13: Embers of the Banquet · A Father and Son in Quiet Conversation

Candlelight flickered softly in the study, casting warm shadows across the walls. The silence was deep, broken only by the faint crackling of melting wax.

Xiao Zhengyu sat before the desk, his fingers slowly gliding over the blade of a sword, polishing it inch by inch. His movements were unhurried, his expression steady and unreadable.

The grand banquet had ended in splendor—envoys from across the realm smiling in pleasantries, hidden agendas laced behind every toast. Yet he knew well: the true game of power had only just begun.

A soft knock sounded at the door. Moments later, a servant's voice followed in a quiet tone:

"Your Highness, Master Zhang seeks an audience."

Xiao Zhengyu's eyes flicked slightly, but he did not respond at once. Only when he had polished the final edge of the blade did he speak, his voice low and calm.

"Let him in."

The door eased open, and Zhang Zexiang stepped into the room, his robe carrying the faint chill of the night breeze. His eyes landed briefly on the gleaming sword resting atop the desk. A faint smile curved his lips.

"Your Highness appears quite at ease. Did nothing strike you as unusual during the banquet?"

Xiao Zhengyu's hand didn't pause. He finished the final stroke across the blade and replied with quiet weight,

"What do you think?"

Zhang raised a brow, settling into the seat beside him. He poured himself a cup of tea, his tone casual but knowing.

"There were oddities. More than one."

At last, Xiao Zhengyu sheathed the sword and looked toward him, giving a slight nod for him to continue.

"The Northern Di girl," Zhang said, pausing thoughtfully. "Her words were flawless, her dance mesmerizing—but her bearing revealed the training of a martial artist. And her music beneath the moon… far too laced with a killing edge to belong to an ordinary noblewoman."

Xiao Zhengyu responded only with a low hum, betraying neither surprise nor denial.

Zhang's brows lifted slightly. "You noticed already?"

Xiao Zhengyu tapped a finger lightly against the hilt of his sword. After a moment of silence, he said quietly,

"She is… not without suspicion."

Zhang narrowed his eyes, thoughtful.

"Is she truly just the daughter of Northern Di's Chancellor?"

The prince did not answer directly. His gaze deepened, lips curling faintly.

"Perhaps."

Silence settled between them, until Zhang suddenly looked over with a knowing glint in his eye.

"It's rare to see Your Highness take such interest in a woman."

Xiao Zhengyu gave a slight smile. His tone remained level.

"Curiosity. Nothing more."

Zhang laughed softly and drained his tea. "Then what does Your Highness plan to do?"

Xiao Zhengyu's fingers traced the hilt once more, his eyes unreadable.

"Watch. And wait."

The wind whispered past the windows, causing the candlelight to waver. Their expressions remained calm—but beneath that calm, a silent storm was already gathering.

Deep within the palace walls, silence stretched into the night. Crimson palace gates stood tall beneath the moonlight, casting long, solemn shadows. The air carried the weight of Great Yan's imperial dignity.

Though seven days had passed since the state banquet, its ripples had yet to fade. On court, debates still stirred over treaties and envoy negotiations. Yet tonight, the Emperor summoned Xiao Zhengyu—not for matters of state, but for something far more personal.

When Xiao Zhengyu entered the imperial study, he bowed respectfully.

The Emperor sat behind his desk, dressed in flowing dragon robes. His fingers idly traced the edge of a bamboo scroll, his gaze calm, yet deep.

"Zhengyu," he said quietly. "What are your thoughts on the banquet?"

His tone was even, lacking royal sternness. It was the voice of a father seeking honest reflection.

Xiao Zhengyu nodded slightly.

"The envoys spoke with courtesy, but each harbored their own intentions. Northern Di tested our border defenses. Western Rong smiled in peace, yet their interest in the south was clear. Southern Man offered friendship, but watch us carefully, waiting for our stance on the north. As for the court ministers, they, too, used the occasion to gauge the shifting tides."

The Emperor chuckled softly, a look of quiet approval in his eyes.

"Sharp as ever."

He set the scroll aside, his gaze falling directly on his son.

"You've served me well these past years—steady, thorough, reliable. But you are now twenty-one. Have you given any thought… to your marriage?"

Xiao Zhengyu's expression shifted ever so slightly, but remained composed.

"I place the affairs of state before my own, and have not entertained such thoughts."

The Emperor's smile turned faintly amused.

"National affairs are indeed weighty. I know your heart lies with the realm. But marriage is not a trifling matter. The court speaks. The guests know. Even your mother has raised the issue recently."

Xiao Zhengyu lowered his gaze briefly. After a pause, he replied evenly,

"I have no one in mind."

The Emperor's eyes sharpened slightly.

"Is that so?"

Xiao Zhengyu lifted his eyes, steady as ever.

"I have no intention to marry. Not for now."

The Emperor looked at him, searching.

But Xiao Zhengyu was unreadable—as he always had been. Calm. Composed. As if nothing could stir the surface of his thoughts.

At length, the Emperor sighed softly. His voice dropped, laced with something gentler.

"Back then, your engagement to the Princess of Xiliang was a diplomatic bond, forged for peace. It was arranged by the Empress Dowager herself. She and the Xiliang Queen were kin. Our border then was unstable—raids frequent. The engagement was meant to anchor an alliance."

He paused.

A flicker of solemnity passed through his eyes.

"But the Empress Dowager has since passed. And the princess…"

Xiao Zhengyu's fingers twitched faintly.

The Emperor did not say "deceased." He let the sentence hang, his tone light, yet probing.

"If she were still alive, she'd be of marriageable age now."

Candlelight flickered across the jade tiles. The room was silent, save for the faint crackle of flame.

Xiao Zhengyu's expression remained unchanged. He neither denied nor confirmed. He simply stood, still and silent.

The Emperor gazed at him for a long moment, then let out a quiet breath.

"As you wish. I won't press the matter. But remember, Zhengyu—whether for the nation or for yourself… marriage is not a matter to be taken lightly."

"…Yes, Your Majesty," Xiao Zhengyu replied, bowing low.

The Emperor studied him once more, but said no more.

"You may go."

Xiao Zhengyu bowed again and turned to leave.

As he stepped out into the night, a cool breeze brushed his sleeve. His expression remained placid, untouched—like water that held no reflection of the storm beneath.

But no matter how composed he remained, he could not escape his father's silent scrutiny.

Within the imperial study, the Emperor stood alone beneath the swaying light, eyes fixed in the distance—lost in thought.