The capital shimmered that night, draped in crimson silks and golden banners. The Crimson Lotus Banquet, hosted by the Crown Prince himself, was the most prestigious spring gathering in the empire—a place where alliances were forged and masks worn thicker than powder.
Xiao Mo stood still in his brocade robes, the weight of expectation heavy on his shoulders. Beside him, Yuan Sijun looked effortless, as always—dressed in deep navy with silver embroidery, his posture relaxed but commanding.
It had been three months since the night Xiao Mo fled his arranged engagement and sought refuge at Yuan's estate. Since then, something between them had shifted.
The air around them had grown… taut.
More charged glances. More silences that spoke volumes. More lingering touches that ended just short of being more.
And yet, they had said nothing.
Now, under the eyes of the entire court, Xiao Mo suddenly felt worlds away from him.
—
"General Yuan, it's been far too long." A lilting voice interrupted their quiet.
Xiao Mo turned—and stiffened.
The speaker was Lady Wen Qian, daughter of the Minister of Rites. Renowned for her beauty and cunning wit, she glided through the crowd like she owned the air itself. Tonight, her red gown shimmered like fire.
She was also, rumor said, being quietly courted by Yuan's family for marriage.
"Sijun," she said smoothly, placing a hand on Yuan's sleeve. "Dance with me. You owe me one from last year."
Xiao Mo looked away instinctively, hiding the flicker in his eyes. He shouldn't care. He wasn't anything to Yuan—wasn't a betrothed, a lover, not even a confidant anymore.
Yuan hesitated. "I don't dance."
"You did once," she said, coy. "Have you changed that much?"
Her fingers curled tighter.
"Go," Xiao Mo said, forcing a smile. "You'll insult her if you don't."
Yuan turned to him, searching his face. "Do you want me to?"
Xiao Mo's heart twisted. Don't go. Please don't go.
But he said, "Why wouldn't I?"
Yuan let out a breath, then bowed to Lady Wen. "Just one."
As they disappeared into the sea of nobles, Xiao Mo's smile fell.
—
He found himself wandering the edge of the garden, past dancers and laughter and flutes, toward the koi pond where shadows lived quieter lives.
He knelt on the stone bridge, watching the moon ripple in the water.
It shouldn't hurt. But it does.
In his old life, he'd been forgotten easily. Teachers forgot he was present. Classmates forgot his birthday. Even death came quietly, like he didn't matter.
But Yuan had made him feel like he did.
And now—now he was just another face in a crowd of suitors.
He pressed a hand to his chest. That ache again.
"Why did I even come?"
"You tell me."
Xiao Mo startled, spinning around.
Yuan stood at the edge of the bridge, breathless, brows furrowed. His robes were slightly disheveled, as if he'd left the dance mid-step.
"I looked for you," Yuan said.
"You were busy." Xiao Mo turned away. "She looked beautiful tonight."
"So do you."
The words landed like a stone in still water.
Xiao Mo blinked. "Don't joke."
"I'm not."
A beat passed. Then another.
"You danced with her," Xiao Mo said quietly.
"She's not you."
Xiao Mo's breath caught. "And what does that mean?"
Yuan stepped closer. "It means she doesn't make me look for constellations in your eyes. Doesn't make me want to fight wars just to keep you safe. Doesn't make me forget the rules I was born into."
"You're not supposed to say that," Xiao Mo whispered.
"I know."
Xiao Mo turned slowly. Their eyes met.
Yuan looked vulnerable—unguarded in a way that made him seem young, despite his rank and title. Like he'd peeled off the armor he always wore and stood, quietly, waiting to be either accepted or cut down.
"I hated seeing her touch you," Xiao Mo admitted, voice trembling. "I hated how easy you looked beside her."
"She wasn't the one I wanted to hold."
Silence stretched between them—raw, electric.
Then Yuan reached out, brushing his knuckles gently along Xiao Mo's cheek.
"I'm tired of pretending," he murmured.
Xiao Mo closed his eyes. "Then don't."
Their lips met in the hush of moonlight. Slower this time. Deeper. Nothing hesitant. Nothing restrained.
It was not just a kiss. It was everything they hadn't said.
When they pulled apart, Xiao Mo leaned into Yuan's chest, letting himself be held.
No more hiding.
Not tonight.
—
Far across the garden, behind the veil of blossoms and lanterns, Lady Wen stood alone, a half-smile on her lips.
She had seen them.
And she would not forget.