Father was deeply worried about my "breach of decorum" that day, yet he could not press me for details. All he could do was repeatedly admonish me to watch my words and actions and to refrain from leaving my courtyard unless absolutely necessary. Mother seemed to sense something amiss as well; the servants assigned to my courtyard became noticeably more cautious, and even Chunyu was privately questioned several times.
As for me, I buried myself even deeper in the study. I could not bring myself to read medical texts, nor did I have the heart to assemble models. Most of the time, I simply stared blankly at the increasingly desolate courtyard outside the window. The final look Xiao Yuhuang gave me was like a branding iron, searing me with restless unease day and night. It was not mere astonishment or curiosity; it was the undisguised possessiveness of someone who had already marked their prey. That realization felt both absurd and chilling, filling me with a cold sense of having nowhere to escape.
There was, for the time being, no movement from the Eighth Imperial Daughter's side. Perhaps matters in the northern borderlands had consumed all her attention, or perhaps her declaration of a "life-saving debt" was itself a posture of waiting for a response.
Amid this strange calm before the storm, a thunderclap suddenly exploded—
That morning, before I had even risen, I was jolted awake by hurried, chaotic footsteps outside the courtyard. Immediately after, Father nearly stumbled as he burst into my room, his face ashen, clutching a gilded invitation card so tightly his trembling fingers could barely hold it.
"Yuzhi… Yuzhi!" His voice was hoarse, his eyes filled with immense terror. "Something's happened… something terrible has happened!"
"Father, speak slowly. What is it?" My heart sank as I propped myself up.
Father thrust the card before my eyes. The gilded imperial crest stabbed painfully into my vision. It was stationery reserved for the Palace Internal Affairs Bureau.
"The palace… the palace just sent word…" Father's voice shattered. "His Majesty… His Majesty intends to… grant you in marriage to the First Imperial Daughter, to be her principal consort!"
With a loud buzz, my ears rang, as if all sound had instantly receded into the distance.
Granted in marriage? To the First Imperial Daughter, Xiao Lintian?
That woman nearly ten years my senior, deep and unfathomable, already surrounded by countless sons of noble families, side consorts, and attendant consorts? The Crown Princess who stood irreconcilably opposed to the Eighth Imperial Daughter at court, and who was all but a stranger to Xiao Yuhuang?
"Is the news… certain?" My voice was unbearably dry.
"It was delivered personally by Aunt Yan, Her Majesty the Empress's most trusted attendant!" Father collapsed onto the stool by my bed, as if all his strength had been drained. "Though the edict has not yet been formally issued, Aunt Yan hinted that His Majesty has already made up his mind and will soon inquire after the Su family's stance. This… this is notification, not consultation!"
Indeed. A royal betrothal, especially one involving the principal consort of an imperial daughter, was hardly something a minister's family could contest. The so-called "inquiry" was nothing more than a formality.
"Why… why me?" I heard myself ask, my voice drifting.
"Why not you?" Father let out a bitter laugh, his eyes filled with bleak understanding. "You are the only son of Prime Minister Su, unmatched in appearance and talent throughout the capital. Your frail health… has instead become an advantage, something easily controlled. Marrying you means binding the Su family, binding your mother's influence and spotless reputation at court, firmly to the First Imperial Daughter's war chariot. This is an open stratagem, Yuzhi. This is His Majesty paving the way for the Crown Princess, and also… checking the Eighth Highness's recently overbearing edge!"
Politics. Always politics.
I had become the most conspicuous piece on the chessboard—priceless in value, yet utterly without autonomy.
The familiar tightness in my chest flared sharply. I bent forward, coughing violently, one wrenching cough after another. Father hurriedly patted my back, calling for water and medicine, his eyes brimming with pain and despair.
The entire Prime Minister's residence was shrouded in heavy gloom that day. After court, Mother rushed back home and conferred behind closed doors with Grandmother for a long while. When they emerged, both wore grave expressions. Mother's gaze toward me was impossibly complex—resignation as a court official, anguish as a mother—until it finally dissolved into a long, weary sigh.
"The imperial will cannot be defied," she said, and nothing more.
The imperial will cannot be defied. Four simple words, and my entire life was decided.
That night, I dismissed everyone and sat alone in the pitch-dark room. Outside the window, there was no moon, only the howling of the bitter northern wind, sweeping up dead branches and producing a sound like muffled sobbing.
A betrothal to the First Imperial Daughter… what did it mean?
It meant I would be locked into a deeper, more splendid cage within the Eastern Palace, becoming a decorative "Jade Gentleman" for the Crown Princess, playing the role of a gentle, virtuous, harmless principal consort under the scrutiny of countless watching eyes. It meant being dragged wholly into the vortex at the heart of the succession struggle, becoming a crucial bargaining chip for Xiao Lintian against Xiao Linyue and the other imperial daughters. It also meant that whatever had yet to begin between Xiao Yuhuang and me would be brutally severed and crushed.
When I thought of Xiao Yuhuang, something in my chest stabbed sharply with pain.
What would she do? Upon learning this news, would a more terrifying storm ignite in those silent eyes, or would they sink into a dead, icy wasteland?
I did not know.
All I knew was that a fierce unwillingness blazed madly in my chest like a wildfire. Why? Why must my life be manipulated time and again by others? I had crossed into this world, trapped in a sickly body, bound by ritual and propriety, and now even my marriage—my entire remaining life—was to become a sacrificial offering in a political game?
I did not know how long I sat there. Only when my hands and feet had gone icy did I rise in a daze, push open the door, and step into the knife-sharp cold of the courtyard.
I did not summon a maid. I simply wandered aimlessly, passing through familiar corridors, circling artificial rockeries, until without realizing it, I arrived at the deepest part of the residence's rear garden. There was a small plum grove here, planted long ago by Grandmother for Grandfather, who loved plum blossoms. Few people came here on ordinary days.
There was no moon that night, only scattered wind lamps beneath the eaves casting dim light. The plum branches were gnarled and swaying in the wind, most of them still bare, with only a few early buds, indistinct in the darkness.
I stopped beneath an old plum tree and lifted my head toward the black lattice of branches. The icy air pierced deep into my lungs, bringing pain, yet also a clarity bordering on self-torment.
Then—
"Crack."
An extremely faint sound of a dry branch snapping came from the shadows behind me.
My entire body stiffened as I spun around.
From beneath the dark silhouettes of the plum trees, a figure slowly emerged.
A dark teal cloak wrapped around a lean, upright form. The hood obscured most of the face, revealing only a sharply defined jaw and tightly pressed lips. She walked toward me step by step, her pace steady, yet carrying a suppressed, hell-born aura.
It was Xiao Yuhuang.
How could she be here? This was the inner courtyard of the Prime Minister's residence. How had she gotten in? Where were the guards?
Countless questions surged through my mind, only to choke in my throat the moment she lowered her hood.
The dim lamplight illuminated her face. It was still that refined, pale countenance, but her eyes… I had never seen eyes like those. No longer a silent, ancient well, nor the stunned obsession from that rain-soaked night, but eyes burning with something nearly destructive—deep, searing, obsessive, carrying the resolve of someone staking everything on a single throw, locking onto me with unyielding focus.
She stopped before me, so close that I could feel the night's chill clinging to her, and beneath that ice, the surging magma threatening to burst forth.
"You know already," she said, her voice low and hoarse. It was not a question, but a statement.
My throat tightened. I nodded.