Spring's light fell gently across the rooftops of the capital, but inside Bai Jue's mortal shell, a storm brewed.
Every morning now, Yang Mi dressed in quiet grace and left the Bai Mansion without saying a word to her husband. And every morning, Bai Jue, future ruler of the heavens, disguised as a powerless mortal, trailed behind her like a lovesick servant.
She always went to the same place: the Everleaf Tea House.
And she always met Ren.
A soft-voiced man with sharp eyes and gentle smiles, who had slowly—dangerously—become a part of her routine.
What Yang Mi didn't know, and what made Bai Jue grit his teeth into powdered stone, was that Ren was no ordinary man. He was the Emperor, walking in disguise. And worse, he was falling in love with her.
But Ren never said a word about it.
He simply sipped tea, shared pastries, and asked her about books, about the color of the clouds, about how she liked her lotus seed buns.
All while pretending he was nobody.
And that's what drove Bai Jue mad.
Not just jealousy—but powerlessness.
In truth, Ren had only intended to visit the Everleaf Tea House once.
It had been flagged by his younger brother Yu, who was investigating Counselor Su's illegal trade network. The Counselor—believed to be one of the most loyal ministers of the court—was quietly moving weapons and precious items from Nanlyu, a rival kingdom preparing for war. Gold, silk, iron—enough to fund treason.
And the Everleaf Tea House, nestled near the river trade route, was one of his key fronts.
Ren, posing as a common noble, came to inspect it for signs.
But then he met her.
Yang Mi, smiling softly while nibbling on sesame cake.
She reminded him of something he couldn't define—peace, perhaps, or a life untouched by palace bloodshed. He began returning not as an emperor, but as a man drawn by quiet beauty.
And though his brother Yu stayed in the shadows, observing hidden storerooms and secret deliveries, Ren chose to sit across from Yang Mi, memorizing how she stirred her tea and never asking why her smile seemed lonelier by the day.
Meanwhile, Bai Jue was unravelling.
"Has she smiled at him again today?" he barked at Da Yi, who had just returned from another 'market errand.'
"Yes, my lord. She… she also complimented his handwriting."
Bai Jue clutched his robes. "His handwriting. His handwriting! Next, she'll be admiring his shoelaces."
Chang Er sighed from a corner of the courtyard. "Why don't you just confess your feelings properly? You're already living like a henpecked mortal husband."
"I am not henpecked," Bai Jue snapped, then deflated. "I'm just… selectively submissive."
Pei Yuan chuckled. "You've brewed enough vinegar to pickle the whole kingdom."
"I need a plan," Bai Jue muttered. "Ren is too smooth. I need to win her back."
He turned to Da Yi. "Arrange a lilac viewing walk for her. Tell the chef to make that tofu dish she likes—no scallions. She hates scallions. And someone send her a silk fan with peach blossoms."
"What shall I write on the fan, my lord?"
Bai Jue's eyes narrowed. "Write: 'A storm may shake the heavens, but my heart belongs only to you.' Sign it… anonymously."
The confrontation came three days later at a formal gathering.
Yang Mi's cousin invited her to a royal ladies' garden luncheon, where noblewomen displayed their wit, grace, and wealth. Yang Mi hesitated but went—partly to please her cousin, partly to distract herself from the confusing emotions surrounding her silent husband and her polite tea companion.
Among the guests was Su Er Rong, the daughter of Counselor Su.
She had never met Yang Mi before, but word had already reached her: the woman staying in Lord Bai's mansion. The one rumored to be his wife.
Su Er Rong, with her pride sharpened like a jeweled dagger, walked directly toward Yang Mi as she admired the lilies.
"What a bold little flower," she said sweetly. "You don't look like you belong here."
Yang Mi looked up, blinking. "I was invited."
"Oh, I'm sure you were," Su Er Rong replied, tilting her head. "Some pets are brought out for amusement."
The noblewomen nearby giggled under painted fans.
Yang Mi inhaled slowly. "I don't seek to impress anyone."
"No," Su Er Rong stepped closer. "You simply seduce your way into rich men's homes."
That struck like a slap.
"Have you ever wondered," Su Er Rong continued, "why a powerful man like Lord Bai would keep a quiet, poor woman like you? Men get bored, you know. They always return to those of their own rank."
Before Yang Mi could reply—
"I never left her."
The voice silenced the garden.
Bai Jue stood behind them, tall and commanding, dressed in a dark robe that clung to his broad shoulders. His eyes were fixed on Su Er Rong—not with anger, but with pure contempt.
"Yang Mi is my wife," he said. "She needs no status to outshine the likes of you."
Gasps followed. Su Er Rong's cheeks turned red with humiliation.
Yang Mi stared at Bai Jue as he walked toward her.
She didn't say a word.
He offered his hand.
For a long moment, she didn't move.
Then… slowly… she placed her fingers in his.
And Bai Jue let out a breath like a man being pulled back from the edge of ruin.
That night, in the quiet garden of the Bai Mansion, Yang Mi sat beside a lantern, staring at a peach blossom fan.
She didn't ask who sent it.
She didn't ask why Bai Jue appeared.
She only said softly, "Why do you care so much what others think of me?"
He sat beside her.
"I don't," he murmured. "I only care what you think of me."