The golden gong sounded three times, each reverberation echoing through the grand pillars and vaulted ceilings of the Grand Ceremony Hall of Da Yi Palace. It was a sound that marked imperial events—solemn, binding, and absolute.
The hall had been transformed into a spectacle of splendor. Crimson and gold silk draped from the rafters, catching the late afternoon sun as it filtered through colored panes high above. Dragons curled in golden embroidery down the lengths of the banners. Phoenixes rose in arcs across the walls—symbols of union, power, and harmony between sovereign bloodlines. Every corner glittered with the expectation of history in the making.
Officials stood in stiff formation, their robes like rippling waves of black and jade. Eunuchs flanked the steps, heads bowed. Palace ladies lined the walls, motionless as statues. From the air alone—thick with incense and the quiet hush of breath held back—it might as well have been a coronation.
"Announcing the betrothal ceremony uniting two kingdoms: Crown Prince Feng Yuhan of Nanyan and Lady Su Mengyu, daughter of the Su family."
The herald's voice rang out, cutting through the air with practiced clarity.
All eyes turned toward the center of the hall.
There stood Su Mengyu, radiant in a crimson wedding robe woven with thread-of-gold. A phoenix crown adorned her hair, its tassels trembling with each slight breath. She moved not a single muscle. Her back was straight, her chin lifted—but her eyes, dark and gleaming, carried the fire of triumph.
Inwardly, she smiled.
You cannot win, Xianlan, she thought coldly.
No matter how cunning you are… in the end, I shall stand beside him—rightfully and ceremonially.
—
At the foot of the throne, Feng Yuhan stood in silence. He wore full ceremonial robes, the five-clawed golden dragon across his chest embroidered with near-supernatural detail. His crown was set with deep jade, but no color reached his expression.
Still as stone.
Yet his eyes—sharp, unreadable—drifted across the assembly and came to rest not on Su Mengyu, but on a quiet corner of the hall.
Xianlan.
She stood apart, dressed in pale robes of ivory gold, her sleeves edged in cloud patterns. No jewels. No crown. Only a single white orchid hairpin in her dark hair—elegant, serene. She was not part of the ceremony. Not a participant. Merely a "spectator."
And yet her presence gripped the room like a tide.
Su Mengyu followed Feng Yuhan's gaze.
Her fingers curled slightly beneath her sleeves.
—
The herald stepped forward again. "The Crown Prince may now voice his consent to this union."
The moment held.
The hush was so complete that even the candles seemed to stop flickering.
Feng Yuhan moved.
One step forward.
He met Su Mengyu's gaze briefly, and then turned to face Emperor Li Sicheng upon the dais.
"I have but one request before I accept this ceremony," he said.
Gasps rippled like a tide through the court.
The emperor's expression did not change, but his eyes narrowed a fraction.
"If your request does not breach the royal code, you may speak it."
—
Feng Yuhan turned back to Su Mengyu.
The silence was painful now. Even the musicians had lowered their instruments.
He spoke.
Calm. Unwavering.
"I respectfully withdraw from this betrothal."
The words crashed into the room like thunder.
"Because to be bound without consent is no different than being shackled with golden chains. And I…"
His voice did not tremble.
"…will not be a prisoner to ceremonial obligations."
—
The world fell still.
Su Mengyu's face lost all color. Her lips parted, but no sound came.
She stepped forward as if to object, but Feng Yuhan raised his voice—just enough to stop her.
"I apologize to the Kingdom of Nanyan and to the noble Su family," he continued. "But if a bond between nations must be forged with hearts that do not willingly give, then the longer it lasts… the more it rots from within."
A minister dropped his scroll. Several eunuchs retreated, their eyes wide.
Whispers turned to arguments. The court broke into murmurs of disbelief and dismay.
Emperor Li Sicheng raised a hand. The room quieted.
He exhaled, long and low.
"Feng Yuhan," he said. "You have chosen a difficult path."
"I am aware," the Crown Prince replied, bowing deeply. "But I would rather walk a rough road… than end it in a gilded cage."
—
From the edge of the hall, Xianlan did not move.
She did not smile. Did not speak. Did not shift.
But in the depth of her gaze, a quiet recognition stirred.
Feng Yuhan's words had shattered more than a political match. They had shattered a long-standing belief—that tradition and obligation were absolute.
This was no victory.
But it was a message.
—
That evening, the news spread like wildfire.
"Crown Prince Rejects Betrothal."
Servants whispered in the corridors. Eunuchs rushed between halls bearing conflicting reports. Noble Consort Gui's household went into sudden lockdown, summoning Su Mengyu without delay.
Xianlan said nothing.
And yet her name danced on every lip in the palace.
—
Wen Yichen walked beside her as they returned to Hualan Pavilion.
They passed under hanging lanterns, their shadows long and twin upon the garden path.
He glanced sideways at her.
"You won again," he said, "without placing even a single piece on the board."
Xianlan's eyes remained ahead.
"Some enemies," she said calmly, "are so confident in their own games… they walk onto the battlefield alone."
Wen Yichen gave a soft laugh.
"And you merely wait… to clap as they enter of their own accord."
His tone held admiration. And something warmer.
"Oh, how I'd love to see Su Mengyu's face right about now," he added with a grin.
Xianlan said nothing.
But for the first time in many days, her gaze softened.
The night wind brushed past them.
And the game moved on.
"This chapter has been updated with improved narrative and deeper character perspective. The plot remains unchanged."
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