The imperial banquet honoring the Crown Prince's envoy was an opulent affair held in the grand Hall of Radiant Virtue. Lanterns of vermilion and gold swayed gently overhead, casting a soft glow over polished jade floors. The scent of camellia incense lingered in the air, curling like secrets waiting to be spoken. Daughters from the noblest families sat in perfectly aligned rows, their silks rustling like leaves in a storm of quiet ambition.
Xue Lian sat with poise among them, dressed in a gauzy robe of silver-gray with threads of plum and frost stitched like creeping blossoms. The other girls sparkled with brighter colors—crimson, sapphire, gold—but she had chosen restraint. Her beauty needed no embellishment, and tonight, her silence would be sharper than a blade.
Across the room, Shen Jingyuan entered with his usual storm-wrapped-in-steel aura. He didn't smile. He didn't need to. When he took his seat beside the Crown Prince's proxy minister, the hush that fell was immediate and reverent.
He wore midnight blue once again, though this time his robe bore a different motif—cranes in flight beneath a moon, signifying unwavering loyalty. His eyes briefly scanned the crowd of hopeful noble daughters. And paused.
On her.
Again.
Xue Lian did not drop her gaze. She offered a soft smile—just enough to be polite, just enough to intrigue. He narrowed his eyes in response, but said nothing.
The first performance began: the youngest daughter of the Zhao family performing a guqin piece. She played with trembling fingers, glancing often at the envoy. He barely blinked. Next, a poetry recital from the Liu girl. Then a dance from the twins of the Qi household.
One by one, the girls presented their talents. One by one, Shen Jingyuan remained unmoved.
Xue Yan stepped forward next. She was stunning in lapis silk and pearls, her dance a flawless combination of grace and technical perfection. When she finished, applause rippled through the hall. Even the proxy minister nodded with approval.
But Shen Jingyuan simply sipped his wine and offered a quiet, "Well-executed."
It was not the praise Xue Yan had hoped for.
Finally, all eyes turned to Xue Lian.
The host gently called her name. "First Miss Xue, will you not favor us with a performance?"
She rose gracefully. "Of course."
A ripple of whispers followed as she stepped forward, no props in hand.
"She's not dancing?"
"No instrument?"
"What is she doing?"
Xue Lian knelt at the center of the hall and began to recite a tale instead—a short dramatic monologue from a forgotten legend: the sorrow of the snow spirit who fell in love with a mortal man and chose to melt at his feet rather than watch him suffer.
Her voice was calm, clear, haunting.
"…But I am only frost, born from sorrow. If I embrace you, I vanish. If I leave you, I break. So tell me—must I always be the one to disappear?"
By the time she finished, the room was utterly silent.
Even Shen Jingyuan leaned slightly forward, a frown forming—not from displeasure, but from… curiosity?
Xue Yan's hands twisted in her sleeves.
That wasn't a display of talent. That was a message.
One the envoy had heard.
The Crown Prince's proxy minister clapped first, gently but with feeling. "A rare piece. Evocative."
Shen Jingyuan said nothing.
But when she returned to her seat, she could feel the weight of his gaze lingering like a winter chill.
---
Later that night
Behind the golden screens of the banquet hall, as the guests trickled away and servants cleared away wine cups, Shen Jingyuan remained standing.
The senior court advisor approached him. "That girl, Xue Lian… what did you think?"
Shen Jingyuan was quiet for a long moment before he replied, "She is not as she was described. There's… calculation behind that serenity."
The advisor chuckled. "A rare trait in this city of masks."
Shen Jingyuan gave him a look. "I don't mind masks. I mind the ones who forget they're wearing them."
---
Meanwhile, at the Xue estate
Xue Yan paced furiously.
"She upstaged me again. With a story. And he looked at her like—like she was some kind of riddle he wanted to solve."
Her maid remained silent.
"She wasn't like this before. She never would've had the courage."
She slammed her fist onto her vanity. "I don't care what it takes. I'll strip that new skin off her. She'll be crawling back to her old self in tears."
---
At the same time, in Xue Lian's courtyard
Hongyu poured tea while Xue Lian gently unwound her hair.
"That story you told, Miss… everyone's talking about it."
"I know," Xue Lian replied.
"What if Lord Shen becomes… interested?" Hongyu asked hesitantly.
Xue Lian's lips curved slightly.
"If a man like him turns his gaze toward me," she mur
mured, "he won't know until it's too late whether I'm the frost that melts… or the storm that swallows."