Back in Hua, Shen Han received news of Lian Zhi's marriage. The moment he heard it, a sharp ache bloomed in his chest. But he knew there was nothing he could do. He had no right to protest. He himself had already married Lian Yue.
Still, he made a promise to himself that it was temporary, that this was simply a bitter path they both had to walk before reaching their happiness. And one day, he would bring Lian Zhi back to his side.
Days passed after the wedding, yet the warmth between husband and wife never came.
Lian Yue played her role flawlessly before the court, smiling like the happiest bride under heaven. She clung to Shen Han's arm during morning greetings, called him "dear husband" at banquets, and praised him whenever the Emperor was near.
But once the palace gates closed and the servants withdrew, her smile always faded.
"Why are you never here?" she asked one evening as she sat before her mirror, combing her hair. "Every night, I wake to an empty bed."
Shen Han didn't look up from his documents. "The Ministry of War is busy. I hardly have time to sleep."
"You have time to walk to Consort Ling's residence."
Lian Yue had received reports from her maid. Shen Han was often seen visiting Consort Ling, seemingly to ensure her health, to care for her in place of Lian Zhi. But he knew the truth of it. Consort Ling was the only remaining thread that tied him to Lian Zhi, the last familiar shape that made the distance bearable.
"You have people watching me?"
"I have the right to watch my own husband."
She smiled faintly at her own reflection, as if the claim pleased her.
"You never look at me, Shen Han. Not even once."
He closed the papers and stood up. "Because all I see is the Crown Princess. Not the woman I love."
The curve on her mouth thinned. "Then maybe you should start learning who I am now." She turned her head towards him. "I'm your wife."
He turned to leave. "I'm not interested."
"Shen Han." Her voice was quieter now. Colder.
He turned just as she reached into a small chest by her dressing table and pulled out a folded parchment.
"I didn't want to use this, but you leave me no choice."
He frowned. "What is that?"
"A letter," she replied, unfolding it slowly. "Written by your father. To the Chancellor of Tughril."
Shen Han's chest tightened. "You're lying."
"Am I?" Her tone was almost playful. "I suppose you'd like to see it."
She held it out. The handwriting struck him immediately. He recognized his father's strong, bold strokes. The words were sharp and treasonous, offering secret support to a foreign power in exchange for land and influence.
Shen Han's fingers trembled. "This… cannot be real."
"You know it is. That is your father's hand. The same hand that wrote every commendation you ever received."
Shen Han's jaw tightened. "You're planning to threaten me with this?"
"I'm planning to keep my husband where he belongs." She didn't blink when she said it. "By my side. You keep turning away, clinging to memories of her, that woman who is long gone. I'm tired of competing with a ghost."
Shen Han's voice darkened. "If the Emperor ever saw this letter, both you and my family would be ruined."
"Then you must make sure I never have a reason to show him."
Lian Yue folded the letter neatly and tucked it into her sleeve. "I'm not your enemy, Shen Han. I can make you powerful. Loved. But if you keep treating me like I'm invisible, I will become your worst nightmare."
Rage burned in his chest. "You would use my father to control me?"
"You already belong to me." The words were spoken softly, almost tenderly. "This just ensures you never forget it."
He stepped closer. "Do you even love me?"
Her expression faltered for the first time. "Love? I don't know. But I want you. Isn't that enough?"
He shook his head. "You confuse wanting someone with loving them."
She looked up sharply. "Maybe not for you. But for me, it's the only way to keep what's mine."
Shen Han turned away. "You won't get away with this."
"Then I'll drag you down with me."
Her words lingered long after he left.
That night, he couldn't sleep. He sat in the study, the cursed letter burning in his thoughts. He wanted to believe it was forged, but he knew his father's handwriting as well as his own.
At dawn, he found himself in the training yard, sword in hand. He cut through the air with harsh, relentless strikes. Each swing carried frustration, betrayal, and helplessness. When he finally stopped, breathing unevenly, he turned and saw Lian Yue standing at the edge of the courtyard, watching him.
"You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep."
"Because of me?"
He didn't answer.
She stepped closer. "You look better like this. Angry. Alive."
He glared. "If you came to mock me, you've succeeded."
"No. I came to remind you that what I hold can either destroy you or protect you. The choice is yours."
Shen Han didn't say a word.
"Be the husband I need. Play your part. The Emperor already favors you. You could rise higher than any general before you."
She stepped close enough that he could feel her breath on his throat.
"But if you continue to defy me… everything you care about will burn."
Then she smiled as if she hadn't just promised his ruin.
Shen Han's hand tightened around the sword hilt. For a brief moment, he imagined cutting down the smile on her face.
Instead, he let the sword drop.
"Fine," he surrendered. "You win."
"Good. Then tonight, we will share a room, as husband and wife should."
He didn't respond.
That night, for the first time since their wedding, he entered her chamber willingly. Lian Yue waited, her expression filled with victory.
He sat beside her. She lifted a hand to touch his cheek.
"See?" she whispered. "It's not so hard to be mine."
Shen Han closed his eyes and, for a fleeting moment, pretended she was someone else.
As the candle burned down, he lay awake beside her, staring at the ceiling.
He had chosen survival.
But lying there, listening to her steady breathing, all he felt was a slow, creeping sense of dying.