Chapter 62

Chapter 62

(Slightly adjusted; no reread necessary)

Luo Qianyu remained impassive.

Seated on his knees beside the low table, he stole a glance at the Emperor reviewing memorials, then lowered his head again to tidy the maps. Yet, his mind was already plotting an escape.

What should he do?

An hour had passed. If he stalled any longer, the palace gates would be locked for the night.

His shoes had been snatched away. If they'd just been stolen, that would've been bad enough, but the Princess hadn't taken them with her—they were still somewhere in this very study... If he didn't retrieve them, could he possibly return home barefoot?

Yet, he couldn't openly search the Imperial Study. The Emperor's presence was too oppressive; he was the love rival Luo Qianyu treated with the utmost caution throughout the entire book. To be improperly dressed before His Majesty... If this Dog Emperor happened to be in a foul mood, wouldn't he find another reason to punish him again?

The Young Marquis gave a light cough, subtly tucking his plain white silk socks further back beneath his robe hem.

This Princess, why did she always seem to target him specifically?

Last time she caused a scene, his third sister was taken by the Ximo people, and the aphrodisiac was almost discovered.

The sound of the vermilion brush being placed on the inkstone snapped the youth back to attention. His brush tip gave a slight, involuntary tremble. He raised his gaze, looking past the mountainous pile of maps, just as the Emperor's voice rang out: "Luo Qianyu."

Luo Qianyu's heart jolted. "Your subject is here."

"Come here."

"..."

He didn't want to go.

His ankles, rubbed raw by the boots, burned with a fiery pain. Never having encountered such a situation before, he had no time to devise a countermeasure. The Young Marquis's Adam's apple bobbed, a faint flush gradually spreading up his neck. Steeling himself, he said, "Your Majesty, this subject... cannot rise."

"Cannot rise?" The Emperor lowered his gaze, his pupils appearing even more blood-red under the palace lamps. The man's tone lifted slightly, his voice languid. "We do not understand your meaning."

Luo Qianyu's voice grew smaller. "The maps are not yet sorted."

"No need to continue. Leave them as they are." The Emperor repeated, "Come here."

"..."

The Young Marquis defied the imperial order and remained motionless.

For a moment, the hall fell into a terrifying silence. A young eunuch serving nearby dared a quick glance upward, swallowing nervously.

When sound finally returned to the Imperial Study, it was the noise of the Emperor rising to his feet.

The youth's heart sank. Gathering the scrolls on the table with his sleeve, he pressed his lips together and said, "Your Majesty..."

When the Emperor stopped beside him, the youth faltered, his entire body freezing.

"Young Marquis Luo enters the palace for the examination, yet couldn't even be bothered to wear shoes?" The Emperor bent down. The plain-colored scholar's robe, mandated by regulation for tribute scholars to wear, should have covered the feet. The man's fingertips lifted the hem of the robe hanging over the table edge, his gaze falling on the exposed section of plain white silk sock. He gave a light laugh. "You have quite the nerve."

Luo Qianyu, knowing he was exposed, made a last-ditch effort. "This subject was wearing them."

"Then where are they now?"

"..."

His ankle was suddenly grasped. The youth sucked in a sharp breath. The area was reddened. The Emperor's thumb brushed over the chafed skin, pressing down with deliberate, moderate pressure on the swollen spot.

He was unaccustomed to anyone touching his feet. The Young Marquis's throat tightened. Instinctively, he tried to lift his foot to kick, but the grip in the palm tightened further. With a slight squeeze of the hand, the Emperor raised an eyebrow, his gaze darkening. "You wish to kick Us?"

The man's thumb rubbed against the ball of his foot through the sock. Luo Qianyu forcefully suppressed the impulse to kick, silently relaxing his muscles, and said in a small voice, "This subject would not dare."

"You came for the examination. How did you get yourself into such a mess?"

"..."

Luo Qianyu rolled his eyes inwardly, seething with silent anger. Did he *want* to end up like this?

The youth parted his lips. "This subject had new black official boots made for the palace examination. Unexpectedly, the soles pinched and the satin uppers chafed, leading to this current predicament."

The Emperor fell silent for a moment, then suddenly let out a low chuckle, mocking, "Finicky."

"This subject is not." The Young Marquis was fuming inside. More than anything, he hated being called finicky. Yet, the person before him was the Emperor. Why did he always step right on his sore spots?

Having cursed the Dog Emperor a thousand times in his heart, the youth averted his gaze and said, "Your Majesty lives a life of unparalleled luxury. If Your Majesty wore those boots, perhaps the swelling would be even worse than this subject's."

"Is that so?" The Emperor, however, did not pursue the topic further. Instead, he shifted the conversation. "How did you fare in the palace examination?"

The Young Marquis silently bowed his head. "Passably."

"Your handwriting," the Emperor chuckled lightly, "you actually have the nerve to say 'passably'."

Luo Qianyu choked, instinctively glancing at the map annotations he had just transcribed on the table... His handwriting indeed needed improvement—the horizontal strokes weren't level, the vertical ones weren't straight, resembling wild grass blown by the wind, identical to that in the provincial and palace examinations.

Luo Qianyu's face flushed red. "This subject has been practicing calligraphy."

Moreover, regardless of calligraphy, according to regulations, the palace examination papers were first screened by the examiners. Only those graded as top-tier were selected separately. The top ten papers would then be presented before the Emperor for his personal review.

In other words, the Emperor would not see his paper and naturally couldn't gauge his level. Just as he was thinking this, he saw the Emperor turn his back and, while walking away, slowly recite a passage:

"To break the barriers of the aristocratic families, universal education should be implemented, allowing both men and women to attend schools; emulate foreign maritime methods, encourage artisans to innovate, thus enriching the nation and strengthening its people; reform water transport, if steam-powered iron ships are introduced, connecting northern and southern trade routes..."

...

Huh? Why does this sound somewhat familiar?

Luo Qianyu bolted upright, his eyes widening.

Th-this... wasn't this the content from his palace examination paper? It was recited word for word, precisely the most outrageous, most heretical passage he had written!

Luo Qianyu stood up, his ears burning. He stepped onto the cold floor in his silk socks as he hurried after him. "Your Majesty!"

Only then did the Emperor stop walking, his voice halting as well. His gaze fell on Luo Qianyu's exposed ankle, where the red marks from the new boots remained, faintly visible at the edge of the white satin sock, like a few crimson plum blossom petals fallen on snow.

After staring for a moment, the Emperor said in a low voice, "Caught you."

He said, "Indeed, you are not wearing them."

"..."

So, he had been waiting for him here all along.

Now completely exposed with nowhere to hide, Luo Qianyu deflated. Since the other had already seen everything, he might as well abandon all pretense and stop covering up.

The Young Marquis pressed his lips together, his gaze stealthily darting toward the imperial desk. He said in a low voice, "This subject's boots... might be near Your Majesty's imperial desk."

The emperor raised a brow slightly, the corners of his eyes tinged with an amused smile as he said, "Minister Luo, you have some nerve, daring to ask me for your shoes."

"No..." Luo Qianyu's ears flushed hot, and he instinctively refuted, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he realized they were inappropriate. He could only explain, "Your Majesty, it was Her Highness the Princess Royal earlier..."

"The Princess Royal?" the emperor said gravely. "Are you saying the Princess took your shoes? She is a princess of the imperial house—what would she want with a minister's boots?"

If you could figure out a crazy person's thoughts, they wouldn't be crazy, would they?

Luo Qianyu gave up entirely. He really wanted to go home, so he seized the opportunity to say, "That is not what I meant, Your Majesty. I dare not speculate recklessly."

The emperor watched him for a moment, then suddenly raised a hand and lightly tapped the table. "Someone."

The eunuch attendant turned and walked into the inner chamber, returning moments later with a pair of boots embroidered with dragon claws in hand.

The boots were embroidered with dragon-claw motifs, their soles soft and thick—clearly the work of the Imperial Workshops.

The young eunuch presented the boots to the Young Marquis, gesturing for him to take them. Luo Qianyu looked surprised, hesitating but not accepting them.

"Put them on."

"??" Luo Qianyu was taken aback. He glanced down at his bare feet and socks, then at the dragon boots, momentarily unsure whether he should accept them.

He wants me to wear *his* boots?

But what will the emperor wear?

"What, are my boots not good enough for you?" The emperor's tone was calm, yet it carried an inexplicable, icy pressure. "Or must I personally put them on for you?"

"..." The Young Marquis reached out and took them.

He carefully slipped them on. The boots were indeed a bit large, but inside, they were lined with a soft, plush cushion. Stepping into them felt far more comfortable than his chafing new boots—as if treading on clouds, even easing the pain in his ankles.

They were truly imperial-grade—not just comfortable but finely made.

The emperor asked, "Do they still chafe?"

Luo Qianyu shook his head. "No."

After a pause, he added softly, "Your Majesty has bigger feet than I do, so my toes don't reach the front."

The emperor was momentarily taken aback but said nothing, his gaze deepening slightly.

Luo Qianyu's brow furrowed as he suddenly recalled something. Vaguely, he remembered ancient etiquette—how items bestowed by the emperor are symbols of imperial majesty. According to ancestral law, a common subject has no right to usurp them. Even that folding fan, which he found extremely handy, had been gifted to him by the Crown Prince before his accession. After a brief moment of thought, the youth said, "Your Majesty's great kindness is something I dare not presume to enjoy."

"As an imperial item, even if bestowed upon me, I cannot wear it."

The emperor seemed to have anticipated this response. His tone was lazy, carrying a hint of indifferent coldness, as he said, "Who would dare comment on what belongs to me?"

The Young Marquis paused, hesitated briefly, then changed his approach. "Your Majesty, this is not in accordance with the rules."

The emperor chuckled softly. "Not in accordance with the rules?"

His gaze fell on Luo Qianyu's ankles as the emperor said gravely, "Your boots are not here with me. If you choose not to wear these, you may return barefoot. Let us see which is more 'in accordance with the rules.'"

Luo Qianyu's fingers hovered over the boot opening, his movements halting.

Better to just put them on—it wouldn't kill him... Besides, if he didn't wear them, the Dog Emperor might get angry.

The Young Marquis silently withdrew his hand. "...Thank you for Your Majesty's reward."

On his way out of the palace wearing the dragon boots, the Young Marquis suddenly paused, remembering that his new boots were still somewhere in the imperial study, vanished without a trace.

In the end, he never found an opportunity to retrieve them.

-

The palace examination results were to be announced four days later. Once the rankings were officially determined, the next event would be the grand proclamation ceremony.

The Young Marquis knew he was done for and held no hope for the results. In contrast, the entire Marquis's household was exceptionally tense, with even taboo words forbidden. Lady Sun spent her days burning incense and praying in the family shrine.

Luo Qianyu quietly hid the dragon boots, making sure Wen Yu didn't see them.

Partly, he didn't want Wen Yu to be proven right about his blistered feet. On the other hand, for some reason, he had a vague premonition—if Wen Yu found out he had taken off his shoes in front of a rival and returned wearing another man's boots... the protagonist shou would be angry.

As for why he would be angry... the youth couldn't quite explain it, but subconsciously, he kept it hidden from his Personal Guard.

The verdict came faster than expected.

On the day the results were posted, hundreds gathered outside the Ministry of Rites. As soon as the yellow list was displayed, onlookers surged forward like a tide, instantly clogging the long street.

"He made it! On the second-class yellow list!" The leading servant rushed over, followed by several others scrambling to catch up. "Young Master's name is on the list! The crowd was so dense we couldn't see the exact rank, but it's definitely our family name!"

Sun Shi's heart leapt, her handkerchief falling from her hand as she hurriedly lifted the carriage curtain.

The old Marquis sprang to his feet, leaning out of the carriage, and urgently said, "Quick! Go copy it from the list!"

"Yes!"

Upon hearing the news, Zhao Nian couldn't hold back her tears, embracing the Young Marquis tightly. "If the late Crown Prince's spirit could see Young Master's name on the golden list today, he would surely be immensely gratified..."

Luo Qianyu: "?"

...

He made it?

His unconventional, rebellious examination paper had actually landed him in the second class?

He was really going to become an official and toil like a beast of burden?

What happened to the promised life of a dissolute playboy?

*

*

As Su He had predicted, the next plot point arrived right on schedule: the legendary state of Zhao had sent envoys to visit Da Xi.

Ever since news arrived of the Zhao envoy's impending entry into the capital, the entire imperial city had been seething like a boiling pot. Red silk was laid along the long streets, adorned with colorful lanterns that swayed grandly in the wind, creating a truly festive atmosphere.

Merchants, sensing opportunity, had prepared early. Cosmetic shops displayed the popular spiral-shell eyebrow pigment from Zhao, while taverns served northern-style grape wine. Though not directly related to Zhao, it all added to the lively scene.

Da Xi's grand spectacle was truly unparalleled.

This time, Zhao's envoy mission was indeed extraordinary. Compared to the previous Western Desert delegation, which had merely presented tribute and even resorted to underhanded tactics—attempting to kidnap the Princess to force a marriage alliance and pressure Da Xi into reducing tribute—this visit was a genuine exchange between major powers, with both sides taking it seriously.

This inevitably brings up the background of this era—

Currently, the largest states were Da Xi and Zhao, with their respective vassal states being the Western Desert and the Northern Frontier. Of course, there was also the secluded Nine Abyss Alliance.

Since they were evenly matched, the competitive spirit was even stronger. Thus, in facing this foreign visit, Da Xi spared no effort in showcasing its most prosperous state.

"Young Lord Luo." A young eunuch hurried over to guide him. "The banquet is arranged in the western side of Zichen Hall. Your seat is behind several of the Hanlin Academy officials."

Luo Qianyu nodded.

Having achieved the second-rank *Jinshi* degree in the imperial examinations, even without an official appointment yet, he naturally attended such a state banquet thanks to his status as the heir to the Marquisate.

This time, he brought Wen Yu along.

In the original novel, Wen Yu did indeed attend this banquet. Although Wen Yu himself wasn't in the spotlight, as Su He had said, tonight was the stage for the male leads.

The emperor, the prime minister, the Young Marquis, the Imperial Guard Battalion Commander... along with a bunch of cannon-fodder characters who were just mentioned in passing for ogling the beauty—all the high-popularity love interests gathered in one place. If Lou Xian hadn't broken from the plot to join the military, he would certainly have attended tonight's banquet as well.

Open rivalries and hidden undercurrents swirled, all vying for the beauty's heart.

Readers, of course, adored this kind of male competition and love rivalry scene. So, as Su He had said, compared to the imperial examination, this was a turning point worthy of detailed description—utterly thrilling.

At dusk, the imperial city was lit up as bright as day.

In the distance, several lotus lanterns floated on the shallow lake, their candlelight reflecting on the water like a scattered galaxy. Officials in formal attire streamed into the banquet, forming a grand procession that crossed the Golden Water Bridge and entered the palace gates—a bustling and lively scene.

The banquet was held in the Zichen Hall.

Officials took their seats in order. Outside the hall, colorful banners fluttered, and drums and music resounded in unison. Below the imperial throne were the seats for the Zhao envoy delegation, their tables already laden with various delicacies. Opposite them sat the important ministers of Da Xi—the Grand Preceptor, the Grand Tutor, and the six ministers of the Board of Rites, all arranged in sequence.

Far behind them were the seats for young officials like Luo Qianyu.

The Young Marquis was seated on a cushion, glancing at the dishes on the table. Indeed, they were more lavish than during the Western Desert banquet, with even a greater variety of fruits.

"His Majesty has arrived!"

At the Chief Eunuch's announcement, the music ceased. The emperor appeared in ceremonial robes, and Luo Qianyu prostrated himself with the others.

The Da Xi court had prepared a grand feast to welcome the Zhao envoys. A red carpet stretched from the palace gates all the way to the front of the Taihe Hall, with imperial guards standing on both sides holding halberds—showing just how grand the occasion was.

The Zhao envoys had already arrived.

There were five in total, all dressed in foreign attire. Compared to the distinctly different attire of the Western Desert, Zhao's clothing style was more restrained, exuding the demeanor of a great nation.

The chief envoy from Zhao was named Tuoba Hong—a burly man with thick eyebrows and bright eyes, who didn't carry himself like a high-ranking diplomat. Luo Qianyu guessed that these envoys were more like specially chosen to compete with Da Xi.

However... the most eye-catching was the masked man behind him.

Among the envoys, only he concealed his face. Yet, his figure was tall and straight, his attire crisp and austere, and his aura was anything but ordinary. Unsurprisingly, he drew many curious glances.

"You have traveled far, enduring a long and arduous journey. It must have been exhausting," the Da Xi emperor said, seated on the dragon throne, exchanging routine pleasantries with the envoys in a leisurely tone. "Though the Golden Luan Hall lacks the vastness of the northern frontier, we have prepared fine delicacies. If there is any inadequacy in our hospitality, we hope you will be understanding."

...

Luo Qianyu's attention wasn't here, as the main event wasn't these formalities—they were just filler. Because soon, when the banquet was well underway, these Zhao envoys would propose a martial arts competition to foster friendship.

Sure enough, after three rounds of drinks, Tuoba Hong rose with a jade cup in hand and bowed deeply. "Long have we heard of Da Xi's warriors, mighty as dragons and tigers. Today, we are honored to be present and humbly request a friendly martial contest to entertain Your Majesty!"

The music in the hall abruptly stopped, and silence fell.

The emperor leaned back in his throne, the beads of his crown swaying slightly as his eyes held a faint, amused glint. "We heard your delegation consists of only five. Will that be enough for successive rounds?"

Tuoba Hong stroked his beard and laughed heartily, his jowls trembling with the motion. "Your Majesty need not worry. Our Zhao men are each worth ten. Even in a battle of attrition, we will ensure it is thoroughly enjoyable!"

The martial arena was set up temporarily on the eastern side outside the hall. The imperial guards had already cleared an open space, surrounded by raised platforms so that civil and military officials could see clearly even without leaving their seats.

Luo Qianyu's seat, originally far from the emperor, now became the prime viewing spot as the focus shifted.

Soon, Zhao sent out a burly man first, wielding dual axes with a fierce aura. Da Xi put forward an imperial guard commander. The two exchanged over thirty moves before the commander gradually fell behind. Finally, struck by an axe, he staggered back several steps, tumbled off his horse, and had to admit defeat.

"Haha, you honor us by conceding!" The burly man laughed, clasping his fists. Though he spoke of concession, his eyes were full of disdain.

With an unfavorable start, the atmosphere at the sidelines grew tense. It was then that Guan Mingyang suddenly stood up. "I request to fight!"

It was the Young Prince.

Guan Mingyang's most skilled weapon was the spear.

It was said the Young Prince wielded a silver spear with divine skill. The young man leaped into the arena without unnecessary fanfare and engaged the burly man in combat, each strike more aggressive than the last, sparks flying as they clashed.

Luo Qianyu watched, stunned.

In their usual sparring sessions, Guan Mingyang hardly ever used this weapon. Now, it seemed he wielded it with effortless mastery, as if it were his innate weapon. The young man's eyes brightened slightly—he must spar with him later, asking him to use the spear. It would likely be even better.

Soon, the burly man was defeated. In the end, with a flick of the spear's tip, he rolled off his horse in self-defense.

Then, Guan Mingyang sneered coldly, mimicking the burly man's earlier tone, and scoffed, "Boring."

With that, he pointed his spear directly at the masked man. "Send your truly skilled one."

This was an open, direct challenge.

"..." Tuoba Hong turned his head, exchanged glances with the other envoys, paused briefly, and gave a slight nod.

The masked man slowly entered the arena. Before mounting his horse, he carried no weapon. Once mounted, he casually picked up a sword. The man wore a pair of black gloves. As the two faced each other, Guan Mingyang wasted no time, taking the initiative. His silver spear shot out like a dragon emerging from the sea, thrusting straight for his opponent's face.

"Excellent!"

"Truly a warrior of our Da Xi Dynasty!"

"What a swift spear!" Cheers erupted from nearby.

"..."

Luo Qianyu remained silent, but a vague, inexplicable premonition stirred within him.

Sure enough, the masked man's figure flashed, and he and his horse seemed to shift to Guan Mingyang's rear in an instant. Guan Mingyang reacted swiftly, sweeping back with his spear, but the other caught the shaft with one hand.

Guan Mingyang's spear technique was known for its speed and agility, but now he was forced to retreat repeatedly. Every strike from the masked man carried immense force, and when their blades collided, blinding sparks flew. One strike seemed aimed straight for the crown of his head.

Guan Mingyang's pupils contracted in alarm as he hastily blocked, the impact instantly splitting the skin between his thumb and forefinger. Blood trickled down the hilt.

Staggering back, Guan Mingyang felt a metallic taste in his throat. The next moment, he spat out a mouthful of blood and crashed heavily to the ground.

The entire hall erupted in uproar.

The masked man retreated to the Zhao side.

Imperial physicians rushed forward to attend to him. Luo Qianyu looked up, gazing at the masked man's retreating figure, unable to resist falling into deep thought.

Was there such a person in the original novel?

No, the book was clear. Even though Zhao sent envoys this time, there were no unfamiliar faces shining on the martial arena—only rival love interests who had appeared to some extent before.

If there truly were someone with such formidable martial skills, exceptional riding and archery, and wearing a mask, he would have remembered them no matter what.

"Our men do not know their own strength. We hope Your Majesty will forgive them. I apologize on their behalf," Tuoba Hong said, clasping his fists. Though his words were apologetic, he couldn't hide his delight, grinning widely. "Shall we next compete in archery? Our Zhao men have ridden horses since childhood, and drawing bows to shoot eagles is but a common skill. We would like to learn from your esteemed country. Is anyone willing to accept the challenge...?"

The emperor's expression remained unreadable as he spoke in a low voice, "It's fine. Prepare the range."

The archery range was arranged on the western side of the military parade ground, with ten targets lined up in a row, the farthest being a full hundred paces away. Both Da Xi and Zhao each staked three treasures, one of which served as the top prize and was placed on a table at the center of the field.

Zhao had already claimed one treasure in the previous martial contest, leaving the Da Xi Dynasty with only two remaining.

Luo Qianyu's gaze swept idly over the vermilion-lacquered tray before pausing abruptly.

His eyes narrowed, and he nearly rose to his feet.

His eyes slowly settled on one of the jade pendants.

Once they landed, he found himself unable to look away.

This jade pendant...

Not only was the jade of exceptional quality and color, shimmering from afar like the pure glow of moonlight, but its carving was so exquisite it seemed supernaturally crafted—a treasure truly unmatched in the world. Anyone who laid eyes on this pendant would find it hard to forget.

The Young Marquis held his breath slightly.

The more he looked, the more it resembled...

The one Wen Yu had pawned at the medicine shop back then?

If it truly was, then it must be the Wen family's heirloom jade pendant.

In the original story, Wen Yu had always kept it on him, treating it as his most important possession, until a few months ago when his mother fell critically ill. Wen Yu had no choice but to pawn it to obtain the Thousand-Year Snow Lotus. Luo Qianyu had witnessed this himself, yet he never expected it to appear here now.

Luo Qianyu instinctively glanced toward Wen Yu.

Wen Yu remained silent, his expression unchanged, and it was unclear whether he had noticed.

Had he been mistaken?

The match commenced, with Zhao once again sending out the burly man wielding twin axes. He drew his longbow to its full extent, firing three arrows that all struck the bullseye, eliciting gasps of awe.

The general sent by Da Xi also hit the bullseye, but his arrows were not as tightly clustered as his opponent's, and so he lost.

For the second round, Zhao replaced him with a tall, slender man. The chief envoy stroked his beard and boasted that this thin man could hit a willow leaf fluttering in the wind from a hundred paces away.

Once again, Da Xi lost.

"One more loss, and all the top prizes will belong to our great Zhao!" the burly man laughed heartily as he watched the match.

Tuoba Hong merely raised an eyebrow slightly, motioning for him to be quiet.

And the only top prize left unwon was that jade pendant!

The entire arena fell silent.

With two masters winning consecutively, for a moment, no one else stepped forward to accept the challenge.

The tall, slender envoy reined in his horse, circling the field twice as he glanced left and right, then chuckled softly, "Is no one brave enough? If you admit defeat now, then this last remaining top prize will belong to my Zhao..."

At that moment, a voice suddenly rang out.

"This subject requests to compete."

...

Everyone was taken aback, their gazes following the voice to the young man who had risen to his feet.

The emperor lowered his gaze, a faint smile playing on his lips as he asked, "Minister Luo is skilled in archery?"

"I have some modest skill. This subject requests a chance to try," Luo Qianyu clasped his hands in salute, his eyelashes lightly lowered.

Amidst the murmurs of the officials, the emperor rested his hand on the dragon throne's armrest and said, "Granted."

The young man removed his brocade mink cloak and tossed it to an attendant, revealing the vibrant red, form-fitting robe beneath.

Clad in brilliant attire and mounted on a spirited steed, he stood poised in the center of the field, his slender waist outlined like a blaze of flame. As the bowstring tightened, Luo Qianyu's breath seemed to freeze along with it.

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, a challenge blurted out in the heat of the moment.

Was this the most unwise decision he had made tonight?

Why was he doing this for Wen Yu...

Shaking off the doubts and confusion in his mind, his fingers drew the string with perfect precision. The fletching brushed lightly against his cheek, stirring a faint breeze. The surrounding clamor seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears—steady, powerful, like the beat of war drums.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze fixed on the bullseye a hundred paces away.

In a fleeting moment, memories surged forth.

—"When drawing the bow, keep your shoulder down and your arm steady."

Wen Yu's voice seemed to echo in his ear, low and clear.

That man's hand had once covered his, calloused fingers applying gentle pressure as he adjusted his posture.

—"Don't rush to release the arrow. First, feel the wind."

He remembered the chill of the morning breeze, the cold seeping in, while Wen Yu stood behind him, his warm, steady breath brushing against his ear.

—"Young Master, your heart must be calm."

The final words were:

—"When the wind stills, that is the moment to release."

The corner of Luo Qianyu's lips lifted almost imperceptibly.

At that moment, the wind suddenly ceased, and all fell silent.

He released his fingers.

"Whoosh—!"

The arrow shot through the air like a meteor streaking across the sky, carrying a sharp, keening whistle as it pierced straight through the bullseye!

The fletching trembled, and the shaft hummed with residual energy.

His horse reared and neighed as Luo Qianyu swiftly drew another arrow, his movements fluid and seamless. The first arrow cut through the wind, and as everyone watched, they saw that the Young Marquis had split the arrow shot by the Zhao envoy right down the middle!

"Ah!"

"What an incredible shot!!!"

The entire arena erupted in astonished cheers.

The second arrow pierced clean through the suspended bronze ring, and the instant the bell fell, the third arrow was already released from the bowstring.

Everyone saw a streak through the air, and with a thud, it pinned the fluttering red silk to the willow trunk.

Wen Yu stared fixedly at the figure in the arena, as if his gaze had never strayed.

The snow-white steed let out a long neigh, prancing back and forth in the field. Luo Qianyu drew his bow and nocked an arrow, his movements smooth as flowing water, effortlessly firing three arrows in succession from horseback.

"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—"

Three feathered arrows sliced through the air, all striking true a hundred paces away, clustered in a near-perfect triangle.

The entire arena fell silent, then erupted into thunderous applause!

Lin Jingyan watched the figure from afar. A servant moved soundlessly behind the man, bowing his head as he respectfully presented a tray of wine to the Seventeenth Imperial Uncle. Prince Yanhuai shook his head slightly, glancing toward the training ground with an inscrutable expression.

A Company Commander scurried over to the side of the Imperial Guard Battalion Commander. He leaned in close, whispering something into the commander’s ear. The Battalion Commander raised a hand, gesturing for him to be quiet.

Then, the Company Commander saw the commander's face darken as he muttered under his breath, "He did it for that jade pendant."

Meanwhile, the envoy from Zhao could no longer contain himself and replaced the previous two contestants.

The masked man was silent for a beat before mounting his horse. His archery was just as skilled, with all three arrows hitting the target, though the last one was slightly off-center.

Darkness edged the targets, while willow branches swayed in the wind. Servants lit the lanterns along the field.

"Da Xi wins!" the master of ceremonies announced loudly.

The young man rode back, his skin as fair as snow, his crimson robes billowed, and his high-tied black hair flying in the wind. Before the eyes of the crowd, he went straight to the prize platform, where a servant held out a jade case. He took the jade pendant from it.

Holding it in his hand, the cold jade felt slightly cool, its chill spreading from his palm—smooth, pure, and icy.

In the next moment, the Young Marquis raised his hand and flung the pendant, which arced through the air before falling.

The direction he threw it was right toward his own Personal Guard.

Wen Yu instinctively caught it, and upon seeing what was in his hand, he stared, stunned.

Luo Qianyu raised an eyebrow nonchalantly, turned his horse around, his robes billowing in the wind, a pair of peach-blossom eyes filled with amusement.

On the high platform, the emperor lowered his gaze, tightened his fingers, and drained his cup of wine in one gulp.

When he looked up again, his eyes had regained their calm.

Only the knuckles gripping the wine cup remained slightly tense.

*

Just as Luo Qianyu turned to return to his seat, a low voice rang out from behind, "Young Marquis, please stay."

The voice was like gravel grinding against stone, and the entire assembly fell silent.

Luo Qianyu turned around. The masked man had already returned to the seats of the Zhao envoy delegation and took something from a black-silk-draped cage.

"Whimper..."

A young beast’s whimper pierced the silence.

Luo Qianyu stiffened.

—It was a small wolf, its entire body silver-white.

The size of two fists, it was cupped in the masked man’s palm, its four tiny paws tucked beneath its body.

"This is an Arctic Wolf from the northern tundra," Tuoba Hong stood up and explained. "Born among towering glaciers, it drinks snowmelt and feeds on cold-water fish. They bear a litter only once every ten years, and fewer than one in ten cubs survive three winters. It is considered the rarest treasure of the snowy regions."

The masked man had already walked up to Luo Qianyu. Up close, Luo Qianyu realized he was exceptionally tall—he had to tilt his head slightly to meet his gaze.

"For me?" the Young Marquis asked, puzzled. "Why a wolf?"

"You’ve earned it."

The wolf cub was offered to him.

Luo Qianyu felt bewildered but instinctively took it. The ball of snowy fur nestled in his arms without struggling, its cool, damp nose nuzzling against his wrist as it let out a soft whimper.

Only then did he get a clear look at the cub. Its white fur was streaked with strands of silver, and the tufts of fur on its ear tips looked like snowflakes. Its pale blue eyes were moist, half-open and drowsy, as if it were very sleepy.

"Thank you for your kind gesture, but I can’t keep a pet," Luo Qianyu frowned, raising his hand to return it. As his fingertips brushed against the masked man’s palm, he suddenly felt a slight resistance.

Near the edge of the other’s glove, there seemed to be uneven scars.

At that moment, the wolf cub opened its eyes and gently bit his sleeve. Its tiny teeth caught on the brocade, and it lifted its four short legs, trying to climb up his robe.

Luo Qianyu fumbled to catch it, but the snowy ball had already scrambled onto his shoulder, its furry tail brushing against his neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

A few suppressed chuckles came from the banquet tables. Luo Qianyu’s ears flushed with warmth as he silently scooped the little creature back into his arms. He couldn’t let a wolf cub throw him off balance.

Why a wolf?

Luo Qianyu suddenly recalled a passage from a book.

During the palace coup three years ago, when rebel forces stormed in, the emperor—then the thirteenth prince—had hidden in a wolf den to survive. Later, the story spread among the people with mythical embellishments, but even today, some still mockingly referred to the current emperor as the "Wolf King."

Was offering this as the top prize meant to imply an insult?

"Accept it," the emperor’s voice came from above, devoid of emotion. "Since it is a gesture of goodwill from Zhao, there is no need to decline."

Luo Qianyu was slightly taken aback. After a moment of hesitation, he bowed his head and accepted.

As the wolf cub nestled in his arms, he suddenly felt a gaze so intense it seemed tangible. Looking up, he met the masked man’s eyes.

"Excellent!" Tuoba Hong chimed in enthusiastically. "The most remarkable thing about the Arctic Wolf is that it recognizes only one master in its lifetime."

"From now on, even through mountains of blades and seas of fire, it will follow only the Young Marquis."

The banquet regained its lively atmosphere.

Luo Qianyu returned to his seat with the wolf cub in his arms. A young nobleman beside him leaned over and whispered, "I’ve heard that the Arctic Wolf is a rare creature from the northern regions. When fully grown, it can be as large as a calf and is capable of tearing tigers and leopards apart."

Unexpectedly, the Young Marquis’s eyes lit up, and he immediately offered the troublesome gift, his gaze burning with enthusiasm. "Do you like it? How about I give you this prize?"

"No, no, that won’t do, that won’t do..." The young nobleman waved his hands repeatedly, coughing awkwardly. "I’m not prepared to raise a wolf."

The wolf cub suddenly whimpered in his arms. Luo Qianyu felt somewhat flustered, gently scratching its ears with his fingertips. It responded by wrapping all four paws around his finger, a sight that drew frequent glances from several nearby ladies, their hearts seemingly melted by the adorable scene.

"Young Marquis," someone beside him suddenly lowered his voice. "Look, the Zhao envoys have left their seats."

Luo Qianyu turned and indeed saw several people behind Tuoba Hong rising to excuse themselves. The masked man walked at the rear, exiting the hall.

The banquet was halfway through, with three rounds of wine already served. The hall was filled with clinking cups and lively music and dance. Luo Qianyu had little interest in the lengthy court banquet to begin with, and with the wolf cub sleeping soundly in his arms, the young man found sitting idly even more tedious.

He then softly called Wen Yu over and whispered, "If my father asks, just say I went to take a leak."

Wen Yu asked, "But that's not really where you're going, is it?"

Luo Qianyu: "..."

The young man was silent for a beat before muttering a correction, "...I am going to take a leak."

Taking advantage of the moment when everyone was toasting and drinking, he quietly stood up, scooped the cub up, and slipped out of the main hall.

Speaking of which, as his personal guard, wasn't Wen Yu keeping tabs on him a bit too much?

Even if he were to get married, he probably wouldn't be given the third degree like this.

The night breeze was cool, and the moonlight washed over everything. Luo Qianyu nimbly leaped onto an ancient tree in the rear palace garden and found a sturdy branch to sit on.

From this angle, he could just make out the brilliant lights inside the hall. The faint strains of silk, bamboo, and string instruments wafted out. Looking from afar, it was as if seen through a gauzy veil.

The little wolf cub turned over in his arms, its small paws unconsciously pawing at his chest a couple of times before dozing off again.

Luo Qianyu looked down at it and couldn't resist reaching out to touch its nose.

This little wolf wasn't in the original book.

It was actually something outside the plot.

He'd snuck out partly to keep an eye on the whereabouts of that masked man, since the last kidnapping in the Western Desert was still fresh in his mind. But after scanning the area, the man was still nowhere to be seen among the Zhao delegation's seats. Luo Qianyu frowned slightly, wondering where he'd got to, when suddenly the beat of Northern-style drum music sounded from within the hall.

He looked up and saw a troupe of Zhao dancers filing gracefully into the room. They wore gossamer-thin dresses, golden bells at their waists jingling in time with their steps. Their toes touched the ground light as a feather, and their skirts fluttered as they spun, like blooming flowers—absolutely gorgeous.

The Young Marquis watched, completely mesmerized, even forgetting how much time had passed. He thought to himself, "People in ancient times had it so good. Now that's what I call imperial style, much better than the dances of the Western Desert."

Just as he was admiring the scene, the wolf cub in his arms suddenly stirred, probably woken by the music from the hall. Luo Qianyu didn't notice, still gazing at the graceful dancers inside, absentmindedly patting the little wolf's back fur.

The drowsy cub roused itself. Seeing that the youth was ignoring it, it stretched out a paw, trying to stand up.

Only then did Luo Qianyu snap back to attention, but before he could grab hold of it, the little wolf had already flipped over and slipped right out of his arms!

"Ah—!"

Luo Qianyu yelped and grabbed for it, but lost his own balance in the process, tumbling right off the tree branch!

A thought flashed through his mind: *It's over. The branch isn't low. I'm probably going to land flat on my face.*

However, the expected pain did not come.

He fell into someone's arms.

That person's arms caught him solidly, the force just enough to keep him from falling but held him fast. Luo Qianyu instinctively looked up and found himself looking at a masked face.

—It was that masked man from Zhao!

Their gazes met. The man seemed to be staring at him without blinking, not saying a word.

Having fallen into the man's arms so suddenly, Luo Qianyu momentarily forgot to struggle. The moonlight reflected off the mask, casting a cold, gleaming light. He tilted his face up, his breath catching slightly, his gaze involuntarily drawn into those deep, unfathomable eyes.

Dark as ink, yet seeming to burn with a hidden fire, making his heart pound for no reason.

...A good opportunity.

As if guided by a ghost, the youth raised his hand to push aside the mask.

The moment his fingertips just touched the cold metal edge, his wrist was caught in a firm grip. The other's hold wasn't heavy, but he couldn't move another inch. Yet, in that split second, the mask had already been lifted half an inch. The lingering glow of the palace lanterns slanted in, illuminating a crimson mark on the center of the forehead.

Like a drop of blood about to fall, eerie yet strikingly beautiful.

Luo Qianyu's pupils contracted sharply.

That forehead mark seemed familiar.

Something surged up from the depths of his memory, but was interrupted by the other's suddenly tightening fingers. The masked man abruptly turned his head, and the mask settled back over his face, revealing nothing more.

But the glimpse of that mark from moments ago was already branded in Luo Qianyu's eyes, impossible to shake off.

"Are you alright?" The voice was still hoarse.

Only then did Luo Qianyu realize with a start that he was still being held in the other's arms. In their overlapping positions, he could feel the firm touch of the other's arm.

The youth's heart skipped a beat. He instinctively tried to break free, but the other didn't budge an inch.

"Mhm." He opened his mouth, momentarily at a loss for words. "Thank you for your rescue, Your Excellency. You... please let go first."

The masked man remained silent for a moment before finally speaking, his voice low and raspy: "Young Marquis, be careful."

He jumped down from that person's arms. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he hastily broke free, staggering back half a step. The night breeze brushed past his burning ears. He stared at the man's properly readjusted mask; the phoenix-like mark on the forehead seemed to still be floating before his eyes.

It seemed somewhat different from Wen Yu's, but there were similarities.

Strange. Could it be some kind of mark of the Zhao royal family? Or perhaps some secret technique's brand?

After steadying himself, he quickly straightened his robes and said with feigned composure, "Thank you."

Only then did the youth look up at the other. "Your Excellency isn't drinking at the banquet. What brings you out here?"

The masked man didn't answer immediately, merely gazing at him quietly, his eyes deep and inscrutable.

After a long while, he slowly said, "It was too stifling inside the hall."

Luo Qianyu raised an eyebrow. "What a coincidence. Me too."

For a moment, neither spoke.

Only the night wind rustled through the treetops.

*This is too awkward.*

The singing and dancing continued inside the hall. The music drifted from afar, making the silence here even more pronounced. Luo Qianyu had intended to probe a bit more, but the masked man suddenly turned, seemingly preparing to leave.

"Wait." Luo Qianyu, as if guided by a ghost, called out to stop him.

The masked man paused in his steps, turning his head to look at him.

Luo Qianyu pressed his lips together and finally asked, "Why did you give me the Arctic Wolf?"

The masked man remained silent for a long time before saying in a low voice, "It was always meant to be yours."

Luo Qianyu was taken aback, feeling there was a deeper meaning hidden in those words. *Or was he overthinking again?* Before he could ponder the meaning of that sentence further, the other had already turned and left. His figure soon vanished into the darkness, disappearing from sight.

The wolf cub poked its head out from his embrace. Luo Qianyu looked down at it and murmured, "You think so too, right?... What a strange man."

*

The night was deep, with only a single warm lamp still lit in the Brocade Scale Courtyard, casting a hazy, soft glow through the window lattice.

Luo Qianyu was already fast asleep, the brocade quilt half-covering him, his dark hair spilling across the pillow, his breathing long and steady.

He had always been a heavy sleeper, and tonight, weary from the banquet, he had fallen asleep early.

The young wolf curled up beside his pillow, its silver-white fur rising and falling slightly with his breath, its ears twitching occasionally as if startled by a sound from the yard.

Wen Yu stood silently by the bedside, the jade pendant at his waist hanging down, gleaming softly in the candlelight.

His fingertips lightly brushed over the jade surface, then clenched, without a sound.

This jade pendant should have remained forever in the medicine shop, or in the palace.

He lowered his gaze to the sleeping Young Marquis. The youth's features were relaxed, his long lashes casting faint shadows, his lips still tinged with a faint flush from the wine.

Wen Yu's gaze sharpened, his fingers unconsciously curling slightly, as if wanting to touch, yet he checked the impulse and drew back.

The night breeze brushed past the window lattice, making the candle flame flicker.

After a long while, he slowly leaned down and brushed an extremely light kiss on Luo Qianyu's cheek.

The moment his lips touched the skin, Wen Yu's breath hitched, the sound of his heartbeat clearly audible in the silent night.

The kiss was feather-light, like a dragonfly skimming the water.

Just as he was about to straighten up, the faintest of sounds suddenly came from outside the courtyard—

As if someone had entered the courtyard, witnessed this scene, froze, and then retreated.

Wen Yu glanced sideways, his hand instantly flying to the hilt of his sword, turning his head to look out the window.

It was Zhao Nian.

That person stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the window with disbelief, meeting Wen Yu's eyes.

The very air seemed to freeze in that moment.