The great hall of Límíng Palace brimmed with life.
Laughter echoed beneath the high golden arches. Toasts were raised. Goblets of plum wine clinked together. The noble and royal guests, seated in their finest robes, filled the vast space with joy and music.
Huángdì Hòu sat at the head of the hall on a semi-raised dais, regal in posture, his red and gold robes flowing like banners around him. Beside him sat Huánghòu Juan, poised and composed, her expression calm but ever watchful.
Below them, seated in descending rows, were the five sisters—Lán, Chún dù, Bǎihé, Huān, and Bào—alongside high-ranking nobles, foreign dignitaries, and rows of stiff-backed military officers whose sharp stares reminded all that peace was still guarded by steel.
Entertainers glided through the center, their long sleeves twirling like windblown petals. Dancers spun in time with the ethereal plucking of the guzheng and the fluid melody of the zither, their movements telling stories older than memory.
Bǎihé couldn't stop smiling—not entirely. Like the others, she clapped politely and even laughed at the acrobats. But her eyes... her eyes betrayed her. No matter how she tried, they kept wandering—back to the far end of the hall, across the sea of robes and perfumes, to him.
She hated it.
Every few minutes, her gaze slipped, drawn like silk to flame. She despised the feeling. At this point, she wished she could sew her eyes shut.
There were questions swirling inside her—ones she dared not voice. Questions her eyes tried asking on their own.
How have you been? Why are you here? Why did we end like that...?
"Stop it, Bǎihé," she muttered under her breath, shaking the thoughts from her mind.
Thankfully, Hépíng sat beside her—not behind her as a servant, but beside her as a friend. It was a small defiance, one she was proud of. Although she could feel her mother's cold stare burning into the side of Hépíng's head when she'd invited her to sit earlier.
Typical. Always on edge. Bǎihé rolled her eyes at the thought.
Suddenly, a voice rose from the crowd.
"Huángdì Hòu!" called a general from the Xuanling Dynasty, bowing respectfully.
"My wife and I must soon take our leave, as the night will grow too dark for us to ride back."
Huángdì Hòu frowned, visibly disappointed. "The night? Will darkness keep you from staying?" He stood, arms outstretched. "Then let none be troubled by distance. I invite all present to stay in our finest guest courtyards. Remain as long as your hearts desire!"
His voice echoed with warmth.
"Oh, Huángdì Hòu, you are too generous!" the general laughed.
"Thank you, Huángdì Hòu!" came the voices of dozens in unison, rising like a chorus of gratitude.
The hall rang with applause and cheer.
⸻
Huan's heart began to race.
They were staying?
That meant... Duyi would still be here.
The idea of finally speaking with him—really speaking—made her hands tremble slightly in her sleeves. Her gaze slipped toward the back rows, and there he was.
Duyi.
As if drawn by invisible thread, their eyes met.
His soft smile found her instantly.
Huan's lips twitched upward despite herself. She blushed and looked away quickly, hiding behind her sleeve, her heart fluttering like a trapped bird in her chest.
⸻
Meanwhile, Bǎihé was quietly spiraling.
They're staying? she thought in disbelief.
She had hoped to endure this emotional torment for just a short while longer. Now she had to survive the entire night with him breathing the same air?
It was unbearable.
A headache began to creep behind her eyes. And when she glanced his way again—of course—he was already staring.
Their eyes locked.
Bǎihé blinked, pulled her gaze away, and sighed dramatically. "Kill me," she muttered.
Next to her, Bào turned quickly with a worried look.
"I just need some fresh air," Bǎihé whispered.
Bào nodded, relieved.
Standing gracefully, Bǎihé stepped out from the row of seated nobles. All eyes turned to her as she moved toward the center of the hall. The music softened. She paused, bowed elegantly toward the emperor and empress.
Huángdì Hòu gave a nod, smiling kindly.
With permission granted, Bǎihé turned and exited the hall, her silk robes trailing behind her like wind against leaves.