The moment he sat up, Qingmo rushed in from outside as if he had been guarding the door all along.

“Young Master, you’re awake. This servant prepared warm water. The porridge is also ready. I watched it myself. No one touched it.”

“Good.”

After washing and eating half a bowl of plain porridge, Shen Yuheng finally had enough strength to leave the bed.

Qingmo draped a robe over his shoulders and helped him sit before the bronze mirror.

The mirror was not as clear as interstellar glass. Its surface held a faint golden blur, softening the reflection like mist over a lake. Even so, the face inside was startling.

Sixteen years old, still carrying the tender edges of youth, yet already beautiful enough to silence a room.

His skin was pale like first snow beneath moonlight, made even more luminous by illness. His brows were long and refined, his lashes dark, his eyes calm and deep, as if stars had sunk into still water. His lips, though faintly bloodless, held a natural red at the center. Black hair spilled over his shoulders like ink poured across white silk.

He looked delicate.

He was not.

That was perhaps the most deceptive thing about this body. The beauty invited pity, desire, jealousy, and possession, but beneath the almost unreal appearance was a mind that had endured two lives without breaking.

Qingmo stood behind him, holding the comb, and forgot to move.

Shen Yuheng glanced at him through the mirror.

“What is it?”

Qingmo flushed. “Nothing. This servant only feels… Young Master looks much better.”

That was not entirely true.

He wanted to say that the young master looked like a banished immortal who had finally opened his eyes to the mortal world. But such words felt too bold, so he swallowed them.

Shen Yuheng did not expose him.

“Bring me the clothes prepared for the banquet.”

Qingmo’s expression immediately soured.

“Madam Xu sent two sets. One is too plain. The other is…” He hesitated, clearly angry. “The other is beautiful, but the waist has been tightened too much, and the outer robe is thin. If Young Master wears it in the palace wind, you will certainly fall ill again.”

Shen Yuheng’s gaze remained calm.

Madam Xu’s methods were never without layers.

Too plain, and he would seem disrespectful before the imperial family. Too delicate, and he would appear as nothing more than a pretty, weak ger child meant to be looked at and arranged.

“Take out the moon-white robe my parent left me.”

Qingmo hesitated. “But that was left by Lord Lanyin. Young Master has always been reluctant to wear it.”

“That is why I should wear it.”

Shen Lanyin had come from a good family and possessed excellent taste. The robe he left behind was moon-white with silver-thread cloud patterns, elegant without being ostentatious. It suited the palace, suited mourning memory, and suited Shen Yuheng’s status as a legitimate child.

More importantly, Madam Xu could not criticize it.

To criticize the robe would be to criticize the deceased legitimate spouse before an imperial banquet.

Shen Yuheng lowered his eyes and selected a white jade hairpin from the small box on the dressing table.

“Also, prepare the account booklet for my courtyard.”

Qingmo blinked. “The account booklet?”

“Mm. The one you hid beneath the winter quilts.”

Qingmo froze.

“Young Master knew?”

Shen Yuheng looked at him through the mirror. “You are loyal, not subtle.”

Qingmo lowered his head, embarrassed.

In the original memories, Qingmo had been secretly recording every reduction in allowance, every missing item, every servant who took bribes from Madam Xu’s people. His handwriting was crooked, and some calculations were wrong, but the intent was good.

Shen Yuheng had known.

The former Shen Yuheng had not been powerless because he saw nothing. He had been powerless because he lacked timing.

Now, timing had arrived by itself.

The imperial banquet in three days was danger.

It was also opportunity.

A prince returning from the northern border. Noble households gathering in Zichen Palace. The emperor watching. The Crown Prince household attending. Countless eyes, countless calculations, countless mouths that could spread a story before dawn.

If Madam Xu wanted him to appear weak and controllable, he would give her an answer.

If the Shen family wanted to use him as a chess piece, then they should first learn whether the chess piece was willing to remain on their board.

That night, news of Shen Yuheng’s recovery reached the main courtyard.

Madam Xu was drinking bird’s nest soup beneath a painted lamp when the servant reported it.

“He woke?” she asked gently.

The servant lowered her head. “Yes, Madam. Young Master Yuheng woke this afternoon. Qingmo said he is still weak, but he should be able to attend the banquet.”

Madam Xu’s spoon paused.

Across from her, Shen Yulan frowned at once.

“He is still going? He was unconscious for three days. Why doesn’t he simply stay in bed?”

“Yulan,” Madam Xu said softly.

Shen Yulan bit her lip. “Mother, you know what people are saying. His Majesty may choose a spouse for the seventh prince at this banquet. If Shen Yuheng goes…”

Her voice was full of unwillingness.

Shen Yulan was not ugly. Among noble daughters, she could even be called pretty. But pretty was a candle flame. Shen Yuheng was moonlight on snow. Since childhood, as long as he entered a room, others would see him first.

Even if he said nothing. Even if he wore plain clothes. Even if he stood quietly behind the elders.

That face alone was enough to make people unfair.

Madam Xu put down the spoon.

“Your father has already said that the invitation includes him. If he does not attend, outsiders will say our Shen family neglects its legitimate child.”

“But if he attends and is selected?”

Madam Xu’s gaze deepened.

“Being selected is not always a blessing.”

Shen Yulan did not understand at first. Then her eyes moved.

The seventh prince had military merit, but he had grown up in the northern army. He had no deep foundation in the capital, no maternal clan strong enough to shake court politics, and no reputation for gentle temperament. A ger married to him might seem glorious, but if the seventh prince returned to the border, would the spouse follow him to suffer cold winds and military hardship?

Besides, the capital had more than one prince.

The Crown Prince held the Crown Fief near Tianjing and performed capital-adjacent duties. His title was prestigious, his household established. The second and third princes also had supporters. Compared with them, the seventh prince was sharp, dangerous, and uncertain.

Madam Xu sighed softly.

“Your sister’s future must not be rushed. As for Yuheng, his legitimacy is useful. If he can be exchanged for imperial favor, that is also a contribution to the family.”

Shen Yulan relaxed slightly, but jealousy still pricked her heart.

“Then why let him dress well? I heard Qingmo went to fetch that moon-white robe left by Shen Lanyin.”

At the mention of Shen Lanyin, Madam Xu’s expression chilled for the briefest moment.

But she soon smiled.

“He is the legitimate child. At an imperial banquet, he should naturally dress according to his status.”

The words were proper and generous.

Only after the servant withdrew did Madam Xu’s fingers tighten around the handkerchief.

She had not expected Shen Yuheng to wake so quickly.

The physician had clearly said the medicine would leave him weak for at least half a month. It would not kill him outright, only damage his vitality and make him dependent on treatment. At most, he would attend the banquet looking pale and pitiful, unable to resist arrangements.

But now, for some reason, Madam Xu felt uneasy.

It was as if something that had always been quiet in the side courtyard had opened its eyes.

Three days passed quickly.

During those three days, Shen Yuheng did very little.

At least, in the eyes of the Shen household, he did very little.

He remained in his courtyard, drank light porridge, rested often, and appeared to be carefully nursing his body. Qingmo blocked most visitors by saying the young master had not fully recovered. The servants who came to test the waters saw only a pale, quiet figure reading beside the window.

But inside the room, the system had already scanned the remaining medicines, identified two problematic incense blends, sorted through the courtyard accounts, and analyzed the banquet guest list Qingmo had secretly copied from the steward’s desk.

By the evening before the banquet, Shen Yuheng had a clear understanding of his current position.

His household was weak.

His father was unreliable.

Madam Xu was dangerous but not yet desperate.

Shen Yulan was jealous and easily provoked.

The imperial banquet would likely determine whether he remained a neglected ger child in the Shen house or became tied to a prince’s household.

As for Xiao Jingyuan, the seventh prince…

Shen Yuheng’s finger paused on the name.

The memories attached to him were mostly rumors.

Guarded the northern border at fifteen.

Killed enemy commanders at seventeen.

Rarely returned to the capital.

Cold, dignified, difficult to approach.

His Majesty valued him, but the court feared his sharpness.

Young, powerful, and not easily controlled.

Shen Yuheng looked at the three characters for a moment longer.

Xiao Jingyuan.

For some reason, when he read the name, the system produced a faint flicker.

【Unknown resonance detected.】

Shen Yuheng lifted his eyes.

“Explain.”

【Insufficient data. Resonance source unclear. Recommend physical proximity scan.】

Physical proximity.

That meant they would have to meet first.

Shen Yuheng folded the paper and placed it into the brazier. The flame licked upward, swallowing the inked names one by one.

“Then we shall see.”

The next morning, Tianjing was wrapped in clear autumn light.

Carriages from noble households rolled toward the palace roads one after another. Silk curtains swayed, jade pendants chimed, and the sound of wheels over stone filled the avenues. The entire capital seemed to be holding its breath for the banquet at Zichen Palace.

Inside the Shen residence, Shen Huaili stood in the front hall wearing formal robes, his expression solemn and somewhat anxious.

Madam Xu stood beside him, graceful as ever.

Shen Yulan wore a peach-colored dress embroidered with butterflies. She had dressed carefully, but the moment Shen Yuheng appeared, the brightness on her face dimmed.

He came from the corridor slowly, Qingmo following half a step behind.

The moon-white robe left by Shen Lanyin fit him perfectly. Silver-thread clouds moved faintly with each step, neither showy nor dull. His black hair was half-bound with a white jade hairpin, the rest falling behind him like ink. His face had not fully regained color, but that slight pallor only made his beauty colder and more luminous.

For a moment, even Shen Huaili forgot to speak.

This child had always been beautiful.

But today, standing beneath the morning light, Shen Yuheng looked less like a child raised in a declining household and more like an immortal guest who had mistakenly stepped beneath mortal eaves.

Madam Xu’s smile stiffened almost imperceptibly.

Shen Yulan’s fingers twisted around her handkerchief.

Shen Yuheng bowed according to etiquette.

“Father. Madam.”

His voice was calm, neither warm nor resentful.

Shen Huaili coughed lightly and finally recovered himself.

“Since your body has just improved, speak less at the banquet. Follow the household arrangements. Do not lose propriety.”

Shen Yuheng lowered his eyes.

“Yes.”

Madam Xu stepped forward and said gently, “Yuheng, your father is worried for you. Palace banquets are different from family gatherings. Your health is not good, so do not force yourself. If you feel unwell, tell me at once.”

Her expression was full of concern.

Shen Yuheng looked at her.

Madam Xu’s eyes were soft, her posture proper, her tone flawless. If he had not already scanned the medicine, even he might have admired her composure.

After a breath, Shen Yuheng smiled faintly.

“Many thanks, Madam.”

Only four words.

For some reason, Madam Xu felt her heart skip.

Before she could examine that feeling, Shen Yuheng had already turned and walked toward the gate.

The carriage bearing the Shen family crest waited outside.

Qingmo helped lift the curtain.

Shen Yuheng paused before stepping in and looked back once at the residence behind him.

The Shen House of Rites stood beneath the autumn sun, dignified from the outside, decaying within. Red doors, carved beams, old plaques, inherited rules, hidden poison. Everything here had trapped the former Shen Yuheng for sixteen years.

But from today onward, the cage would no longer recognize the bird inside it.

He stepped into the carriage.

The curtain fell.

Wheels began to turn toward Zichen Palace.