The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

Inside the Shuying Pavilion, the white smoke of agarwood wafted out from the mouth of the lion-shaped incense burner.

It slowly swirls and unfurls among the beams of light shining through the crackled window, like a veil being manipulated by an invisible hand.

When Yan Ci's tentative line floated down lightly, even the tiny specks of incense ash in the air seemed to pause for a moment, suspended in the pillar of light.

Tang Xiye paused in her hand, her fingertips stroking the celadon cup.

Beneath the wide sleeves adorned with black gold dragon patterns, slender, jade-like fingers slowly closed.

"Yan Qing," the emperor said without raising his eyes, his voice as calm as a frozen lake in the twelfth lunar month, yet with undercurrents beneath, "do not speak recklessly."

Emperor Tang Xiye remained expressionless, yet the silent majesty befitting a supreme ruler instantly permeated the entire Shuying Pavilion.

The flickering candlelight cast shadows on his deep features, coating his handsome face, which exuded the grandeur of mountains and rivers, with a cold, hard, and insurmountable boundary.

"Oh—it turns out I was being arbitrary."

Yan Ci, however, seemed completely unaware, and continued to lean leisurely against the vermilion railing by the window.

Her long, silver-gray hair flew in the wind.

His gaze pierced through the sparse and dense plum grove, remaining fixed on the receding figure in blue and white, a faint smile playing on his lips.

For the past five years, he, Chen Yao's strategist, has been extremely busy.

It is necessary to form alliances and maneuver among various countries to balance the power of all parties.

They also had to oversee the complex affairs of the major military regions and allocate supplies and personnel.

The most troublesome thing is being ordered to clean up all the messes caused by that Princess Mirror.

He has done many absurd things like recently leading troops to rob the Seventh Pavilion's goods.

"I thought that Your Majesty had left the harem empty and the position of Empress vacant for many years because you were waiting for someone to grow up."

Yan Ci slowly unfolded the ink bamboo folding fan in his hand, the two characters "Watching Clouds" on the fan surface were written in a wild and unrestrained style.

His gaze remained fixed on the strikingly beautiful couple in blue and white below, and his tone grew increasingly enigmatic:

"After all, I investigated years ago—Your Highness, she was personally sent to the palace by the Prince of Beichen. If Your Majesty truly has no intention of doing so, then…"

The fan ribs tapped gently against the palm, producing a clear and melodious sound.

"It was I who misspoke and presumptuously guessed His Majesty's thoughts."

He fiddled with the folding fan, but his gaze never left Tang Xixue.

The Princess Jing of today is completely different from the one who acted erratically over the past five years; she is more like the lovely and adorable little princess from many years ago.

No wonder.

No wonder His Majesty has been so distracted lately when reviewing memorials, his vermilion pen hovering in mid-air, unaware that the ink has stained the military reports.

It turns out the bright moon has returned, and the old friends remain the same.

Tang Xiye finally raised her eyes.

Something complex and profound was churning in those eyes, which were as calm as an ancient abyss.

Like lava sealed by towering ice, its surface is calm and still, but its interior is hot enough to incinerate everything.

"Zhizhi," he spoke slowly, each word carrying immense weight, striking the peacock-blue velvet carpet on the floor, "she will always be my sister."

"Regardless of whether she is related to me by blood, she is the most noble princess of Chenyao, Princess Jingyue, whom I personally conferred the title upon."

As long as he reigns on the throne, she will forever enjoy the highest honor and protection in the world.

Whether the princess's identity was real or not was always up to him to decide.

He said she was, and no one in the world dared to question it in the slightest.

In this life, he had long been determined to be her shield, her sword, the last unbreakable barrier between her and this treacherous world and treacherous society.

"And what about Shen Yan?" Yan Ci raised an eyebrow slightly, his fan waving gently, creating a barely perceptible breeze. "Your Majesty—she's your own sister, isn't she? Why don't you spare even the slightest thought or concern for her situation?"

"What does it have to do with me?" Tang Xiye said indifferently, as if discussing an insignificant object. "Caring for her is the late emperor's unfulfilled duty. If she truly has filial piety, she can go to the imperial mausoleum to build a hut and observe mourning, thus fulfilling this father-daughter relationship."

The royal family has no shortage of brothers and sisters.

He had plenty of ways to teach his unruly younger siblings to be obedient.

There are ways to make them understand what it means for the wrath of Heaven to be unpredictable, and what the difference is between a ruler and his subjects.

"Your Majesty," Yan Ci withdrew his gaze from the downstairs and instead stared intently at the emperor's expressionless face, a complex emotion flickering in his eyes, "Do you truly not need your advisor, me, to offer some counsel for you and the young prince?"

He was truly impressed.

This is clearly love without realizing it. Could he really think that what he feels is brotherly and sisterly affection?

Yan Ci turned around, his white robes gleaming coolly in the light filtering through the carved window lattice, which further accentuated his refined features and sharp gaze.

"No matter how beautifully the plum blossoms in this garden bloom, their fragrance like a sea of ​​snow, a scene of poetic beauty, has Your Majesty truly taken a single glance at them since stepping into this Shuying Pavilion?"

He paused, then spoke softly:

"Your gaze is entirely fixed on one person."

What kind of older brother would stare at his younger sister's figure so intently?

What brother would have such a chilling, almost torture-like look in his eyes when he sees another man approaching his sister?

It didn't seem like they were examining a subject; it was more like they were examining... a heinous criminal who coveted treasures.

Your Majesty clearly spilled the vinegar jar.

"Is she really that pretty? Uh, Princess Orihime is very pretty."

Yan Ci had to admit that the young prince was absolutely stunning here.

She wore the same blue dress as Shen Yan today, and it was truly embarrassing for whoever looked worse.

Clearly, it wasn't their young prince who was embarrassed.

"Yan Qing," Tang Xiye's gaze swept over him like a frost-covered blade, her fingertips tapping lightly on the table, "Stop staring at my Zhizhi—what, do you also want to covet my precious pearl?"

A chilling smile curved his lips, each word seeming to be dipped in ice water:

"You might want to consider whether you're a good match."

"..."

Yan Ci's hand holding the fan paused almost imperceptibly, then he chuckled and shook his head.

They don't even allow others to look at them for more than a few seconds?

This possessiveness is so tight and suffocating, it's almost as if it wants to be woven into a person's very bones and blood.

Does Your Majesty not feel as if you are standing on the edge of an abyss or walking on thin ice?

He suddenly recalled the stories in ancient books about locking birds in golden cages.

I wonder if Your Highness feels breathless?

Did it ever have the thought of flapping its wings and escaping?

If that day ever comes...

Yan Ci raised his eyes and looked into the emperor's unfathomable eyes.

The dark turmoil in his eyes left him with no doubt.

If Mingzhu dares to part with it, the emperor who holds the reins of power over the land will likely turn the entire world upside down.

Even if it means burning everything, we must find her and lock her back in an even stronger cage.

"Your Majesty, haven't you ever heard the saying?"

"The strategist—never goes to the battlefield."