One love denied, another quietly blooming. As court power shifts and loyalties solidify, even the most guarded hearts begin to stir.
In the General's residence, A Lie stood over the sand table, simulating the northern frontier's situation—but his mind was elsewhere.
Since returning from the border, Qing Ying had resumed her role as his shadow-like guard. Yet she was quieter than ever, as if that night's entanglement had been nothing but a dream. She adhered strictly to the boundaries of a subordinate, her gaze never lingering, her movements deliberately distant.
This coldness unsettled A Lie. He found himself unconsciously watching her—watching the fine sweat on her brow as she practiced swordplay, the upright silhouette she held while on duty, even the slight furrow between her brows when she ate.
"General, the maps from the Ministry of War," Qing Ying's voice came from behind, calm and impassive as always.
A Lie snapped out of his thoughts, took the maps, but his eyes drifted to her hand—slender fingers, callused from years of swordwork, wrists delicate yet strong. He remembered how those hands had pressed helplessly against his chest in the dark, how they had clung tightly to his arm…
"Anything else?" He caught himself, voice turning curt.
Qing Ying paused, lowered her gaze. "No, General. I take my leave."
Watching her retreating figure, A Lie slammed his fist against the edge of the sand table. What was he doing? He had devoted himself to the Crown Prince for years—why was he now so easily shaken by a mere guard?
—
That night, restless and unable to sleep, A Lie wandered into the courtyard—only to see a familiar figure practicing swordplay beneath the moonlight.
It was Qing Ying.
She wore no armor, only a sleek black training outfit. Her long hair was tied back simply. The sword in her hand danced like flowing silk—sometimes fierce like a dragon breaching the sea, sometimes soft like willow swaying in the wind. Her movements under the moonlight held a beauty far removed from her usual stoicism—almost sorrowful.
A Lie leaned against a pillar, watching silently. He had never seen this side of Qing Ying—stripped of all pretense, pouring her true self into the sword. Each strike seemed to carry loneliness and restraint.
When she finished, she stood still, breathing lightly. She wiped the sweat from her brow and gazed at the solitary moon, unmoving.
A Lie looked at her slender back, and something in his heart softened. He stepped forward, almost against his own will.
Hearing footsteps, Qing Ying turned sharply. Seeing him, a flicker of panic crossed her eyes. She quickly bowed. "General!"
"No need for formality." A Lie approached, his gaze falling on her flushed cheeks. "Your swordplay is excellent."
Qing Ying lowered her head. "A trivial skill. Forgive me for the display."
Silence stretched between them. The night breeze carried the faint scent of sweat and something cool and clean from her body.
"That night…" A Lie began, struggling to find the words.
Qing Ying's body stiffened almost imperceptibly. Her voice dropped. "That night was an accident. I've long forgotten it."
"But I haven't." The words escaped A Lie before he could stop them.
Qing Ying looked up sharply, eyes wide with disbelief—and something else, quickly suppressed. She turned away, voice hardening. "General, mind your words! I… I take my leave!"
She fled.
A Lie watched her retreating figure. For the first time, he didn't feel offended. Instead, the heavy stone in his chest seemed to shift.
—
The next morning's court session carried a subtle tension.
Thanks to the northern victory and its aftermath, Gu Lian's position as Crown Prince was more secure than ever. Ai Miao, with his exceptional skill and authority as Minister of War, had also firmly established himself—no longer seen as a mere "favored courtier."
One official cautiously raised the issue of the Crown Prince's marriage, suggesting that the Eastern Palace should not remain vacant. Again, the Su family was subtly mentioned.
But this time, before Gu Lian could speak, several prominent generals and civil officials close to Ai Miao stepped forward to object.
"The frontier has just stabilized. His Highness is busy with national affairs—personal matters must wait." "Miss Su is indeed virtuous, but His Highness's heart lies with the realm. Marriage should be considered carefully." "In my view, Marquis Wen'an's service to the Crown Prince is a blessing to the nation. Their partnership is what Da Sheng needs."
Though none explicitly endorsed Gu Lian and Ai Miao's relationship, their stance was clear—they supported the Crown Prince and acknowledged Ai Miao's position. They opposed any attempt to stir trouble.
The Emperor watched silently, then spoke. "The Crown Prince's marriage is for me to decide. Court dismissed."
—
After court, Gu Lian and Ai Miao walked side by side.
"It seems we're not fighting alone anymore," Gu Lian said quietly.
Ai Miao nodded. "Where interests align, hearts follow. Your Highness's strength and control have shown them a future worth investing in." He paused. "And they've begun to understand—attacking me is attacking your right arm. It serves no one."
Gu Lian turned to him, eyes filled with pride and warmth. "My right arm… is untouchable."
—
Meanwhile, the atmosphere in the Prime Minister's residence had softened.
During dinner, Ai Miao noticed several dishes he had loved since childhood. His father remained quiet, but no longer brought up painful topics. Instead, he asked about official matters.
"How's the supply coordination for the northern troops?" he asked casually.
Ai Miao set down his chopsticks and replied respectfully. "All is well. His Highness has prioritized the frontier, and the Ministry of Revenue is cooperating."
The Prime Minister nodded, then said after a pause: "You now hold great power. Be cautious. Don't give anyone leverage."
Though still a warning, his tone held less severity—and a trace of concern.
"I understand. I will not fail Your Majesty, nor Your Highness. And I will not bring shame to our family."
After dinner, the Prime Minister watched his son's upright figure disappear down the corridor and sighed softly.
His son was brilliant, resilient—and had chosen the hardest path. But the die was cast. The Ai family was already tied to the Eastern Palace. Perhaps… it was time to accept it.
—
Back at the General's residence, A Lie accidentally knocked over a teacup while working. Scalding tea splashed across his hand, reddening the skin.
Qing Ying, silent as ever, rushed forward instantly. She grabbed his hand, voice filled with urgency she didn't even notice. "General! Are you alright?"
She quickly pulled out a vial of salve and applied it with practiced care.
A Lie stared at her focused face, feeling the cool touch of her fingers and the gentleness of her movements. Something deep inside him stirred.
"Qing Ying," he said softly.
She froze, looked up—and met his gaze. Realizing her lapse, her cheeks flushed. She tried to pull away, but A Lie held her hand.
"That night… it wasn't just the drug," he said, voice low and steady. "I wasn't… entirely unaffected."
Qing Ying's pupils contracted. Her heart pounded. She saw the emotion in his eyes—no longer hidden—and the wall she had built around herself cracked.
She opened her mouth, but no words came. She simply let him hold her hand, feeling the warmth in his palm.
Outside, the moonlight was hazy. The air carried a faint fragrance.
Some feelings, like the scent of night-blooming flowers, arrive quietly—but linger deep in the soul.