Convincing Yan Wuhen to return to his disguise had not been easy, keeping him in the shadows even less so. But in the end, Wuhen relented, slipping back into illusion with that same dangerous smile, agreeing to wait, to watch and to move only when necessary.
That alone changed everything.
Ningyan had not planned to attend the banquet. Now, he had no choice.
Because now there was a way to stop this.
His chambers were bright and filled.
Servants surrounded him, layers of silk and spirit-threaded robes draped over their arms, colors shifting like light across water.
Gold. White. Azure. Crimson.
"How about this, Your Highness? It brings out your eyes!" A white-gold robe was lifted higher, shimmering faintly.
"No, no, this one." Another stepped forward quickly.
"This suits His Highness' beauty better."
"It complements his aura."
"It's too heavy, he needs something lighter."
The soft, insistent voices overlapped.
