Every prince in the Empire had his charm, but only one person managed to draw them all to a single flame—Hua Lian.
All, except: the Crown Prince, Li Yuyan.
The other princes made no effort to hide their admiration. They visited Li Yuyan's quarters often, but it was not their brother they came to see. Their eyes were fixed on her—the quiet, beautiful maid who had unknowingly ensnared their hearts.
Prince Li Wenjin, soft-spoken and poetic, left verses of praise for her to find. Though unsigned, the calligraphy was unmistakably his. He even planted a magnolia tree near her quarters—a symbol of purity and devotion. During one festival, he filled the night sky with floating lanterns carrying wishes for her happiness.
Prince Li Mingzhao, fiery and elegant, composed songs to suit her voice. He drew her into performances that left the court breathless. Under moonlight, he taught her complex dances and coaxed her into learning the art of combat, especially the deadly use of poisoned arrows.
Prince Li Fenglin praised her with abandon, calling her "the soul of the palace." After winning a military contest, he quietly dedicated his victory to her. During a flood crisis, he carried her through dangerous waters with a laugh and a wink, brushing off his wounds.
Prince Li Renshu, her closest friend, brought her rare ingredients, wrote riddles to make her laugh, and even attempted to build a mechanical bird to sing her favorite song. When it failed, they both laughed, and she treasured his efforts. He painted a portrait of her spirit on silk, gifting it with the words: "Your light doesn't belong in shadows, Hua Lian." He even made attempts to carry her out of the palace to view the fireworks. He was 3 years older than her and was her genuine friend. They laughed together and encouraged each other.
But Li Yuyan remained distant and aloof.
He called her only "maid" or "you." Not once did he praise her. Even when she saved his life, even when she brought honor to his household through music, he showed no appreciation. Publicly, he criticized her food. Privately, he requested it or stole it like a thief.When others praised her, he dismissed the conversation entirely.
Yet from the shadows, he watched. When she fell ill, the finest physician was sent—ordered by no one openly, yet he alone wore the guilt in his silence. When she was insulted at court, he cut in coldly: "Even a palace maid can save a kingdom—if the emperor is wise enough to see her value."
And when she was almost killed by a scheme, she survived—because someone had intervened.
"Don't waste time on dreams, Hua Lian," he said to her once. "They make you vulnerable."
But his eyes—his eyes always said more than his words. Though she wondered based on his actions to her if she had ever offended him. Because, before people she sensed he treated her as a sworn enemy unlike his brothers.