“Chu Junyi!” Li Xinyue’s voice was a flare of anger.
Outside the gate, Chu Junyi felt the hair on his scalp prickle. He knew a storm was coming.
In the imperial hall, the Emperor Mingde almost choked on his tea. He had never expected the pair who came to pay respects to be Li Xinyue and Chu Junyi. If that were true, then his own Rong’er—was she being sent off to the far northwest?
The thought of this mismatched pairing left him strangely unsettled. There was, he admitted to himself against his better judgment, a certain odd suitability to the sight before him. That only made his feelings more conflicted; should he approve or oppose it? He pressed a hand to his knee, rubbed it impatiently, and, seeing the Empress’s face grow paler with discomfort, dropped his eyes and looked away.
Li Xinyue stood beside Chu Junyi with an air of resigned defiance. There was nothing more to say; events had carried them this far. She recalled the scene a few days ago—how resolute she had been, how she would have defied her father to marry the young marquis—and the contrast made her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She could hardly bring herself to meet the Emperor’s gaze. Worse, she was furious at Chu Junyi for deceiving her.
Chu Junyi had, it seemed, no shame at all. Since things had come to this, he appeared to think the emperor could deal with the consequences.
Emperor Mingde’s mouth twitched. Deal with them? What else could he do now but turn a blind eye? He had every reason to suspect that this fellow had engineered the whole mess. If it hadn’t been for him, the mistaken assignments would have been corrected as soon as they were discovered—yet not only had he not corrected them, he had compounded the error, letting it stand. That made him the architect of this scandal, no question about it. How did Commander Xiao conduct the imperial guards if such things could happen on his watch?
“A little slip-up,” the commander had said. “But it’s been settled.”
A little slip-up? Settled? The emperor could barely swallow his tea. His mood soured even further. He sent them away with a perfunctory cup and a red envelope, eager to be rid of them.
Li Xinyue refused to follow Chu Junyi. Once outside the palace gates she turned and walked in the opposite direction without looking back. Her anger had hardened into a small, simmering resentment.
“Lian’er, let’s go.” Chu Junyi called after her in a low voice.
“Princess… but the prince consort—” Lian’er stood frozen in the road, torn between the departing princess and the hurt look on Chu Junyi’s face. She frowned with embarrassment, unable to decide.
“Go after your princess,” Chu Junyi said quietly, watching Li Xinyue’s silhouette recede. His eyes dimmed; a heavy melancholy settled over him. He had thought it was merely a child’s temper—that she would bridle and then recover. Now it seemed she was truly angry.
“Princess, wait!” Lian’er flashed a quick bow to Chu Junyi and hurried after Li Xinyue.
Instead of going to the Chu residence, Li Xinyue went straight back to the Princess Mansion. She locked herself in her rooms and smashed things against the floor. Nothing had happened—so why had no one told her anything? She had swallowed bowl after bowl of “avoidance soup,” fretting for months until she felt herself losing her mind. She had even turned down Murong Xiu, all because she wanted to make up for a wrong she thought she had done to Chu Junyi.
What a ridiculous waste. She had tried so hard to repair the mistake, only to find that in the end she had only brought more pain—Murong Xiu, the real injured party, had suffered because of her.
If Chu Junyi had not lied, she would never have burned bridges with Murong Xiu; she would still be with him now, and Chu Junyi would be none the worse for it. That would have been the best outcome. Yet here they were—she and Chu Junyi entangled in something neither of them wanted, and now she didn’t know how to make amends to Murong Xiu. The thought infuriated her. She had the perfect ending within reach and had somehow let it slip away because of Chu Junyi. It maddened her.
A knock sounded at the door. “Prince Consort, what are you doing—”
Li Xinyue swung the door open, eyes flashing.
Chu Junyi stood there with a grimy bundle in one hand. He walked straight toward her, and when he saw her glare he halted and lifted his chin.
Li Xinyue snorted in disdain.
Chu Junyi felt his chest tighten, but he had made up his mind to press on. “Where you are, I will be,” he said. “In the Chu mansion, in the Princess Mansion—I’ll be where you are.”
His voice was steady, unyielding. The sunlight fell across her as she leaned against the balcony rail, angry and yet strangely adorable—simple and pure in her plain dress, like a sunlit figure. It was difficult not to be affected. How else could he get close to her if he didn’t try?
“If you want to hate me, hate me,” he added softly. “I won’t regret it.”
Li Xinyue felt her heart thud. She could not bring herself to be utterly cruel. At last she sighed, “Fine. Do as you like.” She turned and closed the door.
Chu Junyi froze where he stood. The tension inside him unclenched into a fragile relief; the corner of his mouth twitched into a small, grateful smile.
Lian’er led him to a room on the first floor directly opposite Li Xinyue’s bedchamber. That way, she reasoned, he could hear whatever she did and remain near her.
“You’ll have to make do here for now,” she told him gently.
“It’s fine,” Chu Junyi said, tossing his bundle into an empty wardrobe. He began to unpack, settling in as if he meant to stay.
Lian’er sighed inwardly. Both the prince consort and the princess were good people—so why did things between them have to be so complicated? Love was a messy business.
That night Chu Junyi lay propped on his elbow, staring up and wondering what Li Xinyue might be doing. Was she in her study? In her chamber? He could not tell, and the uncertainty crawled under his skin.
Li Xinyue turned restlessly in bed, sleepless. She had heard that Murong Xiu had stood before the Emperor and asked for her hand to save her once—he had even revealed his own family secrets. The scandal surrounding the Dingguo Duke’s household had reached her ears. She felt guilty and helpless, unable to mend the harm she had done. That guilt burned the most.
It was Chu Junyi’s fault, she told herself—but thinking of him only brought to mind the confusion of last night. The memory flushed her cheeks and set her blood hot; she could not sleep, and every thought twisted her mood anew. She wondered if he, wherever he was, could be sleeping soundly. How dare he rest so peacefully?
No. She sat up and shouted into the night, “Chu Junyi! Get up here this instant!”
Moonlight spilled through the trees. A breeze stirred the shadows. Meanwhile, in a different room, candlelight trembled across Murong Xiu’s face. He toyed with a silver bracelet between his fingers, eyes empty.
His mind replayed the scene from days before: the day Li Xinyue had rejected him and, in the same breath, confessed something that had shocked him to the bone.
“I have been with Lord Chu,” she had said, every word forced out with difficulty. “That night when you proposed… I was drunk… and we—”
She had spoken each syllable with painful courage; he had listened with equal pain, straining to catch every word. If only he had not been turned away by her that day… would any of what followed have happened? Would they have already been together now, if only things had gone differently?