The imperial banquet hall gleamed with divine splendor, dressed in reds, golds, and silks that shimmered with every flicker of lantern light. The scent of sandalwood hung gently in the air, mingling with the fragrance of fresh orchids that lined the marble paths. This was not just any feast — it was a carefully orchestrated occasion by the Second Empress, Lady Lee, to begin the process of selecting the main wife and concubines for her son, the Third Prince, Li Jun.
But today's audience extended far beyond tradition.
The Emperor himself graced the upper dais in full ceremonial robes, flanked by all three Empresses, the royal concubines, and the five imperial princes seated in a private tiered pavilion to the side — visible to all. Each prince bore his own unique aura: the First Prince cold and noble, the Second calculating, the Fourth youthful and brash, the Fifth quiet and observant, and the Third Prince, Li Jun, cloaked in quiet confidence and returning from war.
It was a rare sight — every royal figure gathered in one space, their attention focused on a single group: the twenty daughters of the Empire's most prestigious noble families, brought here to show their beauty, grace, and virtue.
Only noblewomen and their mothers were permitted to attend. The banquet was grand, yet intimate, wrapped in layers of formality and hidden ambitions.
At the center of it all, among the quiet crowd, stood Anne, dressed modestly in river-blue hanfu embroidered with silver cranes. Her mother stood beside her, face composed, though her grip on Anne's hand tightened slightly when her daughter's name appeared on the roster of performers.
"She… she had no training," her mother thought, alarmed. "She never—she was never interested in such things. What is she doing?"
Rumors had always followed Anne like a shadow — that she was a girl with no presence, no status, and no talent. No one knew her well, and most didn't care to. Yet here she was, standing in the spotlight before the most powerful eyes in the realm.
The Second Empress rose from her place beside the Emperor, her presence commanding silence. Clad in deep jade robes and crowned with a phoenix hairpin, she addressed the hall.
"Today is a day of celebration and tradition. But more than that," she said, "it is a test of grace, wisdom, and worth. My son, the Third Prince, has returned. The Empire watches not for beauty alone — but for strength of mind and depth of soul."
She raised her hand. "Step forward, daughters of the realm. Let your gifts speak."
The performances began.
One by one, five young women came forward — each showcasing their practiced talents: classical poetry, guqin, calligraphy, elegant dances, and intricate embroidery.
Some earned nods. Others fumbled. The audience was polite, but no eyes lingered long.
Until the sixth name was announced.
"Lady Anne of House Qing."
A quiet murmur rose. Many turned their heads in disbelief.
"Anne? She's performing?"
"Wasn't she the silent one? No talent at all?"
"Why is she even here?"
Even her mother looked as if she had seen a ghost. But Anne stepped forward, her posture straight, her face calm — though her heart beat like a war drum inside.
From his seat, Li Jun leaned slightly forward.
He had not expected her to participate either.
"Let the world see you," the voice of his mother, the Second Empress, echoed in his head — and now, strangely, applied to Anne.
Anne bowed deeply. "With Your Majesty's permission, I will present a painting and a dance."
Some in the audience chuckled.
"A painting? She's reaching."
But no one interrupted as she took her place in the center, lifting a long scroll and unfurling it across the display table. Then, dipping her brush into black ink, she began to paint.
Her strokes were swift but flowing, as though guided by something deep within — a mountain bathed in mist, a stream snaking down from its cliffs, a girl kneeling beside a deer, their eyes locked in shared peace. Around them bloomed quiet plum blossoms.
It was not courtly or technical. It was spiritual.
Gasps spread like wildfire.
Even the Emperor lifted a brow.
The Fourth Prince, barely seventeen, whispered, "That… looks alive."
The painting told a story — and every stroke had soul.
But Anne wasn't finished.
She moved to the center of the hall as music began. Not courtly rhythms, but something older, wilder — as if the wind itself played the strings. She danced with long sleeves flowing like waves, her movements capturing both elegance and mystery. Every twirl echoed her painting — nature, freedom, and something beyond the palace walls.
There was silence when she finished.
Deep, stunned silence.
Even her mother, speechless, covered her mouth in awe. This was not the daughter she had known — shy, soft-spoken, fading into corners. This was a woman of talent. A woman of presence.
Anne bowed deeply. "These are what I offer tonight. I have others I will share… if the occasion calls for it."
It was a quiet promise. A mystery kept.
Because the truth was, Anne had many talents — learned in private, away from judging eyes. She could sing ancient tunes and play rare instruments. She had studied medicine in secret under her grandfather's tutelage. And more curiously, she held an unspoken gift — the ability to speak to animals, to sense their thoughts, their pain, their joy. But these, she would not reveal. Not yet.
Not here.
Li Jun, behind his mask of calm, clenched his jaw slightly.
Pride burned inside him. This was Anne. His Anne. The girl he thought lost to time — now blossoming before the entire court.
But jealousy slipped in like poison.
Every prince's eyes were fixed on her.
The Second Prince leaned and muttered, "Unexpected. She would suit a prince's court."
The First Prince, usually silent, said simply, "She is not ordinary."
The youngest prince laughed, "I want her as my concubine!"
Li Jun's grip on his fan tightened.
She wasn't theirs to want.
---
As Anne returned to her seat, the atmosphere shifted.
Now the air buzzed not with polite admiration, but curiosity… and danger. She had stepped out of obscurity and into the storm.
The Second Empress, though silent, tapped her fan gently on her palm — her eyes unreadable.
The Emperor himself gave a single approving nod. That meant more than words.
The rest of the night flowed with performance after performance, but the taste had changed. Nothing that followed seemed to linger the way Anne's presence had. Some girls stumbled, distracted by the earlier display.
By the end of the evening, only five girls had shown their talents.
The Second Empress rose once more.
"Tonight's banquet marks the beginning. I am pleased by what I've seen. But the path to selection is not a single night — it is a series of trials. We will continue in the next gathering."
She looked directly at Anne for the briefest second.
"Talent blooms with time. Some flowers open at dusk, others at dawn."
With that, the hall slowly began to empty.
As Anne and her mother exited the venue, nobles whispered behind them — of her mystery, her beauty, her sudden rise.
Anne felt none of it. Only the weight of a dozen gazes, some admiring… others calculating.
But the heaviest gaze?
It came from the shadows.
Li Jun, still in his seat, watched her until she disappeared beyond the garden pillars.
"She's not the girl I left," he whispered to himself.
"But she's still mine."
Or was she?
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End of Chapter 18
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