That evening, the palace was dressed in silk and splendor.
Golden lanterns floated above the Jade Pavilion, casting a soft, dreamlike glow over the banquet courtyard. Crimson banners embroidered with phoenixes waved in the spring breeze, and music hummed like honey through the air.
Yet beneath the beauty, Rui felt unease bloom like rot beneath polished wood.
He stood beside Li Yuan on the raised dais, dressed in robes of silver and sapphire that shimmered under the lantern light. The emperor's hand briefly touched the small of his back—a grounding gesture, one meant for reassurance.
But Rui couldn't smile.
He could feel eyes watching. Measuring.
Judging.
Below, ministers and foreign envoys raised jeweled goblets and offered toasts, their words sweet as nectar.
"To the harmony between nations!"
"To the emperor's unparalleled wisdom!"
"To his beloved consort, radiant as moonlight!"
Rui bowed his head as expected, but his heart thundered. The court had never been so warm to him. Not like this. It was a play, and he was the masked star—watched from all sides.
Li Yuan leaned in. "You're trembling."
"I don't trust any of them," Rui murmured. "Especially not Yu Lian."
"I know," Li Yuan replied softly, eyes still smiling for the crowd. "But we need proof before we act. Tonight, we listen."
Rui's gaze swept the room, and his stomach tightened.
Something was wrong.
A Toast Too Sweet
The banquet stretched into its second hour. Dancers with gold-threaded veils twirled across the polished floor. Musicians played zithers and flutes, their melodies rising like smoke. But Rui barely tasted the delicacies before him.
Every time he lifted his cup, he noticed a flicker—a glance between ministers. A signal passed behind fans.
And then came the wine bearer.
She was young, cloaked in blue, and graceful in her movements as she approached their dais. Her sleeves swayed as she poured from a black-carved flask into Rui's goblet.
Li Yuan was about to wave her off when Rui gently touched his arm.
"I'll drink," Rui said, gaze fixed on her.
The girl bowed and stepped away.
Rui lifted the cup to his lips, paused—then set it down.
Moments later, a slight puff of smoke rose from the wine's surface. Barely visible. But Rui saw it.
So did Li Yuan.
They exchanged no words. Just a look.
Poison.
Rui's voice was soft, nearly inaudible. "They don't even bother to hide it."
Li Yuan's knuckles went white on the edge of the table. "They're daring me to react. If I strike now, it confirms I feel threatened. That we're vulnerable."
"And if we don't strike?" Rui asked.
"They grow bolder."
Li Yuan turned to one of his guards. "Silently follow that servant. Do not let her leave the grounds."
The soldier vanished into the crowd.
Whispers in the Garden
Later that night, after the formal speeches had ended, Rui slipped away under the pretense of fresh air. He drifted into the outer garden, beneath moonflowers and glowing lanterns. The party still roared behind him, but here, it was quieter.
Too quiet.
A voice called from the shadows.
"Pretty consort. Wandering alone?"
Rui turned slowly.
Two foreign envoys leaned against the stone railing, cloaked in silk. Their tones were mocking—just shy of offensive.
One of them smirked. "They say you were taken as a spoil of war. Is that true? Or were you offered like a bride from some tragic legend?"
Rui's spine straightened.
"And what do they say about you?" he asked coldly. "That you're emissaries or spies?"
The taller man took a step forward. "We only wonder how deep your influence goes. After all… a consort who opens divine ruins and whispers in the emperor's ear is not just a pet."
Rui's blood chilled.
"You fear me," he said.
"We fear imbalance," the envoy replied. "No kingdom thrives when one man threatens to become more than mortal."
Before Rui could answer, footsteps sounded behind them.
Li Yuan's voice was velvet-edged steel.
"Step away from him."
The envoys paled, bowing stiffly.
"Your Majesty. We meant no disrespect—"
"Leave."
They vanished.
Rui didn't turn. "You were watching?"
Li Yuan stepped beside him, his voice low. "I won't apologize for protecting you."
"I don't need protection. I need the truth."
Li Yuan's jaw clenched. "Then hear it: the court is splitting. Some fear what you are. Others want to use it. No one sees you as just mine anymore."
"Was I ever?" Rui whispered bitterly.
Li Yuan's hand caught his.
"You still are. If you'll let yourself be."
Rui looked at him then, searching for a lie—and finding none.
Behind the Curtain
That same night, in a sealed chamber deep beneath the banquet hall, Minister Yu Lian met with six shadowed figures. His voice was calm, but firm.
"He drank nothing. The poison failed."
One of the shadows spoke. "Then the next step?"
Yu Lian's smile was faint.
"We let the boy live for now. The emperor's affection blinds him. It will be his undoing."
Another shadow growled, "And the foreign kings? They demand action."
"They shall have it." Yu Lian's eyes gleamed. "We offer them bait. A hunt. A purge."
He laid out a map. On it—marked in red—was the very route Li Yuan and Rui would take in a fortnight to visit the southern provinces.
"They'll be alone. Away from the capital's protections. That is when we strike."
The room echoed with silent approval.