MTLNOVEL Chapter 149: Dumb Enough
"As far as I know," Mingyu said, voice calm but clear, "we only have one Emperor. And he is destined to reign for the next thousand years."
The air thickened.
Across the banquet hall, hands froze mid-reach. Even the dancers stilled at the edges, white sleeves suspended mid-twirl like caught breath.
The Emperor smiled—but it was the kind of smile that made you wonder what knife he was sharpening beneath the table. "You've grown clever," he said mildly, accepting a new cup of wine from a servant. "Though you forget—clever men rarely die of old age."
Mingyu bowed his head in polite deference. "Then I will try not to be clever."
A rustle of stiff laughter moved through the court like a dry wind. Forced. Shallow. No one wanted to be the first to show teeth.
The Baiguang Princess remained standing, hands folded neatly before her. Her smile didn't shift, but her posture had. She angled slightly away from the Emperor, as though she too had forgotten he was alive until just now—and was mildly inconvenienced by his reappearance.
I recognized the expression. I'd worn it often.
But unlike me, she didn't try to mask it.
The Empress motioned for her to sit again, reclaiming control with the flick of two fingers. "Your Majesty," she said, her voice soft and pleasant, "our honored guest was only offering her admiration. It's not every day she meets the man who shaped the East."
"Admiration?" the Emperor echoed, raising a brow. "I've always preferred fear. It lasts longer."
Another chuckle from the generals. This one darker.
Still, the Princess bowed once more and lowered herself onto the cushion beside the Empress, back straight, eyes lowered. It was an act, but a well-practiced one.
The first course was served.
I barely tasted it. Shark fin in a light broth, scented with ginger and scallion. Delicate. Expensive. Carefully chosen for its symbolism—resilience, prestige, and control over the sea. I set my spoon down after two bites and reached for my wine instead.
Across the room, Consort Mei had begun speaking with the Princess again, all sugar-dipped questions and warm laughter. I caught only snippets through the din—mentions of Baiguang's gardens, the clarity of its winter skies, the silk routes—and each time the Princess responded, her words danced, but never stumbled.
It was effortless.
Which made it more dangerous.
"She's impressive," I murmured, keeping my eyes on the dancers now returning to the floor.
"So are vipers," Mingyu muttered. "But that doesn't mean you should pet them."
I hid my smile behind my cup.
"She's watching you," I added, once the music swelled loud enough to swallow my voice. "Even when you're not speaking. Especially then."
He didn't look at her. "Let her."
He always knew when to perform and when to hold still. And right now, stillness was more powerful.
But I couldn't match his stillness. Not when I kept catching the Empress's glances—quiet, sideways darts of her gaze toward the corridor behind the throne. She was waiting for someone. Or something.
I shifted slightly in my seat, letting the sleeves of my robe slide back just enough to feel the metal hidden beneath my skin. I felt it shifting with my pulse, ready and anticipating my wants and needs. No one else noticed. No one ever did
The Princess laughed again. Not loudly, but it cut through the air like a bell over still water—perfectly timed, perfectly practiced.
Then she turned her head, eyes landing on Mingyu for the first time in several courses. "Tell me," she said lightly, "is it true you don't enjoy music?"
The question was casual. Too casual. It dropped into the quiet like a silk-wrapped stone.
Mingyu didn't blink. "Where did you hear that?"
"I make it my business to know things," she said, her smile demure, her gaze anything but. "And I've been told you prefer silence to songs. I find that fascinating."
Mingyu reached for his wine, eyes never leaving hers. "Then I'm afraid you should find information sources more reliable," he said smoothly. "I enjoy music—especially the songs my wife sings."
I didn't look at him, but I felt the shift. The court did too. Just enough weight behind the word wife to remind the room who I was. And who she wasn't.
The Princess tilted her head, the jeweled phoenix in her hair catching the candlelight. "Then perhaps we might hear a song from her?" she said sweetly. "I would love to witness something the Crown Prince holds in such affection."
A murmur stirred along the side tables. Not scandalous—yet—but close. The kind of request that danced on the edge of what was acceptable. A noblewoman might sing if asked. A consort might demure. But a Crown Princess, foreign or not, did not casually request a performance from the future Empress of the Empire.
Mingyu didn't even glance at me.
"I'm afraid not," he replied with a pleasant shrug, reaching over and taking my hand with the same ease he might lift a teacup. "I'm a bit… territorial. My wife sings for no one but me."
There was a pause.
Not long. Just long enough for the message to land.
He wasn't defending my voice. He was claiming it.
And in court, that meant everything.
The Princess laughed again—a little tighter this time, her lashes dropping like a curtain. "Ah. How romantic," she said, as if the taste of the word had gone sour in her mouth.
Mingyu smiled, a slow and effortless thing. "It is."
And that was the end of it.
The Empress picked up her wine and raised her cup with a smile too serene to be real. "To shared evenings," she said smoothly, "and the civility of courtly conversation."
Cups were lifted. Wine was poured. The moment was dismissed.
But it lingered, like smoke after fire. The kind of moment that meant nothing on the surface but left the table colder.
Across from me, the Princess no longer looked amused.
She looked intrigued. She would not make the same mistake again, but she was dumb enough to stare a bit too long at the Crown Prince.
If she thought that I was someone to ignore or a simple vase with nothing inside, she was going to learn fast that no one touched what was mine. Not my husband, not my assassin, and defiantly, not the country they both treasured.