The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

Not far from the Seventh Pavilion, a bronze cauldron was erected in the center of a courtyard. The cauldron was engraved with ferocious Taotie patterns and was currently spewing out scorching flames.

Beside the cauldron, several guards in black stood with their heads bowed, barely breathing.

Bei Chenji stood three steps away.

His hands were completely covered by dark rhinoceros-hide gloves, his fingertips gleaming coldly in the firelight.

He stared at the pile of silk and satin in the cauldron that gradually curled up, turned black, and finally turned into ashes, his eyes as cold and deep as a frozen pool on a winter night.

"Cousin, is it really that serious?"

Hua Rongshi leaned against a pillar in the corridor, tapping her gilded folding fan idly, her peach blossom eyes filled with incomprehension.

"It was burned so cleanly... That whole chest of clothes was made of the finest Yunzhou ice silkworm silk, priceless indeed."

He paused, a hint of mockery in his voice:

"Besides—no one else has touched it."

"Tangxi Snow Touched".

When Bei Chenji spoke, his voice was calm and undisturbed, but the disgust conveyed between the lines was so strong that it was impossible to dispel.

"If it weren't for Xuan Yin protecting him..."

"Stop! Stop! Cousin, your thoughts are dangerous. Stop your evil ideas immediately!"

Hua Rongshi knew very well how ruthless her cousin was. Back then, he personally killed the entire family of the deputy general who betrayed the previous Beichen King, leaving no one alive.

"What, what do you intend to do to my little snowflake? Cousin—you don't mean to make me a widower at such a young age, do you?"

"What widower?" Bei Chenji frowned, a hint of impatience flashing in his eyes. "What nonsense are you spouting now?"

"How can you say that's nonsense?"

When Hua Rong's smile fully blossomed, a hint of longing appeared on her dashing face.

"Your cousin here has really fallen for you this time. I fell in love at first sight, then at second sight, and by the third sight... we've already secretly pledged our lives to each other."

He gazed toward the palace, his eyes unfocused, his voice as soft as a murmur in a dream:

"Although it's only one-sided—in my heart, Xiaoxuehua and I are already husband and wife, and our love is unwavering."

"..."

Bei Chenji remained silent for a full three breaths.

"Very good. You're crazy enough."

He turned and walked out, his crimson cloak billowing in a cold, hard arc in the wind:

"I will immediately send a message to my uncle—the Menghua Empire—that perhaps it is time to consider appointing a new, sensible crown prince."

Bei Chenji mounted his horse and headed towards the Bei Chen residence.

Horse hooves shattered the thin ice on the shore.

Bei Chenji galloped away on his horse, his crimson cloak fluttering behind him like a dark meteor tearing through the snowy night.

Hua Rong followed closely behind, riding a pure white steed. Her dark pink robes fluttered in the wind, like a bright peach blossom suddenly blooming in the snow.

Young and spirited, unrestrained and free-spirited, he exudes an unbridled arrogance that defies worldly constraints.

"This Mirror Moon Lake is truly beautiful..."

Hua Rongshi stopped by the lake and gazed at the scene before her, sighing softly in admiration.

Mirror Moon Lake in the center of Baiyujing is indeed like a teardrop fallen into the mortal world, embedded among the white snow.

The lake was not completely frozen over; the thin ice reflected the sunlight and moonlight, shimmering with a fine, silvery sheen.

In the distance, plum blossoms are adorned with snow, and green bamboo is covered in frost; everything is as tranquil as a painting, so beautiful it seems otherworldly.

"The lake is beautiful, and so is its name," Hua Rongshi chuckled. "A flower in a mirror, the moon in the water—it couldn't be more fitting."

"Not beautiful at all."

Bei Chenji's voice was cold and hard as iron, shattering the tranquility.

He stood on the shore of the lake, gazing at the frozen expanse of water.

Everyone praises Mirror Moon Lake as the most beautiful scenic spot in Baiyujing, but few people know that the name of this lake comes from the title of Princess Chenyao.

Princess Jingyue, Tangxi Xue.

"Cousin, put your hands on your heart." Hua Rongshi rode closer, raising an eyebrow at him. "How come such a paradise is described as unattractive by you?"

"laugh."

Bei Chenji responded with only a short, cold sneer.

Of course he remembered—the first imperial decree issued by Emperor Shengchen Tangxi upon his ascension to the throne was to name this lake "Mirror Moon".

At that time, the emperor stood atop the golden palace, personally placing the jade seal bearing the title "Princess Jingyue" on his young sister's finger, each character clearly written:

"My beloved weaving should be like a bright mirror reflecting the world, and a clear moon in the sky."

"From this day forward, this lake will be named Mirror Moon—for in my heart, Zhizhi is the most beautiful pearl of the empire."

The lake's name is its title, and the title is its honor.

Meanwhile, the empire's most beautiful jewel is sleeping soundly in the Hall of Longevity.

However, the Imperial Study in Chengtian Hall was brightly lit with candles all night long.

Tang Xiye leaned against the carved snow window, dressed in a black robe embroidered with gold, a thin layer of frost on his shoulders. He stood there all night.

The sky outside the window was just before dawn, and the hazy gray-blue light seeped into the hall, reflecting off his sharply defined profile and the dark bloodshot veins in his eyes.

"He—spent the night at the Orihime Palace?"

The emperor spoke, his voice hoarse and strained, like sandpaper scraping against cold iron.

Shen Cuo knelt on one knee below, his forehead pressed tightly against the back of his hand, his inner shirt already soaked with cold sweat.

He dared not look up, feeling a tangible sense of oppression pressing down from the direction of the throne, almost crushing his spine.

"Yes." He uttered the word with difficulty, his Adam's apple bobbing. "He entered the Hall of Longevity at three-quarters past midnight last night, and has not yet emerged."

The hall was deathly silent.

The only sounds were the occasional soft crackling of the candle flame and the grating sound of the emperor's knuckles slowly tightening and the paper being squeezed into rough wrinkles.

Tang Xiye lowered her eyes, her gaze falling on the stack of secret reports in her palm.

Pei Yanchuan, courtesy name Yinglin, was the son of Pei Qilin of Beichuan Yunting. He was eighteen years old.

He could compose poems at the age of three, write policies at the age of five, and master the century-old laws of Beichuan at the age of seven. At the age of ten, his "Ode to the Snow Country" shook the literary world of China, earning him the title of "Literary Star of Beichuan".

Her father was Pei Zhao, a renowned scholar, and her mother was Mei Ruohuan, a plum blossom spirit from Beichuan.

That woman who was once known as one of the "Twin Jewels of the Nine Provinces" alongside Bei Chenji's mother, Hua Qingwan.

Further down is the bloody case of the Pei family being accused of treason and wiped out; the five years of wandering and hardship of the young man; and the account of his struggle to survive in the mud, yet remaining as pure as bamboo.

There was even a commentary from his strategist, Yan Ci:

"This young man is resilient and pure of heart, remaining untainted even in the face of adversity. He would be a perfect match for a good man."

"A good man...a perfect match..."

Tang Xiye slowly repeated these four words, then suddenly chuckled softly.

The laughter carried a chilling undercurrent of suppressed emotion.

He clenched the paper tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning bluish-white with force, as if he wanted to crush the three characters "Pei Yanchuan" in his palm.

"No one is worthy of my Zhizhi."

He looked up at the gradually brightening sky outside the window, and spoke each word as if an icicle were piercing the ground:

No one will do.

Shen Cuo lay on the ground, his breathing stopped.

He felt that the wind that night had never been so biting.

The emperor slowly released his grip, letting the pages filled with the names of young talents fall to the ground like a colorful snowfall.

He turned and walked towards the imperial desk, his voice regaining its usual calmness, yet colder than ever before:

"By imperial decree, Pei Yanchuan is to be summoned to the Plum Blossom Banquet three days from now."

He paused, then added, his eyes unfathomable:

"I want to see for myself... what kind of good man this orphan of the Pei family truly is."

Shen Cuo felt a chill run down his spine just hearing that Pei Yanchuan was hearing this.

This is probably a trap!