Chapter 10: The Wine and the Watcher

The Imperial Orchid Hall glittered under soft lantern light. Banners of ivory and crimson swayed lightly from the rafters, catching the scent of jasmine, plum wine, spiced lychee broth, and roasted chestnuts glazed in honey. Gilded tables brimmed with lacquered duck, lotus root in honey glaze, minced lamb dumplings folded like koi fish, chilled persimmon wine, and delicate fruit pastries carved like peonies. Every noble, minister, and court favorite had gathered beneath the gold-tiled roof—cloaked in silk, perfumed, and expectant.

But no one entered like her.

Lin Ruoyi walked into the hall with her father. Behind her came her brother Lin Ruochen and two other senior officers. It wasn't an entourage. It was a declaration: she didn't walk alone.

She wore a robe of deep violet fading into shadowed black—the shade of dusk before a storm. The Night Orchid silk clung to her form without apology, embroidered with silver-edged flowers that shimmered when she moved. Her high collar was swept back into sharp wings around her neck, baring her collarbones and shoulders like a war goddess on holiday.

Her hair was pinned high, twisted with obsidian and violet glass combs. A single silver tassel brushed the nape of her neck. Everyone felt dazed—as if watching a goddess.

Noble daughters in pale gowns whispered behind fluttering fans. Servants exchanged looks. Some idolized her. Others feared her. And a few—the ones who saw her not as a general, but as a woman who refused to shrink—envied her like she was a second sun.

"I heard soldiers on the border call her a nine-tailed fox. Beautiful, but dangerous."

"She turned down the Crown Prince twice. Who does that?"

"She's dangerous."

"She's a boor. She doesn't follow etiquette."

"She's a problem."

"You're just envious. She's beauty and power, both."

Some whispered about Si Yue. "He's more beautiful than any prince I've seen." Others muttered about Yan Xuan. "Handsome—but cursed. That scar is bad luck."

Ruoyi heard every word. And gave not a single one of them her attention.

One of Ruoyi's friends approached her and the two exchanged a few warm words. It grounded her.

From across the hall, Si Yue's gaze tracked her. He sipped his wine slowly, silver hair shining under candlelight, a bemused smile touching his lips.

He rose from his seat and met her halfway with the smoothness of silk, stopping just at a respectable distance.

"Your fans are louder than mine tonight," he said dryly.

"Because you don't terrify the court like I do."

"That's only because I haven't worn a whip in public. Should I try?"

A real laugh escaped her lips—soft, short, and almost surprised. She didn't expect that from him. Si Yue looked pleased.

Then came the shift in air.

Yan Xuan entered.

He wore a robe of midnight silk edged in phoenix-gold. His collar open, chest subtly defined under the inner layer. mask made of gold tonight. His hair was loosely tied, a few strands falling over his forehead in deliberate imperfection.

Noble ladies nearly swooned.

"He's... gorgeous."

"Cursed. Don't forget that."

"I'd risk it."

He exchanged brief, courteous words with several Liang ministers. And then—

The hall went still.

The Crown Prince and the Emperor had arrived.

The Emperor wore ceremonial robes of sable and sun-gold, his bearing a little heavier than last year but still noble. At his side, the Crown Prince walked in crimson and silver, tall and unreadable.

His gaze found Ruoyi immediately. And lingered.

The Emperor gave a subtle nod. "Let the banquet begin."

And it did.

Cups filled. Platters passed. Laughter bloomed around wine-stained lips.

Yan Xuan raised his cup first to the Emperor.

"To His Majesty of Liang," he said, voice cool and controlled. "May this hall echo with peace before it hears war again."

Polite applause followed. He toasted to the Crown Prince, the royal court, and the gathered ministers.

Then he turned toward Ruoyi.

"And to General Ruoyi," he said, his voice silkier now, lower." Who looks more beautiful than the moon tonight."

Ruoyi lifted her cup.

"To the Prince of Yan," she said, eyes steady, "whose flattery is more dangerous than his blade, and just as sharp."

He smirked. "Let's hope you never test which cuts deeper."

Then a noble girl—daughter of Duke Wen—rose and approached Yan Xuan. She laughed lightly and said, "If I were in General Lin's place, I would've agreed to marry you a hundred times already. What an honor, to serve the nation and be married to such...handsomeness. Some of us weren't built just to fight."

The court stirred.

Yan Xuan didn't even glance at her.

"If you were in her place," he said flatly, "you would have never caught my attention."

Si Yue raised his cup without looking up. " I agree."

The girl paled. Ruoyi sipped her wine.

Some gasped, some laughed, some got hurt.

By the second course, Ruoyi had excused herself.

She stepped into the side garden of white blossom trees and red gravel paths, breathing in the cold night air.

She wasn't alone for long.

Footsteps followed. Familiar, unhurried.

"You run from compliments as fast as you run from proposals," Yan Xuan said behind her.

"I needed quiet."

He joined her, hands behind his back, dressed tonight in midnight blue with copper embroidery—simple, but no less striking. The scars along his neck were visible in the moonlight, the faintest shimmer of an old burn.

"You're not used to being looked at," he said.

"I'm used to being judged."

He tilted his head. "They don't know what to do with a woman who carries power like perfume."

She raised a brow. "And you do?"

"I know exactly what to do with you," he said.

She stepped back—but her foot caught on the stone path. She slipped slightly.

He caught her, hands firm on her waist, steadying her.

They didn't move.

"You don't belong to them," he murmured. "To those whispering fools. To that cold room. You were never theirs to begin with."

He was so close they could hear each other's breath. But his mask fell. She saw but gave no reaction still the same. He was shocked that she haven't reacted. He wore the mask again.

Ruoyi held his gaze.

"And you think I'd belong to you?"

"You belong to yourself," he said. "I just want to stand beside you. And maybe—watch the world go quiet when you walk in."

Her heart kicked. Damn him.

Before she could speak—

A movement.

From the archway at the end of the garden.

The Crown Prince stood there, wine cup in hand, expression unreadable.

Watching.

He had not interrupted. Not yet.

But he had seen everything.

Before leaving she said, "Why keep the mask on? You look better without it."

And Yan Xuan just watched her walk away—like he wasn't sure if he'd just won something... or lost something far more dangerous.