CHAPTER 214: SHOW YOUR FACE

The drums slowed to a steady, measured beat. One step. Another. Each pulse of sound felt like it struck directly into Zhao Ling Xu’s chest.

He was only a few paces from the dais now. The throne—dark wood polished to a mirror finish, trimmed in gold—loomed just ahead. The air around it felt hot, heavy. Even though he hadn’t yet touched it, he could feel it—like it was alive, like it was watching him.

He paused at the bottom step.

A court official stepped forward, voice ringing through the hush of the hall. "Let His Highness ascend the dais and claim the seat of Heaven’s mandate."

He swallowed, then took the first step.

The silk of his robe brushed against the stairs. His breath was tight in his throat. With every step, the music swelled—flutes winding up like gentle wind, the plucking of strings echoing through the marble chamber.

At the top, he stopped again. He was close enough now that he could see the crown resting on its black silk cushion—a single band of deep gold, shaped with the ancient motifs of dragons and phoenixes. It seemed to glow in the lamplight.

It’s so close, he thought.

But every part of him felt far away.

He heard the faint whisper of the court, the shifting of rich robes as the assembled nobles leaned closer. He could feel the weight of their stares—some eager, some resentful, some empty.

He couldn’t look at them.

His eyes fixed on the crown. The final moment that would seal everything.

But before it could be reached—

A voice rang out.

"Announcing the Empress of the Eastern Empire," the herald declared, his voice high and formal, echoing in the silent hall.

"The Qin from the Su family—Empress Qin Su!"

There was a moment of stunned stillness.

Whispers rose immediately. People glanced at each other, startled. Some mouths fell open. Some looked away, suddenly pale.

The First Consort?

Qin Su—Zhao Yan’s first wife—how could she be the Empress?

What does this mean?

But no one dared to speak out loud.

Not with the Prime Minister’s eyes on them.

The dancers who had been kneeling lifted their heads just enough to watch. Musicians faltered in their playing—fingers slipping before they caught themselves. The tension in the air was so thick it tasted bitter on the tongue.

And then she appeared.

From the long hallway at the back of the hall, a figure stepped forward.

The new Empress.

Qin Su.

Her steps were slow. Measured. Deliberate. Each step placed perfectly, the soft hiss of silk against the marble floor. She was dressed in robes of deep red, the color of celebration but also of blood. The silk was heavy, each layer embroidered with silver peonies and curling dragon shapes, the sleeves long and trailing like liquid shadow.

A golden belt cinched her waist. Pearls and jade hung from the belt’s tassels, clinking softly as she moved. Her hair was piled high, woven through with gold hairpins shaped like phoenixes, their tails glimmering with rubies that caught the candlelight.

A thin veil of sheer white silk covered her face from the nose down, obscuring her features—but not her presence.

Because even though no one could see her fully, they felt it.

She was beautiful.

Breathtaking in her poise, in the curve of her slender neck, in the way her robe moved around her as she walked. Even the smallest movements—her fingers brushing the edge of her sleeve, the way she tilted her head slightly—were as graceful as a dancer’s. Controlled. Unshakable.

Yet everyone in the hall knew she had been poisoned.

That she had nearly died.

That she had been lying near death’s door just days before.

But there was no sign of that now.

She moved like she had been born to it.

The Prime Minister’s eyes narrowed faintly as he watched her. Something in his smile shifted—just a hair. A flicker of unease, gone as quickly as it came.

Because while he had expected her to appear—he had made sure of it—he had not expected this.

Not this steadiness.

Not this strength.

Qin Su reached the dais and paused. She stood just a step below Zhao Ling Xu, head bowed, the sheer veil fluttering slightly with her breath.

Zhao Ling Xu’s heart thudded once.

He had seen her before. In passing. In the quiet halls of the palace, always quiet and reserved. But today, she was something else entirely. A phantom. A challenge. A presence that filled the whole room.

He reached out a hand to her.

It was the first time he had moved with purpose since he entered the hall.

She looked up, just enough to meet his eyes through the veil.

Then she placed her hand in his.

It was small and cold in his grasp. But it didn’t tremble.

Together, they stepped onto the final platform. Behind them, two smaller thrones waited—twin seats of dark wood, draped in silk, where they would be crowned and made the symbols of this empire.

The hall seemed to breathe in around them.

The music shifted, the flutes lowering in a final winding note that felt like the last breath before a plunge.

A priest stepped forward from the shadows, holding a long staff carved with dragon heads. "Their Majesties will be seated," he intoned, bowing low.

Zhao Ling Xu hesitated.

He looked at the thrones.

He could feel the heat of every stare on his back. The weight of the crown that would soon be his. The fate of an empire balanced on the edge of his breath.

But before he could move—

"Wait," Pei Rong’s voice cut through the hall.

The word was soft, but it cracked the air like a whip.

Everything stopped.

Even the music stilled completely.

All eyes turned to him.

The Prime Minister smiled faintly, his head tilted just enough to look thoughtful—almost playful.

He stepped forward slowly, his red robe shifting like blood across the polished floor.

"Covering your face on such a prestigious occasion," he said softly, "is considered... disrespectful, Empress Qin Su."

The quiet that followed was absolute.

Pei Rong’s smile widened a fraction. "It’s a sign of bad luck, they say. It shows a lack of manners... and a lack of faith."

He let that hang for a moment.

Then his eyes gleamed, dark and calm and utterly sure.

"How about you show your face to the rest of the empire?"