Chapter 59: The Pretty Face Behind the Curtain

Palace gossip had seasons.

Some weeks were scandalous. Some were romantic. Some were slow burns about who sneezed in front of which noble.

Today?

Today was a ranking day.

I was sipping the barley tea Xiaohua insisted would bring "inner balance"—though it tasted more like boiled bark and crushed disappointment—when she burst into my quarters like a scroll on fire.

"Miss Mei Lin," she gasped, breathless and beaming. "You will not believe who's in the new Top Five!"

I blinked. "The top five what?"

She dropped dramatically onto the floor beside me. "The palace maids' unofficial Top Five Most Charming Men in the Palace list. You know—the one we all swear doesn't exist while absolutely memorizing it."

"I definitely… kinda vaguely knew it existed."

"Well, it does. And today's update hit after the morning kitchen shift. The votes are in. The people have spoken."

"Of course they have."

She leaned closer, practically vibrating. "Advisor Liu is number one, obviously."

My lips quirked. "Obviously."

"He took the crown two weeks ago. Clean sweep. Hanguang-jun's down to number three."

I raised a brow. "Lan Wangji? Third? What happened—did he stop walking in slow motion? And Ming Yu went up? How? Last Yuling told me, Lan Zhan was number one."

Xiaohua looked scandalized. "Advisor Liu got his ranking when he publicly dragged Consort Yufei to court and dumped her in front of the Queen."

I blinked. "…Okay, yeah, that's hot."

She grinned. "But wait—here's the twist."

I took another sip of tea. "There's more?"

She fanned herself. "Lord Shen Kexian is back in the palace. He's now ranked second. Just behind Advisor Liu."

I blinked. "Who?"

"You don't know who Lord Shen is?!"

I shrugged. "Nope. Should I?"

She stared at me like I had announced I was allergic to dumplings. "Tall? Dark robes? Smiles like he knows when you're going to die but isn't ready to tell you yet? Intelligence bureau? Connections everywhere? Could end a minister's career with a scroll and a blink?"

"Still nothing."

"I'm serious, Miss Mei Lin. That man could unlace his sleeves and the inner court would collapse. The only reason he hasn't ranked higher before is because he only shows up twice a year. The mystery. The power. The—"

A sharp knock cut her off.

A eunuch stood at the doorway, bowing low with practiced formality. "Consort Li Mei Lin. His Majesty requests your presence in the main palace. Immediately."

I rose to my feet. "What for?"

"He will be making a formal announcement regarding your divine training."

I blinked. "I'm sorry—training?"

But the eunuch was already retreating, silent as ever, as if dropping cryptic royal bombshells was just part of his morning routine.

Urg…not again..

The throne room was packed.

Officials lined the hall like carved statues—silk robes stiff with ceremony, fans fluttering like anxious wings. And beneath all the pageantry buzzed that particular kind of hush, the kind that only settled before something important, and possibly explosive.

I stood near the front, trying to look calm.

Internally? I was a squirrel tied to a firecracker.

Minister Chang stepped forward with a scroll in hand, clearing his throat with far too much self-importance.

"Regarding the divine training of Consort Li Mei Lin," he announced, "the current method has yielded… limited results."

Limited? My eye twitched.

"The immersion temple sessions have failed to produce the expected spiritual resonance."

Oh, you think? I wanted to shout. I only nearly froze to death, hallucinated a waterlogged monk, and had a full-blown identity crisis in a puddle—but sure. Let's go with "limited results."

The King turned his gaze on me, voice even and deliberate. "Consort Li, do you believe you've made any meaningful progress?"

I bowed slightly, keeping my voice polite. "No, Your Majesty."

I resisted the urge to tack on, Unless hypothermia counts as enlightenment, and swallowed the sarcasm like bitter tea.

The King gave a small nod, thoughtful. Then he stood.

"In that case," he said, his voice echoing through the chamber, "a new guide will be appointed to oversee your training. One with the rank, ability, and cultivation to match your potential."

He turned toward the massive doors of the hall, his voice sharp with finality:

"Lord Shen Kexian of the Imperial Communication Bureau."

Then—

The doors opened.

Not flung. Not shoved. Just a slow, perfectly timed sweep of ancient wood and gold-gilded hinges. Like the entire throne hall had been waiting for this moment. Like the wind held its breath.

And he walked in.

Lord Shen Kexian.

Robes dark as midnight ink, embroidered with silver thread so fine it shimmered like starlight against his shoulders. His hair was half-tied, the rest cascading in a smooth fall that probably had its own fan following. The silver clasp at his collar caught the light as he moved, steady and measured, like he was stepping into his own legend.

He didn't bow. Not right away. He just stood there, framed in the doorway like a living portrait—and the entire room reacted.

I kid you not—someone gasped.

A noblewoman actually dropped her fan. I heard it hit the floor with a flutter and a sigh.

Two ladies near the pillar whispered, "That's him?! He's even better than the charcoal sketch."

If Xiaohua were here, she'd faint. Probably ask him to sign a steamed bun.

As for me?

I blinked. Hard.

Because that face—

The man who caught me mid-schedule-theft at the Inner Court Bureau, hid me behind scroll racks, mocked my shoes, and disappeared like a secret in silk.

Who ran into me at the royal library—

Then handed me a handkerchief when I cried in the garden.

And now—gods help me—he was Lord Shen Kexian.

And of course—right on cue—

Wei Wuxian groaned, loud and theatrical. "Oh no. Him?"

Lan Wangji said nothing, but the faint crease between his brows spoke volumes. 

Shen Kexian stepped forward and bowed. Low. Graceful. Infuriatingly flawless.

Wei Wuxian took one measured step forward—not disrespectful, but unmistakably deliberate.

"Your Majesty," he said, voice smooth with just a hint of bite, "forgive me, but… why him?"

Every head turned toward the King.

Shen Kexian didn't flinch. He stood still, hands clasped neatly behind his back, his expression unreadable.

The King leaned forward slightly on his golden seat. "Because he is the most knowledgeable person in this court on cultivation systems, elemental discipline, and divine myth," he said simply. "He has access to records even I do not fully understand."

A few ministers murmured. Wei Wuxian's brow twitched.

Shen Kexian stepped forward, his movements precise, measured—like even the air obeyed his pace. He bowed low to the King, every thread of his robe falling into place like it had been choreographed.

"Your Majesty," he said, voice smooth as polished jade, "I accept the assignment. It will be my honor to oversee the awakening and training of Consort Li."

The King gave a satisfied nod, clearly pleased with his own announcement. Probably already imagining banners of divine prophecy unfurling over the palace gates.

And then Shen Kexian turned.

To me.

His gaze landed like the weight of a thousand unspoken secrets—steady, deliberate, and far too calm. "I told you," he said quietly, "we would meet again, Consort Li."

The room collectively gasped.

Fans fluttered. Someone whispered, "They've met?" Another hissed, "When? Where?"

A few noble ladies leaned in like they were watching the premiere of a palace romance drama.

I said nothing.

What could I say?

Hi, yes—he's helped me commit light schedule fraud, handed me an emotionally inconvenient handkerchief, and once pressed me into a scroll rack with a smirk that still gives me psychological whiplash.

I didn't blink. Didn't flinch.

But my fingers curled at my sides.

He was doing this on purpose.

From the dais, Ming Yu's eyes locked onto mine—sharp, questioning, and burning with suspicion.

You've met him before?

The flicker of jealousy behind that look was subtle. But it was there.

And just like that, I knew:

This was going to be a problem.

***

Later That Day – Private Pavilion, Prince's Quarter, Wei Wuxian collapsed into a chair like the weight of court politics had finally won. "I knew it. The second he strolled in like a verse from a tragic love ballad, I knew we were doomed."

Lan Wangji said nothing, but the faint furrow in his brow was the equivalent of a full speech from anyone else.

Ming Yu stood by the window, arms crossed, posture too still to be relaxed. His eyes were focused on nothing and everything—like he was mentally mapping out all of Shen Kexian's potential betrayals in advance.

I perched on the edge of a chaise, tea cooling in my hands. "Okay, can someone explain why the entire throne room looked like a scandal and secret just walked in wearing embroidered silk and smugness?"

Wei Wuxian gave a short laugh, all teeth and bitterness. "Because it did. Shen Kexian doesn't deal in small secrets. He collects the kind of truths that make kingdoms flinch."

I frowned. "So… he's basically a dangerously handsome filing cabinet?"

Ming Yu exhaled sharply through his nose. Not quite a laugh. Not quite amused.

Wei Wuxian, on the other hand, looked far too delighted. "Exactly! And I'll bet my favorite sword he already knows about me and Lan Zhan."

Lan Wangji didn't move, but his gaze cooled a shade. Wei Wuxian shrugged, unapologetic.

"I mean, come on. He runs the Imperial Communications Bureau. You think he doesn't know? He probably has a scroll labeled 'Wei Wuxian's Terrible Life Choices' tucked behind his pillow."

"Why is he only here twice a year?" I asked, still trying to keep up.

Ming Yu's voice cut in—low, composed, but edged with steel. "Because no one controls him. Not the Queen. Not the ministers. Not even the King."

Wei Wuxian leaned back, swirling the last of his tea. "He doesn't take bribes. Doesn't trade favors. Doesn't care about flattery. And that, dear Consort," he said, gesturing at me with his cup, "makes him the most dangerous man in the palace."

I let that settle in. The unease. The truth.

Ming Yu added quietly, "The King keeps him just close enough to use… but never close enough to trust."

I looked between them. "And he's… also a cultivator?"

Wei Wuxian grimaced. "Unfortunately, yes. Not as good as us, of course." He glanced at Lan Wangji.

Ming Yu finally looked at me. His voice was quiet, but his words didn't soften. "And now he's been assigned to train you."

I set my cup down. My heartbeat ticked louder than it had any right to.

"You think that's bad?" I said, quiet but clear. "I've only met him a few times. Didn't exactly scream lethal."

Ming Yu didn't move.

But the air did.

Like it tightened around us, holding its breath.

"How many times?" he asked, low and deliberate. Not demanding. Just… steady. And far too calm.

Across the room, Lan Wangji glanced at Ming Yu, then at me.

He didn't speak but he didn't have to.

After a beat, he set his tea down with graceful finality and stood. "Wei Ying."

Wei Wuxian blinked. "Oh. Yes. Right." He stood too, tugging his sleeves. "I think I left my flute… somewhere… possibly in another dynasty."

Before I could protest, the door had quietly shut behind them.

Cowards.

"Ming Yu—"

"Don't deflect," he said, his voice tight. "Just tell me."

I looked at him. At the way his posture had locked into something too still. At the quiet flicker in his eyes that wasn't quite anger, but something that cut just as deep.

I exhaled. "The first time was at the Inner Court Bureau. I didn't know who he was. I was trying to—" I winced. "—steal Yufei's schedule. He caught me. Then helped me hide."

Ming Yu's jaw flexed, but he didn't interrupt.

"The second time was in the royal library. I was researching a pregnancy related scroll for Yuling. He appeared again. Talked for a bit. Left."

Silence.

"And the third…" My voice dipped. "It was in the garden. I was crying. After Yuling reunited with her grandmother. He found me. Gave me a handkerchief."

I paused. "I didn't know he was Lord Shen. Not until today."

He turned fully now, facing me.

"You met him three times," he said, every word too careful, "and never told me."

I took a tentative step forward. "I didn't think it mattered. He never told me his name."

"But you knew he wasn't just some passing noble, didn't you?" The hurt in his voice cracked through the calm.

I didn't answer.

I didn't need to.

He stared at me like he was trying to map out the pieces I'd kept from him—and whether they changed the picture.

His voice turned quieter. Harder. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought it was nothing," I said. "He kept disappearing. I didn't want to sound paranoid or say, 'Hey, this mysterious man keeps showing up smelling like sandalwood and unresolved plot tension.'"

His jaw clenched. "And what else?"

This was it.

The moment I should tell him about the ache—the tug in my chest, the pulse that didn't belong to me when Lord Shen was near.

But I couldn't.

Not when Ming Yu stood there like he wasn't sure whether to step back or hold me tighter.

So I lied.

Or… half-lied.

"Every time I see him," I said softly, "I get a headache, sharp, sudden then it fades."

His expression shifted.

The fire in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something far worse—worry.

"You get headaches?" he asked, stepping closer.

"Only around him. I don't know why."

He reached out gently, cupping my face with both hands like I might shatter under the weight of truth.

"Why didn't you tell me that first?"

"I didn't want you to worry."

"Well," he murmured, brushing his thumb across my cheek, "too late for that."

And just like that—his anger unraveled.

But the guilt inside me stayed knotted.

"You've been through too much," Ming Yu said quietly. "You should rest. No one knows what they'll put you through next… especially now that he's your trainer."

I nodded, though the heaviness in my chest didn't ease.

He lingered for a breath longer—like he wanted to say something but couldn't.

Then he turned and walked away.

And I stood there, heart aching for all the things I still couldn't say.