The celebration was over now. The hall, once filled with joyous music and resounding laughter, had dimmed into a drunken hush. Many of the guests were too intoxicated to move. Làn watched them in silence, her lip curled with distaste.
It's always the city officials and royals, she thought bitterly, rolling her eyes at the slumped figures sprawled across the ornate tables and silk cushions. Corrupt people... I doubt their true intentions here are to celebrate Father's return.
With a deep breath, Làn rose from her seat, gave a respectful bow toward her father—still seated on the platform—and turned to leave. Let the servants deal with them, she thought, her face still twisted in mild disgust. Let them drag these fools to their rooms.
Elsewhere in the hall, Huan stood from her place, eyes sweeping the thinning crowd. She searched eagerly, her heart quietly pounding as her gaze flickered from one guest to another.
Then—
"Huan!"
She turned quickly.
There he was.
Duyi, waving and smiling, walked toward her with familiar warmth in his eyes. Her heart lifted at the sight of him.
When they finally stood face to face, a shy silence bloomed between them, like two flowers unsure of how to bloom in the same space.
Duyi, slightly nervous, extended a hand for a formal greeting—
But Huan ignored the gesture and pulled him into a tight, sudden hug, arms wrapped around his neck. He stiffened at first, surprised, but soon melted into the embrace. His lean frame relaxed as he held her gently.
Duyi Li, son of a lesser town official, Governor Zhengdao, hailed from a quiet northern region far from the bustle of Límmíng City. He was eighteen—just a year older than Huan. Not particularly tall, but with a wiry strength to his frame. His features were plain: soft brown eyes and neatly tied black hair tucked beneath a modest scholar's cap. But to Huan, he was far from average.
"It's been a while," Huan said as she pulled away, a radiant smile across her face.
Duyi raised an eyebrow, teasing. "A month is not a while."
"To me it is," she replied defiantly. "How long did it take you to get here?"
"Two and a half hours by horse," he answered without hesitation, as if the number had branded itself into his memory.
"Did your dad come?" she asked quickly, her voice tinted with hope.
"No?" Duyi responded, a little confused by the question.
Huan sighed and shook her head in disappointment. "Why didn't he come?"
He shrugged. "He sent me and a few guards in his place. Why do you ask?"
Her eyes drifted toward the Empress—her mother—who was deep in conversation with a group of noble guests. Huan hesitated.
"I wanted to introduce your father to my mother. Maybe if she got to know him better, she might..."
She paused, eyes falling to the polished floor.
"...She might like you."
Duyi's smile faded slightly as understanding dawned. "She still doesn't approve... of us."
Huan glanced up at him, her expression unreadable. Then—suddenly—
"Is there an us?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes with faux seriousness before smacking him lightly on the shoulder. "Is there really?"
Duyi laughed. "Ow!"
They both laughed, their shared history bubbling up between them like spring water.
"You're staying, right? Until morning?" she asked softly, her eyes now on the guests staggering out of the hall.
Duyi yawned and stretched his arms, then gently placed a hand across her shoulder.
"Of course," he said.
Huan smiled, eyes drifting again—back toward her mother. For a brief moment, their eyes met across the room.
In an instant, Huan's posture shifted. Her shoulder eased under Duyi's hand, causing it to fall. A silent message passed between them.
"I think we should go," she said, her voice quieter now.
Duyi nodded. "I'll walk you to one of the guest courtyards. I'm sure the guards were taken to theirs already."
"Alright," Huan replied, her voice returning to a light tone.
As they walked toward the exit, Duyi gave her a teasing grin. "Maybe you can let me spend the night with you too."
Huan gasped, swatting him again with a grin. "Oh, shut up!"
The sound of their laughter trailed out of the grand hall, leaving behind the flickering lanterns, the scent of plum wine, and the quiet weight of unspoken expectations.