The corridor stretched endlessly ahead, dimly lit and lined with narrow passageways and identical doors.
It felt suffocating.
Shen Yao walked forward slowly.
He did not run or hurry. He moved in the same measured pace looking calm and controlled. Unbothered even.
But in an angle, no one saw his jaw had tightened. His hands, hidden in his sleeves, were clenched into tight fists.
Behind him, he could hear the murmurs growing louder. The shuffle of robes. The whispered questions.
The crowd was following. Of course they would
He didn't need to turn to know why.
He pushed it open.
Shen An who had been following close by bolted forward.
And was immediately covered in a cloud of dust that rose out.
It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to disgust him.
He frowned and was pulled aside by his mother, Chen Mi.
Unfortunately, nobody cared about what they were discussing. Too busy in their own speculations about the two missing people.
Shen Yao glanced in the room quickly.
A storage room. Brooms. Dust. Empty.
He closed it and moved on.
The second door. He pushed it open.
A resting area from what it looked like. Unlit. Unused. Empty.
He closed it and moved on.
The third door was different.
Even before reaching the door, he caught a whiff of a sweet scent.
He paused.
Standing at the door, it became much clearer though faint.
Lavender
It carried a faint, floral, sweet scent. It was pleasant, almost soothing. It clung to the corridor in a way that made him pause in his tracks.
He knew that scent.
He couldn't place it. At least not immediately. It was familiar, but distant, like something he had encountered before but never thought to name.
Where have I smelled this before?
The thought surfaced briefly before he forced it aside. He could hear footsteps drawing closer.
As first as it rose the thought pressed it into the back of his mind.
Slowly reaching for the handle.
His hand paused.
The handle was loose.
He frowned
Before pushing the door open.
---
He opened the door.
The scent hit him first—stronger here, but not easily noticeable He glanced at the candlelight from the looks of it, it had burnt out. The window behind it slightly open
Then his gaze was down to the figures lying on the bed.
He did not step inside.
But from where he stood the figures in the dim light of the room couldn't easily be identified. But from body structure he could identify that it was indeed a man and woman just as the maid said.
He closed the door.
He turned to face the crowd his eyes landing to a far corner in the crowd where the maid was standing. She struggled trying to escape the guards holding her in place. Her eyes filled with panicked.
Shen Yao then turned to the enthusiastic crowd in front of him, his face blank, his voice quiet.
"No one enters this room."
The words landed like a stone in still water causing ripples. The murmurs behind him faltered for a moment—then swelled again, louder, more insistent.
Madam Ling's face twisted.
She stepped forward, her voice sharp, her composure cracking.
"What are you hiding? Huh"
"She's in there right...you're covering for her," she said, pointing a trembling finger at Shen Yao. "You're trying to protect your sister's reputation. I know what I saw. My son is in that room—and so is she."
The crowd stirred. Whispers spread like wildfire.
Shen Yao did not move. His face remained expressionless. But his hand, resting on the door handle, did not loosen.
"See....I know Ling Feng would never do such a thing."
"I ...the mistress of the Ling family raised my child well.... I refuse to accept this."
Madam Ling's voice rose, carrying across the corridor.
"How dare you imprison my child? How dare you stand there and block a mother? Is this how the Shen family treats other nobles? With petty schemes and locked doors?"
She was trembling now, but her eyes were sharp. She was not afraid. She was clutching on the fact that Shen Maio was raised on the border and was considered a barbaric compared to her own son who grew up in the capital.
She knew this was a risk. She knew she would burn bridges with the Shen family—and with the other noble houses. But she also knew that if Shen Yao was blocking the door, it meant her son was indeed inside. And if her son was inside, she could use this.
She could salvage something.
She slumped to the ground, her robes pooling around her, her voice breaking into sobs.
"My son—my only son—trapped in a room with a young lady of noble birth—and me as his mother, can't see him—"
The crowd murmured. Some looked uncomfortable. Others leaned forward, hungry for the spectacle.
The princess's face tightened. Fan Xinyu's hand drifted to his sword his fingers clenching the hilt.
The empress, who had followed along with the crowd, stepped forward. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were hard. She did not kneel beside Madam Ling. She did not comfort her.
She looked at Shen Yao.
"Young Master Shen," she said, her voice carrying the weight of her station, "why are you blocking the door?"
Shen Yao met her gaze.
He said nothing
"Is what she says true?" The empress pointed whose shoulders were shaking slightly. Her face not visible to the crowd but Shen Yao could clearly see her lips raised.
How can a child who's still wet behind the ears compare to her?
Madam Ling saw her opening. She crawled forward, her voice raw, her tears flowing freely.
"Your Majesty, please—my son is in there—he is young, foolish, yes, but he is still my child—and that girl—" she lowered her voice, as if sharing a secret, "—she must have been the one who—"
She did not finish the sentence. She didn't need to.
The crowd's murmurs grew. Shen Yiyi, standing in the back, smiled behind her sleeve. She had ordered her personal maid Li Mei to change the candles in advance. What she didn't expect was that Ling Feng had his own plans tonight. It was expected —but she wouldn't let this chance in front of her go to waste.
She stepped forward to say something.
But her mother, Chen Mi, who had appeared a few paces behind her tugged at her sleeve shaking her head.
Shen Yiyi paused staying in place though her joy was still visible from her clenched sleeves.
Pei Shu standing at the edge of the corridor frowned.
--
The empress's expression flickered—only for a moment, only for those who were watching closely. She had seen enough. She knew a performance when she saw one.
She stepped back, her hands folding in front of her robes. She did not speak. She did not intervene. She simply watched.
The princess's hand tightened on her sleeve. Her gaze moved from Madam Ling's crumpled figure to Shen Yao's still, unreadable face to the closed door.
She had seen Shen Yao close the door. She had not seen inside. She had not heard him mention anyone being in the room. And yet—Madam Ling was certain. The maid had been certain. The crowd was certain.
What is wrong with this woman? the princess thought, her disgust barely hidden. She is not helping her son. She is burying the Ling family
But she could not stop the momentum now.
The empress's retreat had been silent. The crowd's hunger had grown.
And Madam Ling, desperate and reckless, saw her opening.
---
Madam Ling lurched forward.
She was faster than anyone expected. She pushed past Shen Yao—who side-stepped her, his face unchanged—and threw herself at the door.
Her hand struck the handle. The door swung open.
Light spilled into the corridor.
The crowd pressed forward.
Shen Yao did not stop her.
He watched the door swing open.
He had already seen what was inside.
He didn't need to see it again.