Chapter 35: A Stirring Heart: Yielding to Advance

As soon as Ning’an Princess finished speaking, the expressions around the table varied. Empress Meng frowned at her daughter, while Noble Consort Shen shook her fan with keen interest. Prince Gong, leaning against the table, kept a calm facade but lowered his voice to ask, “Your sister—she knows how to dance?”

Yan Yue lifted the wine cup beside her and took a sip with downcast eyes. “Qing’er doesn’t.”

“Wouldn’t that make a fool of her?” Prince Gong paused, then urged in a low voice, “Quick, think of an excuse to get her out of this. If she loses face in the palace, it won’t reflect well on Prince Gong’s Mansion either.”

“Please stay calm, Your Highness.” Yan Yue set down her cup, her face serene and unperturbed.

Unsure why she seemed so confident, Prince Gong wanted to say more, but Empress Meng, seated at the head, suddenly spoke up. “Zhaohua, stop fooling around. Young Master Yan isn’t a dancer. This is really quite rude.”

“Mother, you’re mistaken. Father just said this is only a family banquet.” Liu Zhaohua finished, then turned her gaze to Yan Yiqing. “Even a seventy-year-old woman can entertain her parents in colorful attire. Young Master Yan is in her prime—why not dance to amuse Father and Mother?”

Whether she danced or not, Yan Yiqing was bound to make a fool of herself today.

Seeing her ready with a retort, Empress Meng pressed her lips together and didn’t intervene further.

Zhao Huairen knew Yan Yiqing well enough by now.

Of course, she knew—Y an Yiqing couldn’t dance at all.

Her callused fingertip gently rubbed the rim of her wine cup as Yan Yiqing’s long lashes lowered, remaining silent for a long time.

Determined to humiliate Yan Yiqing in the hall, Liu Zhaohua seized on her silence. “Why doesn’t Young Master Yan reply? Don’t Father and Mother deserve a dance from her?”

Zhao Huairen’s brows furrowed, but she didn’t immediately speak up for Yan Yiqing. She still didn’t know how Yan Yiqing wanted to handle this—if she rashly intervened, it might only make Zhaohua more desperate and aggressive.

Moreover, she inexplicably believed…

Yan Yiqing could resolve this herself.

“Father, this son is too thin-skinned. It seems I can’t persuade Young Master Yan.”

Even though Yan Yiqing’s military post had been stripped, the emperor still harbored resentment toward this former Youzhou commander. Liu Zhengkang wouldn’t stoop to personally insult her, but he wouldn’t pass up a chance to blunt her edge either.

“You’re a princess of Great Yong—how could you be thin-skinned?” Liu Zhengkang narrowed his eyes. “We’re all family here. Since Zhaohua wants to see it so much, why not grace us with a dance for entertainment, Young Master Yan?”

She might have found an excuse to decline before.

But now that His Majesty had joined in, she couldn’t casually refuse.

Glancing sideways and seeing Yan Yiqing’s lowered lashes, Zhao Huairen spoke. “To be favored by Ning’an Princess, this minister’s wife shouldn’t refuse, but—”

“Colorful attire to entertain one’s parents—the princess makes a good point.”

Though clearly speaking up for her, Zhao Huairen was directly interrupted. Far from annoyed, a flicker of anticipation lit her eyes.

“It’s just that this official is dull and unskilled in civil dances.” Yan Yiqing’s voice was slightly cool, neither humble nor arrogant. “But if Your Majesty and the princess don’t mind, this official can try a martial dance.”

A martial dance? She was willing, but the palace had no musicians for it. A sly glint flashed in her almond eyes as Liu Zhaohua looked toward the head seat. “This daughter hasn’t seen a martial dance before. Today, I can feast my eyes.”

The emperor tapped his fingers lightly on the table, smiling without a word.

With Yan Yue and Prince Gong at today’s banquet, and Noble Consort Shen by the emperor’s side, she had plenty of simple ways to refuse.

But that would mean missing an opportunity.

A chance to let Noble Consort Shen and Prince Gong see that she could not only slay enemies bravely but also yield to advance.

Her red robes traced a shimmering arc in the air as Yan Yiqing rose from her seat and walked calmly toward the Jinwu Guards at the hall door.

The guard stood tall, hand on his sword. Seeing her approach, he looked slightly stunned. “General.”

He was one of the Youzhou Guards who had entered the capital with her.

Now dispersed, assigned to various Jinwu Guard posts.

“May I borrow your sword?” Yan Yiqing extended her hand, palm up, her gaze like a deep, still lake.

The guard meant to hand it over directly, but under her faintly warning look, he glanced toward the emperor in the hall.

The emperor said nothing, only nodding slightly.

Clang—

The long sword unsheathed, its cold gleam illuminating her refined features. Yan Yiqing’s fingertips lightly stroked the blade, testing its weight, then gripped it reversed and turned to the center of the hall.

A somewhat heavy iron sword.

In her hand, it was light as a cloud.

“Young Master Yan is willing to dance, but the palace musicians aren’t familiar with martial tunes.” Liu Zhaohua furrowed her delicate brows, feigning difficulty.

“No matter.” Yan Yiqing said calmly, “It’s just for entertainment. I hope the princess won’t laugh.”

Ning’an Princess wanted to humiliate her.

She hadn’t expected accompaniment in such a situation anyway.

Liu Zhaohua raised a brow, noncommittal.

No matter how well she danced, being forced to perform like this publicly was utterly humiliating.

Yan Yiqing twirled her wrist into a beautiful sword flower, silently counting the beats in her mind, just about to begin.

“Wait.” Zhao Huairen’s voice was clear and smooth. Her raven-black robes brushed the tea table as she strode straight to the musicians’ seats. “How can a martial dance lack music? I recently obtained an ancient score that might match Madam’s sword intent.”

Everyone had thought Zhao Huairen would stand by idly, but not only did she speak up for her—she was even willing to share the embarrassment.

Liu Zhaohua’s delight vanished instantly, displeasure flaring. “Brother Huai Jin!”

Yan Yiqing dancing alone would be humiliating.

Together, it became a display of spousal harmony.

And Brother Huai Jin’s qin skills were exquisite…

“Enough.” The Crown Prince shot her a warning glance.

Gritting her teeth in resentment, Liu Zhaohua turned away.

Across several meters, Yan Yiqing looked straight at Zhao Huairen, who sat poised at the qin, her distinctively jointed hands already resting on the instrument.

Her smooth ink-black hair draped over her shoulders.

Her sword brows held an edge, yet her gaze was clear and gentle.

Just sitting there, she was beautiful like an immortal from a painting, a sight for sore eyes.

Not one to spurn kindness, Yan Yiqing appreciated her intervention, but Yanjing’s decadent tunes were worlds apart from this dance.

Yet things had come to this.

She couldn’t very well chase her away now.

Yan Yiqing sighed inwardly and nodded lightly to her, raising her hand to flourish the sword.

Her raven lashes trembled faintly as Zhao Huairen lowered her phoenix eyes, her fingertips plucking the strings. The music burst forth.

In an instant, roaring yellow sands seemed to rush at them.

Her ear tips twitched.

Yan Yiqing’s grip on the sword tightened.

The qin sounded like tearing silk. Her gaze fixed, her toes pointed, and her figure spun out abruptly, the sword slicing a rainbow through the air.

No soft swaying of hips.

Only chops, thrusts, flicks, and sweeps full of killing intent.

Her billowing red robes evoked a battlefield lament. The qin quickened like iron-hoofed cavalry crossing frozen rivers in a dream, the fierce swordplay rising in tandem, refusing to lag.

Only the two of them harmonized in the hall.

Yet they pulled everyone into the battlefield.

Each sword stroke was matched by the qin. The lone wild goose seemed to find its roost; her eyes grew brighter, Yan Yiqing’s brows sharp as blades.

As her robes swirled, the sword tip suddenly swept past Liu Zhaohua’s table—

Everyone’s hearts tightened.

Liu Zhaohua paled in instant fright, but before she could cry out, the sword light had already withdrawn, leaving only a spray of deep purple peonies at the table’s corner.

The stems were neatly cut, taken from the nanmu vase in the corner.

Taking in Liu Zhaohua’s panic and Liu Jinggan’s displeasure, Shen Wanrong’s gaze toward Yan Yiqing held newfound appreciation. She lifted her gilded wine cup and took an elegant sip.

As Yan Yiqing turned, her eyes briefly met Zhao Huairen’s over the qin.

The strings vibrated with a final tearing note.

She leaped high, cold light swirling, the sword tip hooking down the tassels of the high-hanging palace lantern.

Golden silk tassels rained down, and as everyone snapped out of the drifting golden shower, Yan Yiqing had sheathed the iron sword flawlessly.

The hall fell deathly silent.

Liu Zhaohua’s face was beyond description.

“I apologize for the poor show.” Yan Yiqing’s voice was flat, only the stray lock of hair by her ear betraying the earlier thrill.

Zhao Huairen gazed intently at her back, her palm pressed to the still-vibrating strings, her heart pounding like drums—yet to fully calm.

“Fine swordsmanship. Young Master Yan’s dance truly was a feast for these eyes.” Noble Consort Shen raised her cup toward the emperor, her voice soft. “What does Your Majesty think?”

Liu Zhengkang clapped and laughed. “Excellent! A true heroine who rivals men!”

Prince Gong chimed in at once, Yan Yue added timely praise, and though the Crown Prince and others were reluctant, they could only join in the acclaim.

“You weren’t bragging—General Yan’s swordsmanship is indeed impressive,” the Jinwu Guard at the door murmured.

From such a distance.

To throw the sword back into its sheath showed profound skill.

The guard who had lent his sword to Yan Yiqing puffed up with pride. “Today’s was just a taste. You haven’t seen… General Yan’s spearwork—that’s the real standout.”

Thinking of their former leader, the other Jinwu Guard pursed his lips and fell silent.

“His Majesty bestows a reward: twenty bolts of brocade, ten measures of pearls, and ten jade artifacts to Young Master Yan.” Li Dequan announced loudly from the emperor’s side.

“This official thanks Your Majesty for the gracious reward.” After giving thanks, Yan Yiqing returned to her seat.

“Just now… thank you.”

Her hand on her knee clenched and unclenched repeatedly before Yan Yiqing finally uttered those words.

Hearing kind words from her for the first time, Zhao Huairen smiled faintly and raised her cup. “To accompany Young Master Yan was my honor.”

“The Broken Array Melody—how do you know it?”

“Can’t I like the Broken Array Melody?” Zhao Huairen took a sip and lifted her eyes.

“I thought…” Yan Yiqing trailed off, clenching her fist, unable to meet her gaze from start to finish.

She had thought she’d never feel that way again in this lifetime.

But just now, harmonizing with Zhao Huairen…

After the splendor faded, the sudden storm in her heart abruptly ceased.

Just like that startling glimpse seven years ago.

She knew she shouldn’t.

But she couldn’t control her heart.

Seeing Yan Yiqing equivocate, her face alternating between light and shadow, Zhao Huairen said, “Young Master Yan needn’t worry. My actions just now had no ulterior motive—I simply couldn’t bear to see you bullied because of me.”

“That’s not it.” Unconsciously clenching her fist, nails digging into her palm, Yan Yiqing found this situation harder to handle than Liu Zhaohua’s provocations. “Today’s matter… I owe you a favor.”

“Alright.”

Zhao Huairen set down her cup, her long lashes lowering slightly.