“We're leaving already?” Su Mingyu looked at Prince Yu. “We just got here.”
“You were only allowed to look, not to mingle,” Prince Yu said, his face darkening. The displeasure in his tone was unmistakable.
“All right.” Su Mingyu didn't press it. She had learned enough of his forces for now; there was no point in arguing.
Seeing her unusually compliant air, a faint smile flickered in Prince Yu's eyes. “Before we go, is there anywhere you want to see? I can accompany you.”
She shook her head without hesitation. “No. There's nothing in the capital worth clinging to anymore.”
“And your shop?” he prompted.
“It’s running smoothly,” Su Mingyu replied immediately. “Whether I go or not won’t change much.”
He had expected her to be stubborn, but when she spoke of abandoning everything from the past, she meant it completely. They returned to the mansion and headed toward the inner court. Zhizhu happened to be there; she looked up and saw the two of them walking side by side. Her face changed, and without a word she fled back to her room, slamming the door so hard the boards rang.
Su Mingyu sighed silently. Prince Yu lifted a brow. “Your maid does have spirit,” he said. “She was afraid of me before, but she can act with pride when she wants.”
“If you have no more business, I’ll go rest,” Su Mingyu said, pressing her lips together.
“Go, then.” He nodded.
She had only taken a couple of steps when he called her back. “Mingyu.”
She stopped and turned toward him.
He smiled, a little insistently. “I’ll have someone bring you clothes. Wear that set.”
“Okay.” She was puzzled, but she bowed to the instruction.
Watching her soften like that made something inside him hum like ants beneath the skin—an odd, pleasant itch. He enjoyed it.
When the package arrived, Su Mingyu was unprepared for its extravagance. The set was so ornate and heavy that, without seeing the color, one might have mistaken it for a bridal robe. Xia Mian, looking at the three-layered, voluminous garments, couldn't hide her exasperation. “Mistress, Prince Yu hasn’t given this to flatter you—he’s set you like an exhibit he can parade. Look at this dress; you’ll be roasted alive under all those layers.”
Su Mingyu didn't like it either, but she had reasons, and for those she put it on.
When she stepped into the main hall with the measured “lotus steps,” the room fell utterly still. Su Mingyu's figure was long and graceful, every movement poised; the clink of her ornaments kept time with her walk. Her hair was swept into a drifting-cloud chignon, studded with pearl flowers; a single pearl rested at her brow. Her skin held a faint blush, her brows arched like the moon, her eyes bright as stars—cold, refined beauty that might have stopped a kingdom's breath.
Prince Yu had always known she was attractive, but seeing her fully dressed and composed like this surprised him. He rose and offered his hand, inviting her to take it. After a single glance, she relented and placed her hand in his.
With the court watching, he led her to the high platform and seated her at his side. “It is my birthday,” he announced. “All who have come are my guests. Be at ease—consider this your home.”
Applause thundered through the hall. As the clapping died, a line of dancers in pale pink flowed in to the music, their bodies and faces beautiful enough to draw more applause. Prince Yu barely glanced at them. He looked instead to Su Mingyu. “My taste was right,” he said softly. “You look lovely in that set.”
“Thank you for the gift, Prince Yu,” she answered coolly, giving him a measured smile that sounded like gratitude.
He watched that reluctant smile and felt a flush of satisfaction. He knew she wouldn't give herself to him so easily; her reluctance made each small concession taste sweeter.
The first dance finished and the dancers withdrew. Prince Yu signaled for the next performances to continue. Su Mingyu leaned close and murmured in his ear, “I just remembered—the birthday gift I prepared for you. I forgot to fetch it. I should go get it.”
“Have a servant fetch it,” he said, eyebrow lifted. “There's no reason for you to be the one to run about.”
She pressed her lips together. “It was prepared by me. I would rather retrieve it myself.”
He saw her insistence and finally acquiesced. “Go then.”
Su Mingyu slipped out of the banquet hall and hurried to the dancers' resting area behind the stage. The music inside had been gentle, but suddenly the tempo thickened, the rhythm sharpening into a defiant beat. Prince Yu frowned and was about to ask what had changed when a different troupe entered—this time clad in willow-green.
They were not like the previous dancers. Each step landed exactly on the music’s accent, crisp and cheerful but with an unusual elegance. As the music halted for a breath, the dancers froze; then, with drumlike clicks, the rhythm surged and the women burst into motion. They scattered open like a flowering bloom, and among them came a girl carrying a zither.
She sat with the practiced ease of someone born to music, setting the instrument across her lap. When her slender fingers plucked the strings, the zither sang—clear, full, and haunting. The sound blended with the orchestral rhythm and the dancers, weaving a scene so exquisite it stole the breath from everyone watching.
Prince Yu stared, stunned, recognizing the figure among the dancers: it was Su Mingyu. He had believed she hated him, perhaps even wanted to tear him apart. He had never expected her to have prepared such a surprise.
Her piece finished quickly yet left the hall yearning for more. As she rose to gather the instrument, many in attendance still sat in a daze, unwilling to let the moment end.