Chapter 70: Refusing the Proposal

Just as she closed her eyes, bracing herself for an embarrassing fall, she felt herself swept into a strong and sturdy embrace. Powerful arms held her securely, saving her from the mortifying fate of sprawling helplessly on the ground. Looking up, Shen Qianmo saw that it was none other than Lu Ziqing, who stood nearest to her.

A wave of relief washed over her, and she found herself grateful to Lu Ziqing. Had it not been for his swift reflexes, she truly would have ended up flat on her back. Everyone else here was a man, and this was all taking place under the emperor’s very gaze—how mortifying it would have been to fall in such a manner.

She was just about to thank Lu Ziqing when Eunuch Li’s clear voice rang out, announcing loudly, “Your Majesty, Prince Xuan requests an audience.”

Meng Yuanheng had arrived! Shen Qianmo could not help but look toward the entrance.

Not far from the great hall, a young man in blue, Changdong, pushed a wheelchair forward with a blank expression. Seated in the wheelchair, a man dressed in dark robes, cold and aloof, caught sight of Lu Ziqing supporting Shen Qianmo. For a fleeting moment, a trace of anger flashed across his usually serene and frosty features.

At Eunuch Li’s announcement, a fleeting joy flickered in Emperor Mingde’s eyes, though his expression remained solemn. In a deep voice he said, “Admit him.”

“Summon Prince Xuan for an audience!” Eunuch Li’s distinctive voice echoed through the hall.

As his words fell, Meng Yuanheng’s wheelchair reached the main entrance. Changdong lifted the chair lightly over the high threshold of the Hall of Diligent Governance, then retreated to stand guard outside. As a bodyguard, unless something extraordinary occurred, he had no right to enter the imperial hall.

From the moment Meng Yuanheng appeared, Shen Qianmo’s eyes and heart were filled only with his lonely, elegant figure. She was completely unaware that Lu Ziqing was still holding her securely.

How many days had it been since she last saw him? She suddenly realized how much she missed him. His face was still pale—had he been cooperating with Situ Gong’s treatments these past days? Now that she knew her own background, she understood that he must loathe setting foot in this palace again. Yet, whether it was at the Hall of Blessings last time or here today, he had returned again and again, surely to protect her.

Thinking of this, Shen Qianmo felt her heart soften.

Their eyes met, and she gazed at him quietly. When she received Meng Yuanheng’s silent plea for forgiveness, she sighed inwardly, realizing she could never resist the vulnerability in his gaze. Resigned, she stepped forward and gently pushed his wheelchair across the spacious hall toward where Emperor Mingde sat in state.

Meng Yuanheng kept his eyes straight ahead, ignoring everyone else, though a subtle joy appeared on his tense, handsome face. As he passed Lu Ziqing, he cast him a cold, fleeting glance. His grip on the wheelchair tightened until his knuckles turned white, and his eyes burned with rage.

His internal strength was profound, his vision keen; from outside the hall, he had clearly seen Lu Ziqing’s hands still holding Shen Qianmo, unwilling to let go. In that instant, he had felt an almost uncontrollable urge to cut off Lu Ziqing’s hands.

Lu Ziqing was well aware of the hostility emanating from Prince Xuan, but his stern expression did not change. He merely returned a polite bow.

When they reached the emperor’s side, Meng Yuanheng’s cool, distant voice sounded. “Your subject, Meng Yuanheng, greets Your Majesty.”

Hearing his deliberate coldness, Emperor Mingde’s face betrayed a trace of disappointment as he replied in a deep voice, “There is no need for excessive formality.”

He sighed inwardly. Ah, this second son of his—it seemed forgiveness would not come easily.

Seeing the face that so resembled that of his beloved consort, the emperor was struck by memories of the past. That gentle, laughing woman had once been wholly devoted to him, but for the sake of the throne, he had ultimately betrayed her. Who would have imagined she would leave him a son?

This thought filled him with guilt toward Meng Yuanheng. His tone softened, almost ingratiating. “Prince Xuan, your arrival is timely. I have just bestowed the imperial immunity token—unique in our dynasty—upon Miss Shen. Should she become your princess, this token will belong to your household.”

At these words, Meng Tianluo’s face turned ashen, and his gaze towards Meng Yuanheng grew ever more venomous. He recalled all his careful plotting and schemes, all in vain, and could not help but seethe. His eyes drifted bitterly to the poised and graceful young woman at Meng Yuanheng’s side.

This seemingly delicate woman possessed a strange power—every difficulty he threw her way, she overcame with unflappable composure. It was as if she harbored boundless, hidden abilities, making him both hate and admire her. And now, she had even gained this priceless imperial token—he muttered bitterly to himself that he had lost more than he ever hoped to gain.

Meng Tianxu and Meng Tianyan both offered Meng Yuanheng a faint smile and a reserved, “Congratulations, Prince Xuan,” their expressions inscrutable.

Meng Yuanheng ignored them all, his gaze fixed only on Shen Qianmo, to whom he offered a gentle smile.

The only one truly delighted was the Fourth Prince, Meng Tianlin. From the moment Meng Yuanheng entered, Meng Tianlin had been unable to contain his excitement. Now, propriety forgotten, he bounded forward, exclaiming, “Brother Heng!”

The others were used to such antics, but Shen Qianmo could not help but twitch at the corner of her mouth. The contrast was simply too jarring for her.

Meng Yuanheng, however, uncharacteristically softened, greeting Meng Tianlin with gentle affection. “Tianlin.”

It was rare to see him so warm to anyone; Shen Qianmo was genuinely surprised.

Meng Tianlin crouched down, shaking Meng Yuanheng’s arm, his face pure and guileless. “Brother Heng, Tianlin really likes Sister Shen. Please marry her soon—I want her to become your princess right away.”

Shen Qianmo almost choked on her own saliva at this. Surely this big, silly fellow wasn’t put up to this by Meng Yuanheng?

Meng Yuanheng ruffled Meng Tianlin’s hair and smiled. “All right. If it’s your wish, Brother Heng will make sure it comes true.”

Because of his guilt toward Meng Yuanheng, the emperor, seeing his son’s affection for Shen Qianmo, decided to help him along. He laughed heartily and said, “What Tianlin says is reasonable. Miss Shen, it’s been half a year since I decreed your betrothal to Prince Xuan. Is it not time to choose an auspicious day for the wedding?”

He turned to Eunuch Li. “Li Yuan, if I recall, the eighth day of next month is a most auspicious day, is it not?”

Eunuch Li bowed in affirmation. “Your Majesty is wise—next month’s eighth day is indeed a rare and fortunate date.”

As an experienced servant, he knew well how to echo his master’s intentions.

“Very well,” Emperor Mingde nodded. “In that case, let us set the date. I shall officiate your marriage myself. What say you both?”

At this, Meng Tianlin leapt for joy. “Wonderful! Father, you are wise indeed. Brother Heng, Sister Shen, I can finally have wedding sweets—how happy I am!”

Meng Tianyan smiled, his voice clear as he congratulated Meng Yuanheng. “Congratulations, Prince Xuan.”

Meng Tianluo was visibly resentful, Meng Tianxu as enigmatic as ever, and Lu Ziqing’s face grew even darker.

Meng Yuanheng paid no heed to anyone else, but only clutched Shen Qianmo’s hand tightly, his eyes filled with hope.

Seeing this, Emperor Mingde knew Meng Yuanheng had no objections, but as Shen Qianmo remained silent, her head bowed, he pressed her gently, “Miss Shen, what say you?”

Ah, the lengths to which he must go to win this second son’s favor.

Shen Qianmo’s calm, melodious voice rang out through the hall. “Your Majesty, I must decline.”

“Oh? And why is that?” The emperor asked, surprised.

He was not alone; everyone else was equally taken aback. Hadn’t rumor long held that Prince Xuan and his future princess were deeply devoted to one another? Though not yet married, all had tacitly acknowledged their bond. Why, then, would she refuse here and now?

“Mo’er!” Meng Yuanheng looked at her anxiously, suddenly afraid.

Had he been too rash and angered her?

Meng Tianlin, crestfallen, hurried to Shen Qianmo’s side and clutched her sleeve. “Sister Shen, why won’t you agree? Brother Heng is a good man—why don’t you want to marry him?”

Shen Qianmo patted his hand and gave Meng Yuanheng a reassuring look before replying to the emperor, “Your Majesty, when the marriage was first bestowed, Prince Xuan requested a year’s delay. There are still five months remaining, and his health has not yet recovered. Thus, I have a request, if Your Majesty would grant it.”

At the mention of the year-long agreement, Meng Yuanheng looked utterly dejected. Emperor Mingde found the sight amusing. Hmph, stubborn boy—now you must reap what you sow. He looked at Shen Qianmo with interest. “And what is your request?”

“I ask that we honor Prince Xuan’s original proposal and wait out the year. If, by then, his health meets my satisfaction, we will proceed with the wedding.”

Meng Yuanheng had never felt so frustrated in his life. What possessed him back then to propose such a delay, hoping to dampen the emperor’s enthusiasm for the match?

He tightened his grip on Shen Qianmo’s hand, looking at her mournfully, filled with regret.

But Shen Qianmo remained unmoved, for this was a decision she had reached after careful thought. Five months remained in the year, and it would take at least four for Meng Yuanheng to be fully cured of his cold poison. The timing was perfect. If he valued her enough, he would surely devote himself to cooperating with Situ Gong’s treatments.

This man, cold as jade yet achingly alone, had endured too much pain—both in body and heart. All she wished was to do her utmost, so that in the years to come, he might once again become that radiant, spirited youth, proud and resplendent as the moon after rain.