Murong Jin turned to look at Xue Liulan. He met her gaze, his dark eyes surprisingly gentle.
"You said someone is marrying her?" Deng Qinyu asked in disbelief. "Who?"
"Me," Xue Liulan answered calmly. He watched her shocked expression and smiled. "What? Don't tell me you also think I'm not good enough for Murong Jin."
"Of course not!" Deng Qinyu tossed her head. "If you ask me, she's not good enough for you!"
Xue Liulan burst out laughing. "My dear girl, if you're going to lie, at least practice first."
"I'm not lying!" she protested.
"That's enough, Qinyu." Xue Feiyan cut her off. He picked up the flower wreath from the table and offered it to Murong Jin. "A humble gift. Please don't take Qinyu's words to heart."
Murong Jin glanced at the wreath, then met Xue Feiyan's gaze, her own eyes calm and clear. "She was only speaking the truth, so there is nothing to forgive. And while the wreath is beautiful, I do not take what does not belong to me. But I thank Your Highness for the thought."
Xue Feiyan's expression shifted. I do not take what does not belong to me. Was there a double meaning in those words?
Before he could ponder it, Deng Qinyu snatched the wreath from his hand. "Brother Feiyan, that's mine! You can't give it away!"
Xue Liulan stood beside Murong Jin like a casual observer, his gaze fixed on the stream.
"Fifth Brother, such a fine day. Won't you join the poetry game?" Xue Feiyan asked, recovering his composure.
"Of course," Xue Liulan nodded.
"I was raised on the frontier. I know nothing of such elegant pastimes," Murong Jin said, taking a step back. "The woods over there are beautiful. I think I'll take a walk. Excuse me."
Without another word, she left the pavilion, hiking up her long skirts as she walked up a stone path into the forest.
"See?" Deng Qinyu sniffed. "She can't even wear a dress properly. A crude peasant. How is she worthy of the most romantic prince in the kingdom?"
"Qinyu," Xue Feiyan said with a tolerant smile. "Perhaps the general has other talents. One shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Wouldn't you agree, Fifth Brother?"
"Me?" Xue Liulan's roguish eyes followed Murong Jin's retreating figure. "I don't know about her other talents. But she is a fine sight to behold. And for me, that is enough."
Murong Jin walked until she was deep in the woods, halfway up the mountainside. She sat on a large rock by the stream. The clear water reflected the lush trees and the blush of peach blossoms. She sat for a long time, occasionally trailing her fingers in the water, laughing softly as it flowed through her hands.
"Jin."
The voice came from behind her, shattering the peace. It was Zuo Xunxiao.
Her back went rigid. She didn't turn.
"Jin," he called again.
Slowly, she rose and faced him. "General… Zuo."
The title was a knife to the chest. He forced a smile. "Only a few days, and we are already strangers."
She looked away, her hand tightening around a smooth stone from the riverbed. "Things are different now."
"How are they different?" he asked, stepping closer.
"In Wuchuan, we were generals who fought side by side. We were friends who would have died for each other. But now, you are a general of the Imperial Guard, and I am the Fifth Prince's intended consort." She finally turned her back to him, unable to watch his face as she spoke the words.
"Yes, I forgot. I should call you Princess Consort now," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. "But are you truly happy with this?"
"And if I'm not? What then? Zuo Xunxiao, my name is Murong. I have a duty to my family. That was true years ago when I escaped this fate, and it's true now that I can't escape it any longer."
"This isn't the Murong Jin I know! The general who charged headfirst into battle would never surrender like this!"
"Then what would you have me do?" she suddenly yelled, whirling around to face him. "Tell me, Zuo Xunxiao, what should I do? Give up my title? I don't care about it! But should I forsake my father? Have you forgotten why I went to war in the first place?"
"I haven't forgotten," he said, his brow furrowed. Murong Yan had been gravely wounded in the war against the northern raiders. He couldn't lead. And so his daughter had taken his place.
"My family is not like yours, Zuo Xunxiao."
"If the Fifth Prince fails to take the throne," he said, his voice suddenly cold. "Then you would be free, wouldn't you?"
"What are you saying?" she asked, a flicker of alarm in her eyes.
Zuo Xunxiao looked at her, his expression torn. He saw her future: a gilded cage, a life of polite smiles and quiet desperation, wasted in the shadow of a man she despised. The thought was a fire in his veins. His voice, when he spoke again, was low and hard as forged steel. "Jin, I will not let him take the throne. I will not let him ruin your life."
It was the last thing he said before he turned and vanished into the trees, leaving her standing alone by the stream, her hand numb from gripping the stone.
"He should have said that sooner, you know. It might have saved everyone a lot of trouble."
Xue Liulan stepped out from behind a tree.
Murong Jin shot him a look but said nothing.
He walked closer and gently took her hand, prying the stone from her fingers. "This is a poor way to enjoy your freedom. Look at your hands." He tapped the calluses at the base of her thumb.
"It's the only way I feel alive," she said, pulling her hand back. "What are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to be playing poetry games?"
"I was worried you might be upset by Deng Qinyu's words, so I came to check on you."
"I'm not upset," she said with a humorless laugh. "It seems my reputation in the capital is truly terrible."
"What do they matter? I'm the one marrying you, not them." The words came out before he could stop them, and for a moment, he looked surprised at himself. He cleared his throat. "So, Zuo Xunxiao plans to make an enemy of me?"
"It would seem so. With the Seventh Prince on his side, your path just became much harder," she replied, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. She turned away and crouched by the water.
"He has a point. If I'm out of the running for the throne, you'd be free."
Her hand stilled. She looked up at him, confused.
"In fact," he continued, "you could help him."
"And betray my family, all for my own freedom?" she asked, an eyebrow arched.
"You chose a life that could have killed you at any moment just to feel alive. Helping him is far less risky than that."
She rose and stepped toward him. "There's an even simpler way, then."
"Oh?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips.
"Yes. I could kill you right now. No one would know. I'm not yet your wife. At worst, I'd be a widow before the wedding. I wouldn't have to live in your residence."
"And yet, you haven't," he noted, completely unfazed. "Is it because you can't bear to?"
"It's because you are the son of the Murong Empress," she said, an exasperated laugh escaping her. "As my father's letter made perfectly clear, killing you would be an act of filial impiety."
"So, you're only helping me because of your father?"
"Of course. So you can trust me."
He nodded, his gaze distant as he thought. A cool breeze rustled the leaves overhead, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine.
"It's getting late. We should go back," Murong Jin said, shaking the water from her hands and starting down the path. The stream murmured beside them, a constant, quiet witness.
"Murong Jin," he called out suddenly. "If I told you I didn't want the throne, would you help me?"
She paused and looked back, considering it for a moment before shaking her head. "No."
"Why not? It would benefit us both."
She smiled. "Since my father ordered me to help you, I would need his permission to stop. It's as simple as that."
"That stings, you know."
"Oh?"
"To think I hold no place in your heart at all," he said, feigning a wounded look.
She looked at him, truly looked at him, for a long moment. "I don't place my trust in people who don't trust me, Xue Liulan. You're blaming the wrong person."
"Hey!" he called after her retreating back. "If I were completely honest with you, could I earn a place in your heart?"
"No," she called back, and this time, her smile was genuine. But for a single, traitorous moment, her heart had skipped a beat.
Xue Liulan stood watching her go. A woman like that, he thought. So stubborn. So cold. And yet, her cruelty to Zuo Xunxiao was its own kind of kindness—a way to protect him.
Now that the game was afoot, neither of them could be the first to walk away.