"The Ye family?" The Emperor raised a brow, a trace of amusement flickering in his eyes. "I heard your hound nearly bit Miss Ye, only to be knocked unconscious by her staff. It seems your acquaintance was quite... spirited."
Ye Jiao dared not meet the Emperor's gaze. Instinctively, she edged away from Li Long as she knelt, a subtle motion the Emperor caught at once. His voice turned solemn: "Miss Ye, my son earnestly seeks your hand in marriage. What, do you not consent?"
Li Long, the only prince conferred with a royal title, was favored deeply by the Emperor. To affront the dignity of the imperial household was to provoke the dragon's ire. And now, Li Long had thrust not only Ye Jiao, but also the decade-long loyalty of the Duke of Anguo's household into the crucible.
Ye Jiao drew a sharp breath. What should she do? If she refused—what excuse could she give? Her elder sister had warned her again and again to keep her head down and avoid trouble. Yet trouble had found her.
Her eyes darted about. Could she faint on command? Froth at the mouth, perhaps? Feign madness?
Amid her panic, a familiar voice broke through the tension—it was that man.
"Perhaps His Highness Prince Su has proposed a touch too hastily, startling the lady," he said smoothly.
The atmosphere in the hall eased slightly.
"Oh?" The Emperor chuckled. "Does Miss Ye harbor affections elsewhere?"
"Yes!" A torch lit within Ye Jiao's heart. She nodded quickly. "This humble girl's heart is already spoken for—I cannot possibly accept Prince Su's proposal."
There could be no better excuse. It preserved the royal dignity while allowing her to retreat intact.
Li Long's expression twisted with humiliation, but before so many witnesses, he could not force a woman to marry him.
Yet the Emperor was not so easily appeased. He slapped his thigh with the air of a wealthy gentleman relishing a dramatic tale and asked with mock curiosity, "And who is this fortunate suitor for whom you'd forsake a prince?"
Ye Jiao had only recently broken her engagement with Fu Mingzhu—a scandal known throughout the capital. Where could she possibly conjure a fake lover on such short notice?
No—there was someone.
Ye Jiao gathered her skirt and stepped forward. She turned to the Emperor and gestured toward the man, saying, "It is him. He is… his name is…"
She froze.
They'd met countless times, yet she had never asked his name.
The Princess Royal chuckled softly. Even the Emperor wore a knowing smile.
His stern brows softened as he said kindly, "No need for introductions. I know him."
"You do, Your Majesty?" Ye Jiao glanced in surprise at the man, whispering teasingly, "Well, who would've guessed? You've hidden your talents well."
His gaze shone with a brilliance like sun and moonlight, solemn and unwavering. He stepped past Ye Jiao, knelt with reverence, and declared:
"Father."
Ye Jiao's jaw dropped.
Did he say… father?
The Emperor chuckled like a man enjoying a fine play. "So, in the end, Miss Ye still chose one of my sons. I always suspected something was between you two. But tell me, Li Ce—why haven't you revealed your identity? Do you find the title of Ninth Prince unworthy?"
Li Ce?
Ye Jiao's mind buzzed. She finally understood why he had extorted her on the imperial avenue, why he could summon the magistrate with a knock, and why he was present today, seated among princes.
He was the Emperor's son—the one who guarded the imperial tomb, the ghost prince known only by name, never seen, believed half-dead. The very name she'd once borrowed to fool a crowd.
She didn't catch what he said in response, but the Emperor burst into hearty laughter.
"Seems you know your body is frail, so you sought a robust wife to bear strong grandsons for me!" he teased. "To knock a hound unconscious with a stick—that's surely the mightiest maiden in the capital."
Still kneeling, Li Ce coughed softly. "I humbly ask for Your Majesty's blessing."
The eunuch at the Emperor's side whispered something. The Emperor, clearly reluctant, stood with a sigh. "Handle your own affairs with the Duke of Anguo's family. As for you, Li Long—come, escort me back to the palace. As the elder brother, you must support your sibling."
Li Long rose and took the Emperor's arm.
Ye Jiao had a strange feeling this moment marked the first time the Emperor truly saw Li Long as his son—not just a subject. As if something in his heart had eased. The Emperor now resembled a schoolboy dismissed from lessons, called back to recite verses, reluctant to part.
Suddenly, he paused and his expression darkened. His gaze landed outside the hall.
"Li Jing! Show yourself!"
From behind a waist-high camphor tree, Li Jing emerged, shoulders hunched.
"Father…" he murmured, kneeling nervously, eyes lowered.
"What are you doing here?" the Emperor demanded coldly. "I entrusted your aunt with organizing this Qiqiao banquet, not for you to come selecting concubines!"
Rumor had it that Li Jing was enamored with beauty, frequently pestering the Empress about which noble daughters he might take as concubines. Of ten requests, eight were refused. After years of trying, he had but one wife and two concubines—a laughingstock in the capital.
Ambitious petty officials even fawned upon him in hopes of connection.
The Emperor, who loathed overly familiar ties between officials and royals, often rebuked him for this.
Li Jing stammered, "I… I only—"
The Emperor strode toward him, fury burning, poised to deliver a kick—
But Li Ce interjected: "Forgive me, Father. It was I who begged my brother to accompany me. I am still unwell."
The Emperor paused, raising a brow. "He beat you not long ago, and now he's your guardian angel?"
Li Ce bowed deeply. "Quarrels are common among brothers, but blood is thicker than water. My elder brother has always shown me care, and this time he has tended to me with great devotion. I am much recovered."
The Emperor glanced sideways at Li Jing, skepticism in his eyes, but at last relented.
"You are brotherly and kind," he nodded. "It pleases me greatly."
The crowd bowed in farewell as the Emperor departed.
Li Jing stood, casting a side glance at Li Ce. "I didn't need your help," he muttered. "Meddling busybody."
Li Ce gave him a faint smile and returned to Ye Jiao's side.
"Brotherhood?" Li Jing scoffed, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves. "More like a man blinded by beauty and forgetting his bonds."
Ye Jiao was just slipping away when her wrist was caught again.
It was Li Ce. His fingers were cool, his grip firm yet gentle.
"What are you doing?" Ye Jiao whispered, cheeks flushing.
He smiled, lips brushing her ear. "Miss Ye, if we're going to act, we must commit to the role. Otherwise, this crime of deceiving the Emperor—I'm afraid I cannot share it with you."
Her resistance melted. Her hand relaxed—and so did her heart, as though bound by a silken thread, knotted tightly by unseen hands.
Ye Jiao followed Li Ce out, half in a daze.
He led her past envious stares, hateful glares, past a speechless Li Jing, past fluttering lanterns and swaying banners, to a quieter corner bathed in shadow.
Only then did he release her hand and point skyward.
"Look. Altair and Vega."
Ye Jiao followed his gaze.
The Milky Way stretched deep and vast, and two stars gleamed across it—silent, radiant lovers, gazing longingly through the night.
"Would you like to make a wish?" Li Ce asked.
It was tradition to make wishes on the Qiqiao Festival—most of them for true love.
Ye Jiao stared skyward. After a long silence, she sighed, "No. They never come true."
She had wished, time and again, for her father's return.
Ten years. Not once had the stars listened.
She had once been so full of life…