Chapter Six: A Banquet to Welcome and Refresh

To welcome and celebrate the triumphant return of the army, the emperor specially arranged a grand palace banquet to honor the generals. As the most beloved princess, Guli was naturally permitted to attend alongside the empress and the crown prince.

The banquet was a scene of lively festivity. The emperor, in high spirits, delighted in music and dance, raising his cup in song, sharing joy with his subjects. Laughter and merriment filled the grand hall.

Guli sat to the right of the crown prince, Wei Chu. As she glanced around the banquet, her gaze immediately settled on the figure clad in deep blue at the foremost seat opposite her.

That day she had only glimpsed a fleeting silhouette, never seeing his face. Now, with a single look, she realized that the hero general—whose valor had won not only the secret admiration of Jin’an but also the whispered, blushing praises of every palace maid—looked just so.

Indeed… he was exceedingly handsome.

Though a military man, he was not rough or imposing. His features were strikingly fine, with sword-shaped brows and starry eyes. Even seated calmly, he exuded an air of cool aloofness, composed and unhurried, as if he were a breeze beneath a clear moonlit sky.

Guli felt that if this feast were a vast night sky, with all others mere small, twinkling stars, then he alone was the brightest moon.

Perhaps she looked a moment too long, for he seemed to sense her gaze. The motion of his hand bringing his wine cup to his lips paused, and he raised his eyes to look her way.

Guli’s heart gave a startled leap. She hurriedly lowered her lashes and bowed her head, outwardly composed, though her hand beneath the table involuntarily clenched. Her heart pounded fast and hard, uncertain whether from nerves or the embarrassment of being caught stealing a glance.

Lie Chang’an followed the direction of that gaze and saw, seated on the dais, a woman with skin as fair as snow. She wore a pale blue fitted gown, its skirt trailing to the floor, with water-lotus colored jasmine blossoms lightly embroidered on her sleeves. Her three thousand strands of ebony hair were gathered in a loose cloud-bun, her brows shaped like willow leaves, accentuating her delicate, alabaster complexion. Her captivating phoenix eyes shone with brilliance, and a touch of pink rouge lent her cheeks a rosy glow. Her lips were brushed with the faintest red, making her face especially lovely.

Lie Chang’an frowned slightly. Judging by her stunning beauty and her seat beside the crown prince, he could surmise the woman’s identity.

She must be the other princess—famed for her beauty, but rumored to be willful—the Princess Danqing.

The princess he’d seen outside Chengkun Hall that day, graceful as an orchid and gentle in manner, though simply dressed, must have been the neglected Princess Jin’an.

Given her lack of favor, Jin’an would hardly be permitted to attend such a banquet.

Lie Chang’an had no interest in palace gossip. He merely looked up at the princess for a moment and saw that she kept her head bowed, revealing the slender, luminous line of her neck that seemed to glow with a bewitching light. His gaze felt suddenly scorched, and he quickly looked away, resuming his wine with an air of nonchalance.

Such a palace banquet could not proceed without lavish rewards. At only eighteen, the young general Lie Chang’an naturally received the highest honors. The emperor, recalling the green youth who had first distinguished himself at the hunting grounds, was filled with satisfaction to see how he had fulfilled every expectation. Like a sword honed to a keen edge, his brilliance could no longer be hidden. The emperor could not help but praise his own foresight in recognizing true talent—this youth was clearly destined for greatness.

In his delight, the emperor bestowed upon Lie Chang’an ten thousand taels of gold, countless bolts of silk, a grand mansion, and the title of Second Rank General of Valor. He also promoted him to commander of the imperial guard, entrusting him with the security detail to escort the emperor to the southern gardens for summer respite in the coming days.

At this, all the civil and military officials could not help but sigh inwardly. At eighteen, this young man, though already decorated for military merit, was now made a second-rank general and commander of the imperial guard. Clearly, the emperor intended him for great things.

And it was not without reason.

Though external threats had been subdued for now, the court itself was unstable, its politics rife with turmoil. Lie Chang’an, born of humble origin and unburdened by complex family ties, was an ideal candidate for imperial favor. The emperor’s intentions were plain: he was openly cultivating his own power.