Days passed.
Quietly. Neatly. As if nothing had happened.
Queen Yǐn Lìhuá rose at dawn, reviewed accounts, supervised the inner court, and attended meals with Wèi Zhèn as she always had. The King went to court, listened to ministers, returned in the evenings, and spoke to her of ordinary matters—the weather, the harvest, troop movements at the borders.
Their voices were calm. Their manners impeccable.
Nothing was broken—at least, nothing visible.
They shared dinners beneath soft lanternlight, played chess in the afternoons, and walked the garden paths side by side. Their steps matched. Their silence remained familiar.
Only the space between them felt slightly wider.
The recruitment began.
Women from noble and respectable families arrived in measured numbers, each one introduced, assessed, dismissed—or considered. The Queen presided over the process with meticulous care.
She asked the right questions.
She observed without prejudice.
She listened more than she spoke.
Many were rejected.
Some lacked composure. Some ambition showed too clearly in their eyes. Others carried families that would complicate the balance of power.
In the end, only three were chosen.
They were settled quietly in the inner quarters, their status announced without ceremony. Training began at once—palace etiquette, conduct, restraint.
Queen Yǐn Lìhuá supervised personally.
She corrected posture, adjusted sleeves, and instructed them in silence and obedience. Her voice was gentle but absolute. Nothing escaped her notice.
From a distance, Wèi Zhèn watched.
He often paused in doorways or along the garden paths, his gaze following her movements. She was composed as ever, her expression serene, her authority unquestioned.
Yet something about her unsettled him.
It was not grief.
It was not resentment.
It was something sealed—carefully buried, deliberately hidden.
He sensed it.
And he did not ask.
Because he did not dare.
When their eyes met across the courtyard, neither lingered.
When their hands brushed during shared meals, neither reacted.
Whatever had almost crossed the boundary between them that night remained unspoken—locked away beneath layers of duty and restraint.
They continued as king and queen.
As companions.
As strangers bound by routine.
And beneath it all, something waited—patient, silent, and growing heavier with every day it was ignored.