"A hundred stones can't compete with one diamond."
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The procession finally reached Liang's capital after four days on the road, cresting the last ridge like a dragon waking from sleep. Vermilion walls rose high under the noon sun, towers topped with glazed tiles shining like jade scales. Dragon banners snapped in the wind over terraced gardens where peonies drooped heavy with dew. Gongs boomed from the gatehouse, welcoming them home. Dust from the march settled slowly as the phoenix litter stopped, its silk curtains parting to show Li Xian in his travel-worn crimson robes, jade coronet swapped for a simple Yan crane hairpin. Han Shen walked close behind, always watchful, while Zhao Wei led ahead in crisp black hanfu, his bandaged hand hidden in his sleeve.
Empress Dowager Zhao Hua waited in her quiet pavilion, screens of pear wood painted with half-open lotuses that hid palace secrets from prying eyes. On her rosewood table sat welcome gifts: Yan silk in sunset colors, boxes of osmanthus jam, and a small sachet of dried flowers giving off a sweet honey scent. She rose smoothly, her indigo robes whispering over the mats, silver threads in her hair catching the light. No crown for her—wisdom wore none.
"My son," she said softly, cupping Zhao Wei's face in her hands. Her thumbs brushed the lines at his jaw, marks from claiming the throne too young. Her eyes fell to the bandaged hand. "The road takes more than steps. This... Healing well?"
Zhao Wei smiled faintly, the kind only she saw, like frost melting by a fire. "Stings enough to remember, Mother." He glanced at Li Xian, eyes sharp and amused, like the cut sealed a new promise.
Zhao Hua turned, her smile warm as jasmine vines. "Prince Li Xian, welcome to these halls. Alliances grow here like osmanthus after rain." Her words held old echoes of forgotten pacts, but light as dust. She waved to the cushions, steam rising from jasmine tea cups beside golden osmanthus cakes dusted with sugar. "Sit. Rites tie with thread, but tea binds hearts. Do Yan gardens still choose late plums over bold peonies?"
Li Xian paused, the pavilion's calm easing the road's grit—pomelo incense chasing away wedding shadows, wind bells chiming like old songs. Han Shen nodded slightly; Li Xian knelt in greeting, then sat, fingers grazing the sachet. Its scent tugged at something faint, like cradle warmth. "Plums take frost best, Dowager," he said steadily, though his pulse quickened in this new place. "They teach holding on, in flower or bare branch."
Tea poured, steam bridging the air. Zhao Hua unwrapped the bandage gently, clean linen over the shallow cut. "Resilience fits you both," she said to the steam. "May it take root here."
Zhao Wei rose soon after, duties calling like far drums. Li Xian bowed Yan-style, crisp and formal, Han Shen shadowing him out. The screens closed behind.
Alone, Zhao Hua relaxed, smiling softly. Mei Ling, her loyal servant of twenty years in plain gray robes, stepped from the alcove with fresh tea. Her face held the quiet strength of one who carried the boy-emperor through rain and flight.
"Good start, my lady," Mei Ling said, pouring steadily. "The prince carries Yan pride sharp—no dull edge from the miles."
Zhao Hua laughed low, tracing the sachet as memory stirred: rain-soaked roads, a twelve-year-old's pleas, gates that shut out more than beggars. "My son wove this marriage clever—sparing Yan's fires for a prince's hand. Good indeed." She paused, eyes on the screen where Zhao Wei had gone. "
Zhao Hua said, weaving hope into the sad note, sweet as osmanthus in rain. "But scars heal in time. He fled as a boy, revenge his only light. I pray this prince lights a better path. Softens him. For us all." She sipped, steam hiding resolve, as bells chimed—roots promising new blooms.
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Steam rose thick from the massive copper bathtub, carved with lotus blooms and set deep in polished stone floors. Princess Chen Shuyin lounged in the scented water—jasmine petals floating like fallen stars—her long black hair piled high, skin glowing pale under lantern light. She was the Chen family's youngest daughter, high minister's blood, but lived in Zhao Wei's palace like a shadow sister. In her heart, she knew he loved her. Marriage was coming. It had to be.
Her closest maid, Xiu Lan, hurried in close, bowing low. "My lady, forgive me—the Emperor's returned. Married to an enemy—"
Chen Shuyin raised a hand sharp, water dripping like jewels. "Stop." Her voice cut clean. She signaled her bath attendant to pause pouring the warm rinse. "I don't like interruptions mid-bath."
Xiu Lan blinked, confused. "But this news—"
The princess leaned back calm, eyes half-lidded. "Why would it shake me? No one knows His Majesty like I do. He's found a toy to play with. One day he'll marry properly. This is just... him."
Xiu Lan stared, puzzled. The princess waved it off again before she could speak.
"A few days, he'll tire of her," Chen Shuyin said smooth, smiling to herself. "No matter how many wives or queens fill these halls, I'm his true favorite. Always."
Xiu Lan's mouth opened, then closed. The princess laughed soft.
"My lady," Xiu Lan tried again, hesitant. "You heard wrong. Not a princess. Prince Li Xian. He married him."
Chen Shuyin's eyes snapped wide—shock flashing raw. Then laughter burst loud, echoing off tiles. "A prince?" She laughed harder, splashing water.
Xiu Lan pressed firm. "Married, my lady. Prince Li Xian of Yan."
The princess's face hardened angry for a beat, then smoothed sarcastic. "Fine. Let's see what makes him so special the Emperor picks him."
A servant rushed in, bowing quick. "Princess, the Emperor enters the palace now."
She waved him off. Xiu Lan tilted her head. "Won't you welcome him?"
Chen Shuyin smirked slow, sinking deeper into steam. "No need. He'll come to me first. Like always.
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Li Xian walked the wide corridors with Han Shen and a few servants, legs heavy from the long march. Polished stone floors gleamed under lantern light, walls hung with silk scrolls of mountains and rivers. His first steps in Liang's heart—exploring quietly, taking in the new world.
Voices drifted sharp from a side hall—servants gathered, heads close.
"You have no right! Don't try it again," one snapped proud. "Only Princess Chen Shuyin decides here."
Li Xian slowed, listening close without showing it. Han Shen tensed beside him.
"She's the Emperor's favorite," another chimed, voice swelling boastful. "Hates anyone stepping on her work. A two-day-old carpet? Chandelier? If she tires of it, gone. Old things pass to us servants—that's fine."
Li Xian's steps quieted more.
"The Emperor hears every word she says," the first went on. "When Princess is near, argue or lift your head? Punished quick."
Han Shen glanced at Li Xian, eyes worried. Li Xian kept walking straight, face calm, but ears sharp.
The whispers faded behind as they turned the corner—Chen Shuyin's name hanging like smoke.
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Sunlight spilled across the courtyard where servants huddled near crates of fresh tribute silk and jade boxes. One girl leaned in, eyes bright. "He's so handsome, isn't he?"
Another shook her head quick. "Handsome? No, he's beautiful too. Like from a painting."
The first laughed soft. "And you heard? He fought in wars. Even stood against His Majesty on the battlefield!"
A third sighed deep. "How did the heavens make someone so perfect?"
Madam Zhao Yan stormed up sharp, fan cracking like thunder. "What are you all doing? Standing here gossiping? Without orders, you don't listen, you don't talk—you work. Doing more than told is a sin."Her voice dropped cold steel. She saw Li Xian walking near, exploring the palace on his first day, Han Shen close behind. Eyes narrowing, she raised her tone so he'd hear clear. "You think a new prince comes and everything changes for you? Don't get your hopes up. You're mistaken."
Anger burned bold now. "In this palace, my rules stand forever. Go hungry two days, you'll come to your senses. Get back to work—now!"
Servants scattered like leaves in wind. Li Xian reached her. Madam Zhao Yan bowed stiff and short. He nodded once, polite and silent, then walked on past.
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Sunlight slanted golden through willow branches in the palace archery gardens, where graveled paths wound past stone benches and target frames painted red with black bullseyes. Princess Chen Shuyin stood poised at the shooting line, her crimson archery robes tied back for freedom, bow drawn taut as a war promise. A small bird—vibrant blue tail flashing—darted low across the range, its wings a fleeting blur against the sky. Servants and guards ringed her, placing bets in hushed tones: "She hits it clean," one wagered silver taels. "No—misses by a feather."
Princess Chen Shuyin loosed the arrow—feathered shaft whistling death. Mid-flight, a glint flashed: a small blade spun from the garden shadows, striking true mid-air. Arrow and steel clattered harmless to gravel. The bird escaped skyward, free.
Ruqin whirled furious, eyes blazing. "Who dares?"
Striding from the willows came Li Xian, Han Shen at his side, blade already sheathed smooth. They roamed the gardens on his first full day, maps forgotten for fresh air. Li Xian had seen the bird's panic—innocent life no target—and thrown without thought, soldier's instinct honed from Yan fields.
Princess Chen Shuyin stormed close, face thunder. "What is this audacious boy doing? Interrupting my shot?"
Her lead servant bowed quick. "Princess, this is the new prince—the Emperor's spouse, Prince Li Xian."
Princess Chen Shuyin raked him up and down slow, calculating. "Pick up my arrow. Apologize."
Li Xian paused a breath, then smiled faint. He walked to the gravel, retrieved the shaft—feathers intact—and handed it back smooth. Han Shen moved to help, but Li Xian signaled no, sharp glance.
Princess Chen Shuyin snatched it, smirk arrogant. "No apology? But you obeyed anyway."
Li Xian met her eyes calm. "I don't apologize for saving a life. You weren't watching your aim. If handing it back makes you think I'm your servant now—that's your mistake, not mine."
Princess Chen Shuyin's cheeks flushed hot. "Sharp tongue. Your family hired the empire's best scholars, I see. Taught you pretty words for stories. But no one taught you the real world."
She leaned in mocking. "Or not to start fights with important people."
Li Xian chuckled low, voice even. "In Yan, we learn young how to handle important folk. First lesson: avoid needless trouble."
Princess Chen Shuyin bristled more.
He continued smooth. "But if someone blocks your path on purpose? Don't back down."
Fury peaked—Princess Chen Shuyin opened mouth to snap—when her servant hurried up. "Forgive the interruption, Your Highness The Empress summons you."
Li Xian nodded polite to both, one last steady look at Princess Chen Shuyin, then turned with Han Shen. They walked away unhurried, gravel crunching soft.
Princess Chen Shuyin stared after, fists tight, thoughts churning dark as she gripped the bow.
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Li Xian walked the winding corridors with Han Shen close behind, palace air thick with jasmine incense and distant lute strings. Servants bowed low as they passed, eyes curious on the new prince. They reached a carved rosewood door guarded by two silent eunuchs. Han Shen stopped at the threshold, giving a respectful nod. Li Xian returned it, then stepped inside alone.
The reception hall breathed quiet elegance—silk screens painted with cranes over misty lakes, low rosewood table set with porcelain tea service steaming jasmine brew, sunlight filtering gold through lattice windows. Empress Zhao Ling sat glamorous on a cushioned divan, her phoenix robes of deep crimson silk embroidered with subtle clouds, hair coiled high with jade pins that caught the light like captured stars. She radiated warmth wrapped in imperial poise.
Li Xian bowed deep, forehead near the floor. "Your Majesty."
The Empress nodded gracious, gesturing to the cushion opposite. "Rise, Prince Li Xian. Sit."
He settled, air heavy with silence—loud as thunder in the calm. Li Xian shifted faint, then reached for the teapot, pouring her cup first with steady hands, steam curling like fragile bridges.
Zhao Ling watched, thought flashing soft in her mind: Beautiful. Aloud, she smiled gentle. "I always told Zhao Wei to marry. He never listened."
Li Xian paused mid-pour, hesitant, unsure what to say. He set the pot down, listening quiet."
Now I see why he chose you." Her smile deepened, then shifted worried. "But I sense... you don't care for him. This marriage wasn't your wish. Tell me true—why not?"
Li Xian met her eyes, words caught. She continued soft. "Did marrying a man trouble you?" Embarrassment colored her tone faint. "If so, put it aside. Zhao Wei is serious. He honors equality. How could anyone not love you?"
The nickname Zhao Wei hung—Li Xian blinked, holding sarcasm back. Voice calm and serious: "Who willingly weds a man without mercy? Without heart?"
Zhao Ling's eyes twinkled amused. "If another said that, it would wound. But you spoke your heart—and saw his true lack."
Li Xian stayed silent, listening soft.
She leaned forward warm. "You saw not just his throne, but what's missing. If fate placed you here, perhaps you'll help him find it. Heal that heart."
Her voice softened more, smiling. She signaled her servant, who brought a folded garment—exquisite robes of layered silk in Yan-style cuts, deep blue with silver crane embroidery, tailored perfect.
"Wear this at tonight's celebration."
Li Xian's eyes widened genuine, taking it with a real smile. "You had this made for me?"
"Liang's craftsmen make anything imaginable," she said sweet, smiling back. "First thing I did when I heard you came. Made your way. Hope you like it."He nodded polite, smile returning hers.
"Tonight matters," she continued calm. "Relatives, kings, officers—all the empire. I want my son's husband shining brighter than any."
Li Xian smiled faint. She rose graceful. "I'll leave you now."
He nodded as she glided out. His smile dropped heavy. Moments later, Han Shen entered. "Never dreamed anyone here cared for us."
Li Xian stood, voice calm but serious. "Her greatness shows in thinking of me." He faced Han Shen straight. "But I'm worried now—what happens at this celebration? Is it even right to hold? Biggest question—is it right for me to be there?"
His eyes dulled, staring distant.
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The grand hall pulsed with celebration's rhythm—lanterns of red silk swaying from rafters carved with coiling dragons, long tables laden with roast pheasant glazed in honey, steamed fish in black bean sauce, and towers of mooncakes stamped with auspicious symbols. Guqin players plucked soft melodies in corners, while silk-clad attendants poured rice wine from porcelain ewers. Courtiers in fine hanfu filled the benches, voices rising in praise as incense coiled from bronze burners shaped like phoenixes.A minister stood, cup raised high. "In six short months since claiming the Liang throne, His Majesty Zhao Wei has forged iron roads through mountains, quelled border wolves, and filled granaries against famine. Glory to the Dragon Emperor!"
Cheers erupted, cups clinking like falling jade.
Voices buzzed among tables. "The Prince graces us!" an official called as Li Xian entered, resplendent in the Empress's gifted robes—deep blue silk with silver cranes, cut Yan-style but woven Liang-fine. All rose, bowing deep. Li Xian nodded gracious, taking his seat at the high dais beside the empty throne, Han Shen standing vigilant behind.
Moments later: "Princess Chen Shuyin of the Chen family arrives!"
Heads turned. She glided in elegant, crimson robes trailing like fire, every step drawing eyes. Li Xian glanced—recognition sharp. Her—the archery gardens.
Han Shen leaned close, voice low worried. "Trouble. She's princess rank. We started rivalry without meaning to."
Li Xian listened calm, eyes forward.
An advisor rose. "The gift-giving begins before feasts!"
One by one, officials approached Li Xian's dais, presenting treasures—jade belts, pearl fans, scrolls of poetry. Li Xian thanked each polite: "Your kindness honors me."
Empress Zhao Ling came next, smiling warm. Li Xian nodded back gracious.
Madam Zhao Yan followed, eyes narrowed annoyed, face tight as drawn bow. She thrust forward a lacquered box stiff. Li Xian nodded polite still.
Then Consort Wen Xing, widow of Zhao Jian, glided serene—calm as still pond, robes muted silver. With her, a boy of ten, Prince Zhao Yun, eyes wide playful. She offered a silk pouch quiet. "For harmony in new halls." Li Xian accepted smiling.
Zhao Yun bounced forward, curiosity bursting. "Are you really from Yan? Do you fight tigers there? Father said Yan princes ride clouds!"
Li Xian chuckled soft, kneeling level. "No clouds, little prince. But we race wind on good horses. What's your favorite game?"
"Archery! But birds always fly away." Yun grinned tooth-gapped.
Last: Princess Chen Shuyin. She approached smirking bold, holding a ornate gold hairpin shaped like intertwining serpents—beautiful but edged subtle poison in design. "A special gift from Senior Princess Chen Shuyin," she announced loud, voice dripping sarcasm for all to hear. "I pondered long. Nothing suits better than this—sharp beauty to pin your... ambitions."
Courtiers murmured. Li Xian understood the barb—serpents for treachery—but smiled polite. "The hairpin is exquisite, Princess. Gift from you honors me. I'll wear it when time fits."
Her smirk cracked annoyed. She spun back to her seat sharp.
Trumpets blared sudden. "Hear the son of Emperor Zhao Rui—glory of Liang, our Emperor, King of Kings, Zhao Wei enters!"
All surged standing, bowing low as one. Zhao Wei strode in imperial black robes embroidered gold claws, presence filling the hall like thunder before storm. He nodded gracious, eyes lingering long on Li Xian—who stared down at his hands, unyielding.
Seated beside, Zhao Wei's gaze burned. A herald called: "Custom bids Emperor and Prince feed each other—seal of union!"
Attendants brought paired bowls of longevity noodles, chopsticks ready. Tension hummed. Courtiers watched eager.
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Silk dancers spun in hypnotic whirl mid-performance—ribbons of crimson and gold trailing like phoenix flames, drums thundering deep rhythm that shook the rafters, fire-jugglers hurling blazing orbs in perfect arcs that lit every face aglow. Courtiers leaned forward entranced, laughter bubbling over wine cups, the hall a living pulse of feast and joy. Incense coiled thick from phoenix burners, mingling with roast meats and sweet osmanthus cakes.
Princess Chen Shuyin locked eyes with Zhao Wei across the tables—her gaze sharp, insistent, demanding words. He nodded subtle, almost imperceptible amid the whirl. She rose graceful, slipping to a shadowed alcove beyond the dancers where lantern light faded to hush.
Zhao Wei followed unhurried, presence parting the crowd like water from stone. She turned as he neared, face already set in practiced annoyance—lips pursed, eyes narrowed just so.
"I can tell from your face you have complaints," he said low, voice even.
"They're not about you," she snapped annoyed, arms crossing tight. "They're about Prince Li Xian. The way he rejected my gift—in front of everyone!"
Zhao Wei smirked faint, one corner of his mouth lifting.
She pushed on, voice rising sharp. "Forget me. He's not showing one ounce of interest in you. No enjoyment, no spark at all."
Smirk deepened. He half-turned away, dismissive.
"So much ego," she hissed, stepping closer. "It's not good. Everyone saw what happened. What will they think of the Emperor now? Think about it, Zhao Wei!"
His voice cut sudden, anger flashing cold steel. "I am well aware what to do before everyone."
Eyes slid to Li Xian, sitting lost in his world amid the performance swirl—unaware, distant. Zhao Wei smiled thin, dangerous. "But the scene is made now." He strode back to his seat beside Li Xian, leaving her fuming.
The performance crested—dancers froze in perfect bow, drums silencing to echo. Zhao Wei nodded approval, rising voice carrying hall-wide. "Liang lacks no artists. Tonight adds one more name to their ranks."
He turned deliberate to Li Xian. "Because my husband, Prince Li Xian—"
Li Xian startled, head snapping up sharp, eyes wide."—is an excellent singer. Knows music deep. I want all Liang Dynasty to witness my husband's talent."
Princess Chen Shuyin leaned forward thrilled, eyes gleaming—what humiliation next?
Zhao Wei pressed smooth. "He sings beautifully. Come, Li Xian—sing for me in that sweet voice."
Li Xian's fists clenched brutal under the table—nails gouging palms, thin scars welling red. Han Shen glanced side-eye, pity and worry mixing, unsure what came next.
Zhao Wei smiled expectant, hall silent expectant. Courtiers whispered: "The prince sings?" "From Yan?" Empress Zhao Ling watched curious, Madam Zhao Yan sneered faint.
Li Xian met his eyes—first time direct, anger boiling hot beneath forced calm. He rose slow as Zhao Wei approached, taking his hand firm, leading him center-stage amid gasps and excitement. Princess Chen's thrill peaked; Consort Wen Xing tilted head intrigued; young Zhao Yun bounced eager.
Zhao Wei released, returning to seat, smirking bold.
Li Xian stood center, thoughts storming wild—You bought this yourself. Expression shifted cunning, eyes sly. Voice emerged sweet, quiet, carrying perfect: "I'm so sorry, Your Highness, but my throat isn't well today. I hope you forgive me—if another chance comes, I'll prepare properly and sing for you."
Drama hung thick. Gasps rippled—courtiers stunned. Princess Chen's excitement cracked to shock. Han Shen's eyes met Li Xian's—pride flashing quiet.
Zhao Wei's smirk vanished instant—face unreadable stone, voice serene ice. "Enough. This ends the celebration."
He rose abrupt, sweeping from hall in black robes trailing shadow. Silence shattered to murmurs: "Refused the Emperor?" "Throat unwell?" "Bold prince!"
Hall emptied slow—courtiers buzzing, Empress gliding out thoughtful, Consort Wen Xing leading Zhao Yun away calm.
Chen Shuyin lingered, Madam Zhao Yan approaching sly.
"The Emperor chose excellent," Yan said dry.Chen scoffed bitter. "Not prince—egoistic fool. His Highness regrets marrying him. But I don't. I'll teach him humility soon."
Yan smirked eager. "Let me assist this kindness."
"Why?" Chen eyed suspicious.
Yan leaned close cunning. "Prince Li Xian—toy for Emperor, now nuisance blocking my sight. Do you fear he steals His Majesty's attention as days pass?"
Chen cut serene, voice diamond-hard. "A hundred stones can't compete with one diamond. Soon, I'll show Prince Li Xian exactly where he stands against me in this palace."
Yan smirked wider. Chen swept away proud.
Yan turned smiling to her helper Xiu Mei. "Poor sweet Prince Li Xian. Don't know if he survives here."Xiu Mei tilted head. "Why, Madam?"
"Because," Yan said low sly, eyes glinting, "Xiu Mei—he's rivaled influential folk. Princess eager to teach unforgettable lesson. Emperor lost temper quick. When angry? Prince perishes fast. We wait quiet. He won't last long."
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- End of Chapter 4 -