Chapter 4: The Princess's Sickness

Taking leave of his second younger brother, Edwin, Arthur walked with long, swift strides back toward Ruyi Hall. Before long, he could see the warm red lantern light glowing softly from the courtyard in the distance.

He was accustomed to living a simple life, having spent most of his recent years away on military campaigns rather than staying at home. In the past, aside from a single pageboy responsible for sweeping dust and locking the gates, Ruyi Hall had no other servants.

Now that Ruyi Hall had a mistress, however, the courtyard was considerably livelier than before.

In the courtyard, Pearl was directing pageboys as they carried buckets of hot water one by one. One boy stumbled clumsily, spilling nearly half a bucket of water right onto Pearl’s skirt. Pearl let out a startled gasp, inadvertently disturbing the person resting inside the room.

A window was pushed open, and Evelyn leaned her head out, only to be struck by a chilly draft that made her sneeze softly.

"Your Highness!" Pearl ignored her soaked skirts and rushed over to check on Evelyn. "Please take care of your health, Your Highness. We have the family banquet tomorrow, so you must not catch a chill!"

"Don't worry, I'm fine." Evelyn offered a faint smile. The tip of her nose was slightly flushed, and the bright moonlight broke into shimmering ripples within her expressive eyes, though her smile carried a gentle shade of melancholy.

Arthur lost himself for a fleeting moment before furrowing his brows in annoyance. Bathed every single day—was she not tired of the hassle? It was already late autumn, and winter would arrive in no time. This was precisely the season when people caught colds easily, making daily baths entirely unsuitable. Given her fragile body, if she fell ill, she would be the one suffering.

Stepping forward, he took the heavy water buckets from the pageboy’s hands and carried them toward the washroom as effortlessly as walking on level ground, quickly filling the large wooden tub to the brim.

Dismissing the pageboys, Arthur stood outside the window and asked, "Why are you bathing again today? Didn't you just wash yesterday?"

"Yesterday was yesterday, and today is today." Evelyn raised her delicate, charming chin slightly, her lips unadorned by rouge looking somewhat pale. "It has been my habit for years to bathe with fragrant incense before retiring to sleep. Back when I was in Shu, my Imperial Father specifically ordered hot spring water to be channeled directly to my princess manor simply because he knew how much I loved bathing."

Evelyn disliked Arthur questioning her about such matters. Was it not equivalent to asking why one needed to eat today if they had already eaten yesterday? Interrogating her over such trivial matters... She was no ordinary woman; having traveled a great distance for peace, could it be that a grand General’s Manor lacked even a single bucket of bathwater for her daily use?

"The night air is cold, so I shall close the window now. Pray suit yourself, General." Evelyn shut the wooden window, her ethereal voice drifting out from inside: "Pearl, come assist me with my bath."

Knowing her mistress was somewhat annoyed, Pearl quickly bowed toward Arthur and followed her inside. Arthur offered no explanation. Given the nature of their relationship, Princess Anyang would likely not believe any explanation he gave anyway, so he decided to let her indulge in her delicate quirks.

Having ridden hard on horseback through the night, he had expended considerable energy and had not yet eaten dinner. Earlier, while riding swiftly, he had not felt cold, but standing in the chilly courtyard for so long now made the sharp autumn cold seep through his clothes.

"Bull," Arthur called out. "Tell the kitchen to make a bowl of noodles and warm up a jug of yellow wine."

Bull nodded promptly and soon returned carrying a tray of hot food. From inside the washroom came the soft splashing of water accompanied by occasional faint voices. Though the conversation was muffled, fragments like "spoiled," "Shu," and "merely bathing" could be faintly heard.

Arthur could roughly guess what Evelyn and Pearl were discussing. He did not deny Evelyn’s words; truthfully speaking, her life in the General’s Manor was indeed far less luxurious and comfortable than back in Shu.

Pearl was dutiful, while Dew was clever and perceptive. Serving inside the main room and seeing Arthur’s stern, dark expression, Dew plucked up her courage and said timidly, "General, you... you have misunderstood our Princess. Please calm your anger and do not blame her."

Arthur merely thought Evelyn was overly particular, but he was not truly angry. It was just that when he wasn't smiling, he looked inherently fierce and cold. Setting down his wine cup, he asked, "You say I misunderstood? Misunderstood what?"

Dew lowered her head, replying respectfully, "In answer to the General: our Princess has been frail and sickly since childhood, suffering especially from a cold constitution. In the scorching heat of summer, she manages fine, but come autumn and winter, her hands and feet become icy cold, preventing her from sleeping through the night. Though she is of royal blood, she is by no means arrogant or domineering. In all the years she has been ill, she has never uttered a single complaint; even when suffering terribly, she would hide from the Emperor and Empress and weep in secret."

This came as a genuine surprise to Arthur. Recalling their wedding night when her eyes had turned red, he realized he must have genuinely hurt her when gripping her wrist. Dew continued, "The Princess’s illness cannot be cured. His Majesty pained for his daughter, and knowing that she could only sleep peacefully after soaking in a hot bath, he had hot spring water from the Eastern Mountains piped directly into her estate. That is how the Princess formed the habit—only after bathing and warming her limbs can she fall asleep at night."

So that was why. It turned out he had indeed misunderstood her. Arthur had assumed she was merely overly fastidious, never imagining there was such an underlying medical reason behind it.

Pearl’s voice echoed from the washroom: "Dew, the Princess has run out of rose hair oil. Please bring some more."

"Understood." Dew went to fetch the fragrant rose oil.

Arthur took another sip of yellow wine. The warm liquid flowed down his throat into his stomach, leaving a trail of soothing warmth from throat to abdomen as the rich aroma lingered. His entire body felt warm and comfortable; he had no concept of what it felt like to lie awake all night with icy limbs. Remembering how her fingertips had felt cool as fine jade when he touched them that night, his dark eyes narrowed in deep thought beneath the shadow of his lashes. "Bull," Arthur instructed, "pass down the word: starting tomorrow evening, light the underfloor heating flues in Ruyi Hall."

·

Crisp birdsong heralded the morning as the General’s Manor buzzed with activity. In previous years, due to volatile political situations and the fact that most men of the Shaw family were military commanders, gathering the entire family had been a rare luxury. Now that all the Shaw brothers were surprisingly together in the capital, the Dowager Lady, Mother Shaw, intended to host a grand family reunion banquet—which also marked the very first family event Evelyn was responsible for organizing.

At five in the afternoon, Arthur returned to the manor. Lord Shaw, Mother Shaw, along with their sons and daughters-in-law took their respective seats. The decorations in the reception hall had been completely refreshed, and the table featured a lavish array of dishes while adhering strictly to Lord Shaw’s distaste for wasteful extravagance. Lord Shaw and Mother Shaw exchanged pleasantly surprised glances at the hall’s elegant arrangement and plentiful spread, nodding repeatedly in approval.

"Thank you for your hard work, Princess," Mother Shaw said sincerely. "Apart from your second brother-in-law, everyone in our Shaw household is a rough soldier. In the past, we just gathered casually for a quick bite and called it a family dinner. It is thanks to the Princess's refined taste and elegance that we can all enjoy such a splendid feast today." Mother Shaw was not merely flattering her; she genuinely admired Evelyn's skill.

Evelyn smiled softly. "As I have said before, Mother may simply call me Evelyn instead of Princess."

Just as they were speaking, a sharp female voice echoed from outside the reception hall: "Eldest Brother, I heard from the housekeeper that there's a family banquet today. Why wasn't I invited?" A sturdy woman in her late forties with handsome facial features walked inside—this was Lord Shaw’s younger sister, Aunt Beatrice, accompanied closely by her son.

The moment they stepped into the hall, Beatrice’s son, Max, stared wide-eyed at the spread. "Oh my, look at all these dishes! This must have cost a fortune!" After speaking, he instinctively swallowed a mouthful of saliva. Beatrice quickly jabbed Max hard with her elbow, whispering sharply, "Keep your mouth shut! Look at where you are, acting like a barbarian." Max immediately withered, not daring to speak another word.

"Why have you come?" Lord Shaw asked, his voice grave.

"I simply came over to visit my eldest brother, of course." Beatrice had originally come to seek a marriage match for her husband’s niece, having heard that Arthur was surrounded by promising young military officers and hoping her powerful general nephew could introduce a few suitable suitors. Happening upon her brother's family banquet, she refrained from bringing up her request immediately.

Lord Shaw’s voice was solemn. "Since you are already here, take a seat together." All of Lord Shaw’s brothers had perished on battlefields, leaving only this single, useless younger sister. Though he disliked her behavior, he fulfilled his duty as an elder brother and ushered her family to sit down promptly.

Men and women sat on opposite sides of the long banquet tables. In a military household, strict rules were minimal; the family gathered together chatting familiarly, with Caleb animatedly describing the battle experiences he had shared with his eldest brother. Though Evelyn was ordinarily uninterested in rough military matters, hearing how Arthur had taken a heavily fortified city guarded by ten thousand soldiers with only eight hundred cavalrymen, she unconsciously listened intently, holding her breath during critical moments. She had to admit that Arthur was indeed a gifted military commander—it was merely a pity he was not serving under her father’s banner.

Everyone listened attentively with bated breath, except for one person who neither understood nor cared for military stories, unable to join the conversation and doing nothing but silently picking food with his chopsticks—Arthur’s cousin, Max. Max sat right below Arthur, directly across from Evelyn at a slight angle. Every time he raised his chopsticks, his eyes naturally caught sight of that mesmerizing, breathtaking face, causing his hands to freeze mid-air.

As he stared absentmindedly, a wine cup suddenly extended into his field of vision, blocking his view completely. "It has been a long time. Let me toast my cousin," Arthur said coldly. "I brewed this wine myself, so you must drink plenty of it."

Coming to his senses, Max realized his formidable general cousin was offering him a toast. Yet looking at Arthur’s dark expression, it felt less like a toast and more like a predatory wolf stepping out from a pitch-black cave, ready to devour him alive. Max’s hairs stood on end instantly; not daring to refuse, he bowed hurriedly in agreement. Arthur pushed aside Max's small wine cup, replacing it with a large, wide-rimmed bowl, pouring the strong liquor until it overflowed.

Max froze. Just as he was about to decline, he looked up and met a pair of dark, inscrutable eyes. That icy, razor-sharp gaze delivered a clear and terrifying warning: Drink whether you like it or not. Look at what you should, and keep your eyes off what you shouldn't. Feeling guilty, Max swallowed the large bowl of potent liquor with a sheepish expression, never daring to cast another glance at Evelyn for the rest of the meal.

The family banquet lasted for half an hour before Lord Shaw and Mother Shaw excused themselves to rest. Once her parents-in-law had departed, Evelyn felt no desire to stay and socialize further; having consumed some fruit wine, she felt drowsy and wished to leave. Rising to her feet, she was immediately supported by Pearl. "General Shaw, I am fatigued and shall return to my quarters first." Evelyn was not seeking his permission, but informing him.

She cast a faint, distant glance at Arthur, her natural regal arrogance making her appear like an ethereal goddess untainted by worldly dust. Arthur nodded in response: "Mm." He intended to walk back with her, stepping up to stand beside her. The two kept half a body's distance between them, their eyes never meeting.

Aunt Beatrice glanced sideways at them. She had already noticed subtle peculiarities at the dinner table, and now her suspicions were fully confirmed: these two did not look like a newlywed couple at all! Every detail betrayed a cold distance, looking more estranged than complete strangers. Looking at the tall, heroic Arthur and then remembering her husband’s young and beautiful niece, a startling idea suddenly crossed her mind.

Chapter 5: Out-Acting One Another

"We rarely gather like this—why leave so early? Could it be that the Princess finds our Great Xing dishes not to her taste? I noticed you barely touched a thing with your chopsticks."

Seeing Evelyn turn to leave, Aunt Beatrice stepped forward hastily and grabbed her sleeve.

Evelyn was just about to take a step when she felt a sudden tug on her sleeve. She lowered her eyes to find Aunt Beatrice holding onto her fast.

From the day she was born until now, no one had ever dared to treat her with such audacity.

This nominal aunt of Arthur’s truly lacked all sense of etiquette and boundaries.

The moment Aunt Beatrice made her move, the expressions of everyone else at the banquet table shifted, and the atmosphere instantly froze.

Evelyn’s face darkened. "Let go—"

Her voice was not loud, yet it resonated with overwhelming majesty. Those cold, delicate eyes, usually brimming with quiet shyness, were now filled with the aloofness and intimidating aura of a true sovereign.

Startled by her presence, Aunt Beatrice released her grip almost involuntarily, compelled by Evelyn's command.

However, she quickly regained her composure.

So what if she was a Princess of Shu? In the end, had she not married into the Shaw family as a daughter-in-law, destined to serve and please her tall, imposing nephew in bed?

A pampered princess from a fallen kingdom, married into the estate of an enemy general—what good end could she possibly expect?

Arthur did not even seem particularly fond of her anyway; what right did she have to put on such grand airs?

Aunt Beatrice forced a half-joking smile. "Niece-in-law, are you unhappy? I hear you addressing your own husband as 'General Shaw' this and 'General Shaw' that. It's only been a few days since the wedding—could it be that you and Arthur have already quarreled?"

Aunt Beatrice waited for Evelyn’s response, eager to see how she would squirm her way out of it.

To her surprise, Evelyn did not deign to offer her the slightest explanation. "What does that have to do with you?"

Aunt Beatrice choked for a moment. "I... I am Arthur’s aunt, which makes me your aunt as well. Naturally, I am asking out of concern for you both."

"Aunt?" Evelyn let out a cold laugh. "My aunt is the Grand Princess Royal of Shu. According to her habits, she should be fishing for autumn trout by the Lake of Unnamed Waters in Shu at this hour. As for you—"

Her words trailed off as her eyes swept up and down Aunt Beatrice, silently asking: Who do you think you are?

Aunt Beatrice’s face flushed red, then turned pale.

Just as she was about to snap back, Arthur stepped between the two women. With effortless naturalness, his hand swept around and encircled Evelyn’s waist.

"Aunt, His Majesty explicitly declared that when Princess Anyang married into the General’s Manor, she need not observe the etiquette of Great Xing and should simply maintain the customs of Shu. Pray do not question His Majesty's decree, Aunt, lest you bring trouble upon our estate."

Aunt Beatrice had not expected her nephew to suddenly intervene, much less invoke the Emperor’s own decree.

Having such a heavy accusation thrust upon her, she naturally dared not utter another word of protest.

Arthur turned his head slightly. "Evelyn, are you drunk?"

Evelyn?

Hearing the man address her so intimately, Evelyn found it strange and instinctively tried to break free from Arthur’s embrace.

Arthur exerted a firm pressure with his hand. To an onlooker, it appeared as though he were gently caressing his wife's waist, but he was actually signaling to her.

Before she could pull away, realization dawned on her.

She knew this nominal aunt was deliberately trying to make a fool of her, and Arthur was putting on an act to shut her down.

Feeling somewhat lightheaded already, Evelyn decided to lean into her dizziness. She leaned softly against Arthur’s shoulder, her whole body resting pliantly against him.

"I am indeed feeling a bit lightheaded. I wonder why that fruit wine has such a strong aftereffect."

Evelyn lifted her face with tear-filled eyes, a delicate mist rising at the corners of her eyes—muffled, hazy, and deeply alluring.

She rubbed her temple with one hand while holding a silk handkerchief over her lips with the other, coughing with a breath so weak it seemed it might break, yet sweeter and more stirring to the heart than a skylark’s song.

That fragile air made her look like a piece of precious jade held in the palm of a hand—one that would shatter instantly if accidentally dropped to the ground.

Even knowing full well it was all an act, Arthur could not help but fall under her spell.

Compared to him, Evelyn was not tall at all; the top of her head barely reached his chin. Her face was dainty, her figure delicate and slender. Leaning completely against him, her soft warmth mixed with a sweet fragrance made an unexplainable heat surge through him.

"Fruit wine is always like this. It isn't harsh when it touches the lips, only subtly sweet. You indulged your sweet tooth and drank a bit too much; now that the alcohol is catching up to you, it's natural to feel intoxicated." Arthur instinctively brushed away the mist of tears at the corner of Evelyn's eyes, his fingertips trembling subtly at the touch. "Since you are drunk, I shall take you back."

Not only Aunt Beatrice, but even the brothers and sisters-in-law present were utterly dumbfounded.

Was this really their General Shaw, whose sole focus had always been military training and warfare? Was this truly their eldest brother, who had never let a woman near him?

What shocked them even more was that before Arthur had even finished speaking, he scooped Evelyn up by the crook of her knees, lifting her directly into a bridal carry.

Evelyn was wearing a wide-sleeved silk gown. As her hem spread out, it swayed in mid-air to form a perfect arc, like a light, delicate bird nestling securely against a towering tree that held up the heavens.

Evelyn’s heart thumped rapidly. Her hands involuntarily clutched the fabric of the clothes over Arthur's chest.

Given the presence of others, she refrained from speaking. She buried her face against his inner chest, pretending to sleep, though her mind was already buzzing with doubts.

Was this act taking things a bit too far?

"Please continue without us. Evelyn and I shall head back first."

As Arthur spoke, his chest vibrated, rumbling softly. Evelyn felt a tingling sensation in her palms, letting Arthur carry her all the way toward Ruyi Hall.

Pearl and Dew, the two maidservants, blushed bright red and sensibly dared not follow too closely behind.

Rounding a corner and stepping through the moon gate, the noise and clamor of the banquet were left far behind.

Evelyn raised her head, pushing her hands against Arthur’s chest to create some space between them.

"There's no one around anymore. The General may put me down now."

Arthur offered a low "Mm," instantly reverting to his usual calm, impassive self.

When Evelyn’s feet touched the ground, her head spun, causing her to sway slightly. She hurriedly reached out to steady herself against a nearby pillar.

"Can you walk on your own?" Arthur asked.

Technically she could, though whether she could walk straight was another story. Proud and mindful of her dignity since childhood, Evelyn refused to let Arthur see her lose her composure.

"I am fine. The General may go ahead. I shall walk back slowly; it will help clear the wine from my head."

Arthur paused in place for a moment. Instead of leaving, he suddenly raised his left arm.

"Once you pass the covered walkway ahead, there won't be anything for you to lean on," Arthur said. "Hold onto my arm so you don't fall and hurt yourself."

Evelyn looked back toward the reception hall. Seeing no sign of anyone—and with Pearl and Dew clearly not planning to follow anytime soon—she realized that refusing now would only result in her suffering the consequences.

Choosing the lesser of two evils, Evelyn nodded. Raising her slender, jade-like hand, she casually rested it on Arthur’s forearm.

"In that case, I shall trouble the General."

Arthur matched her slow pace the entire way. The two walked quietly together as the cool night breeze gradually dissipated the lingering warmth of the wine.

She silently glanced up at him.

Arthur’s hair was bound high in a ponytail with a vivid red ribbon. A few loose strands fell naturally, and the moonlight cast an elegant, alabaster outline over his profile, flawless beyond reproach.

She had to admit his face was indeed exactly the type she favored.

Though chaotic thoughts drifted through Evelyn’s mind like wild grass in the wind, her expression maintained the dignified composure fitting for a princess. "Thank you for what happened today, General. Thank you for coming to my rescue."

"No need to thank me."

He did not need Evelyn’s gratitude, nor did he feel she owed him any thanks.

Taking care of Evelyn was his duty; only in this way could both Xing and Shu remain at peace.

He was a general who fought on battlefields, accustomed to strife and unafraid of bloodshed. Yet the more he experienced war, the more he cherished the current peace under heaven.

Since it was his duty, it required no validation from others. He would simply do what he was supposed to do.

Arthur kept his gaze straight ahead.

From the reception hall to the covered walkway, lanterns illuminated the path. However, after passing the walkway, there were no streetlamps along the road leading all the way to Ruyi Hall.

Along the way, they had to pass by a waterside pavilion and a long bridge over the lake. To prevent any accidents, Arthur focused entirely on the path ahead.

Before long, the two returned to Ruyi Hall.

A sudden gust of night wind rustled through the courtyard, blowing a lone leaf from the apricot tree, whirling it into a small vortex on the flagstones.

Evelyn had left her heavy cloak behind at the reception hall. Having stepped away from the man's warm embrace earlier, she had been feeling the chill for quite some time.

Releasing her grip on Arthur’s forearm, she stepped into the inner chamber first.

The moment the door opened, a wave of warmth washed over her face. The entire bedroom was as warm as spring.

"Ruyi Hall’s underfloor heating has been lit?" Evelyn turned around, asking in pleasant surprise.

The sudden contrast between cold and heat sent a fine shiver across her skin. Arthur’s eyes fell upon her slender neck.

Her neck was far too thin; his single palm could easily wrap around it.

The man let out a casual "Mm" and averted his gaze.

Since winter had not officially arrived yet, Evelyn guessed that Arthur had lit the heating specifically for her, feeling a touch of emotion in her heart.

Perhaps her initial impressions had prejudiced her; Arthur was not as terrifying or unreasonable as the rumors made him out to be.

It was merely a pity that he rarely smiled. Handsome as he was, he truly looked far too fierce.

·

Sleeping soundly without a single dream, Evelyn woke up the next morning at half-past seven.

Mother Shaw did not require her to pay morning respects or serve tea daily, and Arthur had left early for the military camp, leaving her with a rare moment of peaceful leisure.

With the autumn air crisp and clear, Evelyn was in a delightful mood. She asked Dew to accompany her to the General Manor’s artificial lake to feed the fish.

The artificial lake was not particularly refined, but it covered a vast area and appeared quite grand.

The pond was large and the fish were plump; Evelyn estimated at a glance that the longest carp was roughly as long as one of Arthur's legs.

"Your Highness, why are you in such a wonderful mood today?" Seeing her mistress looking radiant, Dew felt happy as well.

Evelyn scattered a handful of fish food. "Yesterday, a rough soldier like General Shaw actually had the underfloor heating lit for Ruyi Hall, which was quite beyond my expectation. Having slept well, my mood is naturally good."

Dew instantly remembered the conversation she had with the General that night.

Originally, she had simply not wanted the General to misunderstand the Princess. Her mistress had been pampered since childhood and did not know how to bow her head. Yet the General's Manor was not the Imperial Palace of Shu; if conflict truly broke out between the General and the Princess, would it not be her mistress who suffered in the end?

Finding an opportunity, Dew had naturally tried to smooth things over.

She just hadn't expected that General Shaw would not only refrain from taking offense, but would actually take her words to heart, ordering the underfloor heating to be lit the very next day.

Dew said, "Your Highness, seeing how General Shaw treats you, he seems to be a good husband worthy of your trust."

"A good husband? He is anything but."

She had merely revised her opinion of Arthur slightly; she had never truly viewed him as a husband in any meaningful sense.

Evelyn’s thoughts drifted back to several months ago.

Dark clouds had pressed heavy over the city. She had gathered her skirts and quietly climbed the ramparts of the imperial palace. Below, the vast army of Xing surged forward, laying siege to the city like a giant beast opening its maw, sending a chill through anyone who looked upon it.

The man at the very front wore heavy armor and held a red-tasseled spear, his dark gold cloak billowing violently in the howling wind. His imposing, magnificent presence had pierced her eyes with bitter clarity.

Had her Imperial Father not intended to negotiate for peace, she might very well have become a soul slain beneath his spear.

She understood all too well what this marriage between her and Arthur really was.

It was nothing more than a political alliance for peace. She did it solely for Shu, and there was no need to foster genuine affection for the man.

Unaware of what her mistress was thinking, Dew continued to advise her softly, "Your Highness, even if you do not admire him, you should at least bear a child. For now, people respect you because you are a princess married for peace, but what about in the future? Having a child will at least give you something to rely on."

"I do not wish to have a child with him," Evelyn declared with absolute certainty, though a faint, imperceptible bitterness crept into her voice. "Besides... I cannot bear children anyway. Didn't the imperial physicians of Shu diagnose me long ago? Given my health, it is almost impossible for me to conceive."

"Your Highness..." Dew’s eyes turned red. "It was your servant's fault for speaking out of turn."

Evelyn glared at her. "What are you crying for? Children and grandchildren have their own fortunes. Without them, I get to enjoy my own life. I refuse to believe the Shaw family would dare do anything to me."

Amused by her mistress, Dew wiped away her tears and nodded vigorously.

Mistress and servant continued feeding the fish by the artificial lake, completely unaware that every single word of their conversation was overheard by someone standing hidden behind the thickets.

Chapter 6: Feigning Drunkenness

On the seventh day of the tenth month, news arrived of a grand victory in the southwest. The foreign invaders troubling the borderlands had either been slain or forced to surrender; Great Xing had officially entered a period of newfound stability.

The deadly Tiger Wing Army returned in triumph, its elite forces marching grandly through the southern city gates into the capital.

At this time, Arthur was still in the military encampment training soldiers when a guard rushed inside to deliver an urgent dispatch.

"General! An expedited message from the Tiger Wing Army!"

Arthur took the message, unrolled it, and let out a look that said, I knew this was coming.

When five o'clock arrived, Arthur left the camp and spurred his horse toward the city. Today, he did not return directly to the manor; instead, he headed straight for Changle Tavern on the West Street.

By the time he reached the tavern, dusk had not yet fallen. Handing his black-maned horse to a page, he went up to the second floor and quickly picked out Lucas from the noisy crowd.

Lucas was sitting by a street-facing window eating grapes. Seeing Arthur from afar, he waved his hand toward him.

"Brother Arthur, over here!"

Arthur walked over, though he did not sit down immediately. "Why did you choose to meet here?"

"Don't even mention it—it makes my blood boil just thinking about it. Guess what? I led the Tiger Wing Army to pacify the southwest in three months, and before I could even catch my breath upon returning, my mother began forcing me to propose to the Chancellor's eldest daughter!"

Lucas was not only the son of the Grand Princess Royal and a general of the Tiger Wing Army, but also Arthur's childhood brother. Arthur knew full well what kind of temperament the Grand Princess Royal possessed.

Lucas wore a helpless expression. "I heard that Chancellor's daughter is utterly talentless and hideously unattractive. I don't want to marry her, so I came here to drown my sorrows in wine."

Arthur was left speechless.

"Using an urgent dispatch from the Tiger Wing Army just to invite me out for drinks and old times—only you could pull a stunt like that."

Pouring himself a cup of wine, Arthur sat down squarely, assuming the rigid, upright posture natural to a military commander.

He wore a dark blue-black robe, his satin-like black hair bound high with a red silk ribbon. Throwing his head back to drain the cup, the man's Adam's apple bobbed up and down. His entire demeanor was quiet, solemn, and self-restrained—yet effortlessly striking.

Immediately, several young women felt inclined to approach and strike up a conversation. Arthur cast a cold, sharp glance in their direction; frightened by his glare, the women realized he was an unyielding, stern man and dared not take another step forward.

"Why are you still like this?" Lucas chuckled.

Arthur replied, "Princess Anyang and I are already wed. It is best not to give people any room for gossip."

Lucas rubbed his nose. "I completely forgot you were married. How is she?"

"How is who?"

"Princess Anyang of Shu, of course. I heard she is quite a beauty."

"Don't pry." Arthur didn't answer, asking instead, "How is the Grand Princess Royal's health?"

"She's doing wonderful, and she still keeps you in mind. She mentioned that when you have time, you should bring Princess Anyang to stay at her estate for a few days. When will you be free?"

The Grand Princess Royal treated him like her own son, so Arthur could hardly refuse. "His Majesty has an autumn hunt coming up soon. After returning from the hunt, I will have three days of leave. I shall visit then."

The two chatted idly, mostly discussing the recent campaign in the southwest. Both possessed immense capacities for alcohol; before long, seven or eight wine jars lay empty at their feet.

Lucas was the first to give in, throwing his hands up in defeat. "You win as always. I'll go relieve myself first—we'll continue when I get back."

Since it was still early, Arthur was in no hurry to return. He needed to compile the battle reports from the southwest into a memorial for the Emperor anyway, so hearing Lucas describe the battlefield conditions today was quite convenient.

As Arthur quietly drank alone, a pair of eyes behind a distant pillar was fixed intently on his back.

It was none other than Arthur’s aunt, Beatrice.

Standing beside Beatrice was a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old girl. She had attractive features, and her clever, lively fox-like eyes gave her a distinct charm. This was Peony, a niece from Beatrice's husband's side of the family.

"Aunt, should... should I really go over there?" Peony hesitated; seduction was a trick she had never attempted before.

"Of course! If you don't go, should I?" Beatrice urged earnestly. "Peony, your parents entrusted me with finding you a good match. After thinking it over, no one compares to my own nephew. Think about who Arthur is—who could possibly have a brighter future than him?"

"But he is already married to Anyang of Shu..."

Before she could finish, Beatrice interrupted her: "Did you forget what I told you earlier? I heard it with my own ears—that Princess Anyang is a hen that cannot lay eggs! She has been fragile since birth and cannot conceive. Even if she holds my nephew's favor for now, her beauty will fade with age. Add to that her inability to bear children, and what man would continue to care for her? She is destined to wither away and die in the inner quarters!"

"Peony, running into Arthur at the tavern today is a rare opportunity. I am your aunt; why would I ever harm you? Just think about it—Princess Anyang cannot bear children, so my nephew is bound to take concubines in the future. Since he will take someone eventually, why not leave this opportunity to you? That way, our families can deepen our ties."

"If you marry in and bear Arthur's child, your life will be set forever. That princess from Shu is nothing but a sickly creature. Once you enter the manor, with your beauty, you can steal his heart away in just a few days!"

"And as for your father's gambling debts—what ordinary young man could afford to pay them off? Even if someone could, can you guarantee the people from the gambling den wouldn't cause trouble later?"

Peony didn't think her aunt's reasoning made much sense, and she was certainly unwilling to become a concubine. Yet that final sentence struck her right where it hurt most...

Looking from afar, General Shaw was peerlessly handsome, keeping to himself even in a lively tavern like Changle Tavern, clearly unlike other men.

If she could truly forge a bond with the world-famous General Shaw, her father's gambling debts would be settled, and no one would ever dare bully her again.

Gritting her teeth, Peony nodded. "Fine, Aunt. I'll go."

Beatrice's eyes lit up as she handed over a tray carrying a pot of fine wine.

"Go on then, and be sure to use every charm you have. But remember—once it's done, do not forget to honor your aunt with a generous portion of the betrothal gifts."

·

The sun tilted westward, its golden rays scattering across the wine cup and shattering into shimmering ripples.

Arthur held his wine cup, though for some reason, the shimmering light in the cup reminded him of Evelyn’s eyes. On the night of the family banquet, after drinking fruit wine, her eyes had glowed with that exact same bright, tear-misted luster.

Arthur stroked the rim of the cup with his thumb, then raised his hand to drain the contents in one gulp.

As he drank alone, a delicate fragrance brushed past his nose, and a woman seated herself gracefully beside him. She held a wine pot in her hands, her eyes filled with gentle, flowing glances.

Arthur’s brow furrowed. Lucas had many female companions; his first instinct was that she was here looking for Lucas.

He pulled back to create distance, but to his surprise, the woman leaned in closer, speaking softly: "General Shaw, do you not remember me?"

Hearing his surname mentioned suddenly, Arthur grew alert, his eyes turning as cold as ice.

Startled by his gaze, Peony dared not press any closer. "I met the General once when I was small. My aunt is your aunt—does the General have any recollection?"

"You said yourself it was when you were small. How could I possibly remember?" Standing up without a second thought, Arthur moved to change seats. He set his wine cup on the table with a crisp, sharp clack, refusing to say another word.

Peony smiled faintly. "It matters not if you don't remember. Since we met by chance, why not share a drink with Peony before you leave, General?"

As she spoke, she lifted the wine pot, swayed her body, and "accidentally" spilled the contents of the cup all over Arthur’s cloak.

Peony immediately pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at the cloak, her eyes brimming with faint tears: "Forgive me, General! I accidentally wetted your cloak. Why don't you leave it with me, and I shall return it to you with both hands after washing it clean?"

Peony knew her trick was far from subtle. However, men often took advantage of such situations to go along with the act, turning a blind eye to create an opportunity for future interactions.

What she failed to understand was that the man before her was completely impenetrable. He pulled the cloak back from her hands without a shred of leniency.

Arthur said, "No need."

Peony wasn't particularly enamored with Arthur, but she prided herself on her good looks. Usually, a crook of her finger would draw plenty of suitors to follow her. Having her pride crushed so thoroughly today made her ears burn with embarrassment.

Just then, Lucas returned and witnessed the scene.

"Who might this be?" Lucas asked.

Arthur, who had been completely sober a moment ago, raised a hand to press against his temple and slumped wobblingly against Lucas.

Burdened by the sudden weight, Lucas let out a muffled grunt, asking in astonishment, "What's wrong with you?"

"I drank too much... my head is spinning terribly. Call my wife to come pick me up."

"Why bother calling your wife? I can—"

Before Lucas could finish, Arthur shot him a razor-sharp glare. Lucas was a seasoned rogue in matters of the heart, and realization struck him instantly.

He turned to Bull, who was standing nearby: "Bull, what are you standing there dazed for? Your General is drunk!"

Coming to his senses, Bull dashed out of the tavern in a flash, rushing back to the manor to fetch help.

·

Having nothing to do, Evelyn had bathed and changed into clean clothes early in the evening.

She was currently leaning against a rosewood armchair reading a book when Bull sprinted back to the estate in a frenzy, claiming that the General was drunk and needed his mistress to come pick him up.

Evelyn had no desire to go personally; she intended to dismiss Bull and send a carriage to retrieve him instead. Yet just as she gave the order, a realization struck her.

She had always heard that General Shaw had an immense capacity for alcohol and rarely got drunk. Demanding that she come pick him up explicitly suggested there was a deeper reason behind it.

Recalling how Arthur had come to her rescue at the family banquet last time, Evelyn decided to return the favor.

"Wait. I'll go. Prepare the carriage."

Changle Tavern was less than a five-minute drive from the General’s Manor. Stepping through the night air, the carriage soon came to a halt outside the tavern's entrance.

The night had grown chilly. Having bathed recently, her hair was not yet completely dry. Dew reached up to pull the hood of the snow-white cloak over her princess's head, taking care not to let her catch a chill.

"Your Highness, please be careful."

Bull brought over a stepping stool. Evelyn wrapped the white cloak tightly around herself, extended a foot, and stepped down gently. "Is the General on the second floor?"

"Yes," Bull said with embarrassment. "Our General has a great tolerance for alcohol; drinking two or three times today's amount usually poses no problem at all. I don't know what happened today—he just mysteriously got drunk."

"Let us head upstairs first."

Evelyn asked as she walked upstairs. Changle Tavern was at its liveliest hour, with diners gathered together chatting and drinking in bustling cheer.

Yet the moment Evelyn stepped upstairs, the noisy chatter in the tavern seemed to quiet down significantly. Diners everywhere cast subtle, covert glances in her direction.

A glorious moon rose from behind the clouds.

Evelyn wore no makeup, yet she remained breathlessly striking. Wrapped in the snow-white cloak like exquisite porcelain, she was utterly devoid of a single flaw.

Perhaps tired from climbing the stairs, her delicate hand gently rested against her chest. That frail, sickly grace gave her an added touch of unique elegance—fragile, yet possessing an unmistakable, untouchable nobility.

Evelyn had long grown accustomed to such gazes. She casually searched the crowd for that familiar figure.

A gentle breeze ruffled his long hair. Beneath the dimming lantern lights, Arthur leaned drunkenly against the second-floor railing, staring down at her with a deep, heavy gaze.