Chapter 74 — The Queen's Gift
After arriving at the palace, the carriage came to a slow stop.
Minwha and the other dancers stepped down one by one, their movements careful and restrained.
Waiting for them was a young eunuch.
"This way," he said politely, gesturing for them to follow.
Without question, they obeyed.
He led them through quiet corridors, past towering walls and guarded gates, until they reached a secluded area prepared specifically for performers.
The moment they entered, they realized they were not the first.
Other performers were already there.
Musicians. Dancers. Entertainers of all kinds.
The air was filled with hushed voices and cautious glances.
Minwha remained silent.
She simply led her group toward an empty space and sat down.
The others followed.
No one dared to wander.
This was the palace, after all—one wrong move could cost more than their place here.
And so—they waited.
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Meanwhile, in his chamber, the Crown Prince sat quietly alone.
His thoughts far from the palace… far from the banquet.
Far from everything.
Until the door to his chambers opened.
Two figures stepped in.
"Mo Tian," a voice called out casually. "Don't tell me you're still sitting here thinking about her."
The voice belonged to no one but his best friend.
The Crown Prince slowly lifted his gaze.
"If I don't think about her," he replied calmly, "who should I think about?"
A slight pause.
"You?"
"Hey—hey, calm down," the young man laughed, raising his hands. "Why are you getting annoyed? I was just joking."
Before the Crown Prince could respond—
A softer voice spoke.
"What are you both talking about?"
The girl stepped forward.
She was none other than Shi Yao—the Imperial Teacher's granddaughter. She was someone the Crown Prince had always treated like a younger sister.
"And someone who—loved him far more than that."
After all, she had been his legal wife in his past life.
She looked between the two of them, confused.
The young man grinned.
"Oh, you don't know?" he said lightly. "Our Crown Prince here… is in love."
Shi Yao froze.
"What?" she asked, her voice tightening and pausing slightly. "Who is she?"
The Crown Prince did not answer but the silence was enough.
The young man continued without hesitation.
"She's a performer," he said. "From Hansheng Ge. A… gisaeng."
Shi Yao's expression changed instantly.
Shock.
Disbelief.
"…Are you out of your mind?" she said, unable to hold back. "The Queen would never allow it."
But even as she said it a small, fragile hope rose in her chest.
Maybe this would end before it began.
But the Crown Prince's next words crushed it completely.
"I already have a plan," he said calmly.
Both of them turned to him.
"As long as she is pure," he continued, his voice steady, certain, "it doesn't matter where she came from… or what she was."
"She can still be my wife, my legal wife".
His gaze lowered slightly.
"I know her."
"And there is nothing more pure than her."
Shi Yao felt something inside her crack quietly.
Completely.
"Tomorrow," the Crown Prince said, almost to himself, "after the banquet ends…"
He lifted his gaze again.
"I will ask Mother for permission to marry her."
Silence filled the room.
Then—
"Really?!" the young man exclaimed, his face lighting up. "That's great! Congratulations, brother!"
His excitement was genuine.
Unfiltered.
But beside him Shi Yao stood still.
Her hands clenched slightly at her sides. Her heart… felt like it was being torn apart.
And yet she forced a smile.
"…Congratulations," she said softly.
Her voice did not betray her.
But her eyes— For just a moment—Did.
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The banquet hall came alive as evening fell.
By the time the ceremony was set to begin, the vast palace hall was already filled to the brim.
High-ranking officials of Great Liang had taken their seats, along with honored guests from allied nations and distant lands.
Anyone of importance—anyone deemed worthy—had been invited.
Tables overflowed with fine dishes and exquisite wine. Laughter and quiet conversation wove through the air as guests waited for the arrival of the royal family.
Then—
"The performance will begin shortly."
At the announcement, the hall gradually settled.
The first group of dancers entered.
A few young women, graceful and well-trained, performed beautifully. Their movements were elegant, their coordination flawless. When they finished, applause followed.
Then another group came.
And another.
One performance after another filled the evening, each dancer stepping forward, performing, and leaving under the watchful eyes of nobles and royalty alike.
Time passed, and evening slowly gave way to night.
Then suddenly—
"The King, the Queen, and the Crown Prince have arrived!"
At once, every guest rose to their feet in perfect unison, voices echoed through the grand hall:
"We greet Your Majesty, Her Highness, and the Crown Prince of Great Liang!"
They guest repeated it as the three walked forward.
Step by step, the King led, the Queen beside him, and the Crown Prince just behind—until they reached the elevated throne at the head of the hall.
Only after they were seated did the guests finally lower themselves back down.
The King spoke briefly—his voice steady, authoritative.
"This banquet," he declared, "is held to celebrate the Crown Prince's innocence and to make amends for the injustice he has suffered."
At his words, the guests rose once more.
"Congratulations, Your Highness!"
Cups were raised high.
The Crown Prince lifted his own cup in acknowledgment before drinking. Only after the toast ended did the banquet resume.
Performances continued—but now, each performer bowed deeply before beginning, their respect clear, their movements more careful under the royal gaze.
The night carried on, and wine flowed freely.
Laughter grew louder.
Some guests remained composed, others grew flushed with drink, and a few had already begun to tire.
It was time for the final performance.
This time, the Queen herself leaned slightly toward the King.
"A special performance," she said softly, "one I have personally prepared for Your Majesty."
Her voice wasn't particularly low, and a few nearby guests caught her words.
That alone drew attention.
The King's interest was piqued—and so were the guests'.
A quiet anticipation spread across the hall.
Then the Queen spoke clearly:
"Begin."
For a moment, nothing happened.
The hall remained still.
Then suddenly several men dressed in red stepped forward.
Without hesitation, they moved toward the candle stands lining the hall, and extinguished them.
One by one.
Flames disappeared into smoke, until only a controlled few remained, casting a dim, focused glow over the center stage.
Murmurs rippled through the hall.
Such boldness… within the palace itself.
Even the King straightened slightly, his gaze sharpening with interest.
Something unusual was about to unfold.
And for the first time that night—the entire hall was truly paying attention.
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The moment the hall fell silent, not a single sound could be heard.
Then suddenly a soft ringing echoed from afar.
Clear. Delicate. Rhythmic.
Bell after bell chimed through the darkness, faint at first, then gradually growing louder.
Nearer and closer.
Until at last, the source stepped into the dim light and came to a graceful stop at the center of the hall.
It was then everyone realized the sound came not from instruments—but from the bells fastened around her waist, wrists, and ankles.
A murmur swept through the room.
The woman before them wore garments unlike anything seen within the palace.
A flowing skirt, long and layered, split high enough to reveal glimpses of her legs whenever she moved. Above it, a fitted top left her arms and midriff bare in a way no noble lady would ever dare.
It was far too bold. Far too revealing.
Scandalous by every standard of the court.
A thin veil covered her face, hiding her identity from the hall, only her eyes could be seen.
The moment the dancer entered, the Crown Prince felt something strange stir within him.
The figure. The height. The shape of her frame.
For one brief moment, only one name crossed his mind.
Minwha.
But he quickly dismissed it. No… it couldn't be her.
What would she be doing here?
He kept his expression calm, though his eyes lingered a second longer than they should have.
Then he looked away.
What he did not know was that beside the King, the Queen was watching him closely.
Every shift in his gaze, every flicker of emotion.
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The ministers and nobles were already in an uproar.
Murmurs spread through the hall at the sight of the dancer's clothing.
And yet no one looked away.
Then suddenly— The zither struck.
The guqin and drums followed.
The tempo came fast and sharp.
And she moved.
The dance was unlike anything they had ever seen—strange, mesmerizing, and dangerously seductive. It held both beauty and provocation in equal measure.
The slit of her skirt swayed open with every step, silver bells ringing wildly at her ankles.
Her hips rolled with the beat, swift and mesmerizing, while her hands stretched outward like wings before tracing slow, deliberate paths through the air.
Every movement was fluid.
Controlled and dangerously alluring.
The younger nobles sat frozen, unable to hide their fascination.The noblewomen exchanged glances, equally shocked and captivated.
Even the older ministers felt their faces warm.
The King, despite himself, could not deny the performance stirred something in him.
But the Crown Prince did not watch, his gaze remained lowered.
He had no interest in anyone who was not Minwha.
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Minwha spun once.
Twice.
Her body bent and twisted with impossible grace, supple as a serpent shedding old skin. The bells cried louder with each turn, each flicker of movement sending waves of sound through the hall.
Her palms struck together once.
Then twice.
At once, several men dressed in red rushed onto the stage.
One seized her right hand another took her left.
Together they drew her backward and turned her so her back faced the audience.
The bells rang sharply.
That was the moment the Crown Prince looked up again. Only to see the dancers back turned toward the audience.
Something tightened in his chest.
Then suddenly, movement.
Like a flash, a woman stepped forward and removed the veil from Minwha's face.
Gasps rippled through the hall, the men turned her once more to face the audience.
Her head remained lowered.
And before she even raised her face, the Crown Prince felt it.
A sharp, sinking feeling.He knew her.
He was certain of it.
Then suddenly she lifted her face. The hall seemed to stop breathing.
Gasps filled the hall.
"Beautiful..."
"So this was the Queen's surprise..."
"No wonder..."
Whispers spread like wildfire.
But the Crown Prince heard none of it, because all he saw was Minwha.
Minwha.
Standing before the entire court.
Adorned for their eyes. Moving for their pleasure.
Something dark and immediate rose inside him.
He wanted to go to her. To pull her away.
To take her out of that hall and never let anyone look at her again.
He began to rise.
Then suddenly a hand pressed lightly onto his arm.
Firm enough to stop him.
He turned sharply.
The hand belonged to the Queen.
Her expression did not change, but her eyes warned him clearly.
Sit down.
His jaw tightened, but he obeyed.
He remained seated—helpless, forced to watch.
Only one thought kept him from losing control completely.
She is only here to dance.
Nothing more.
If only he knew how wrong he was.
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Before anyone could recover, the music surged again.
Minwha's body flowed like water, smooth and ungraspable. The men released her, retreating as women dancers entered and circled around her like spirits drawn by flame.
Their hands swept near her arms, her waist, her shoulders—never lingering, only creating the illusion of countless hands moving over her as she danced at the center of it all.
The men at the edges watched as though entranced.
Everything about it was unfamiliar.
Strange and provocative.
Impossible to ignore.
Then, just as suddenly, the music began to slow.
The fever of the dance faded into softer notes.
One by one, the surrounding dancers withdrew, leaving Minwha alone beneath the dim light.
Her body folded inward slowly, gracefully, as though all the energy that had burned so fiercely was finally spent.
The final note trembled through the hall.
Then silence returned.