The procession that entered was almost blinding. The first to step in were maids dressed in immaculate yellow uniforms, their every movent synchronized to perfection.
It was clear that physical appearance had been a key factor in their selection—each one of them was delicate and stunning, with elegant features and graceful steps.
Hua Jing tilted her head slightly as she watched them enter in an intricate formation. Their steps were asured, their gazes lowered in perfect decorum.
A murmur of approval spread through the hall, followed by a soft round of applause.
Hua Jing turned to Zhao Yan, who remained completely unmoved, his face unreadable beneath his golden mask.
She pursed her lips.
Alright, fine. Maybe this is normal for him. But for ? This is like a whole imperial drama unfolding before my eyes!
Her attention quickly snapped back to the front as the maids, having taken their positions, suddenly parted in unison.
A single figure stepped through the space they had created.
Hua Jing’s breath hitched for a mont.
You again?!
It was none other than the First Consort!
Dressed even more extravagantly than before, she practically shimred with wealth.
The deep purple of her robes—an extrely rare color, only worn by those of high status—was adorned with delicate golden embroidery, while sparkling gems lined the hem of her sleeves.
How did she even manage to change that fast?
Hua Jing narrowed her eyes slightly, glancing toward Zhao Yan, but he remained expressionless.
The First Consort walked with practiced grace, her chin slightly lifted, eyes scanning the hall with an air of absolute confidence. But when her gaze landed on Hua Jing, it flickered with disdain.
Ah, here we go again.
Without a word, the First Consort passed Hua Jing with a huff before stepping forward and bowing deeply to the Emperor and Empress.
"Greetings, Your Majesty, Your Highness," she said smoothly, her voice laced with elegance.
Her etiquette was flawless. Every movent, every bow was precise, exuding the refinent of soone who had been raised to embody perfection.
Hua Jing’s lips parted slightly as she observed.
Wow. I an, she’s an absolute nace, but credit where it’s due—she knows how to act!
After paying her respects to the Emperor and Empress, the First Consort turned toward Zhao Yan.
She took a step forward.
Hua Jing watched in mild horror as the woman gracefully lowered herself into another deep bow.
"Greetings, Royal Husband," she said, her voice perfectly soft and demure.
Silence.
Hua Jing’s mouth fell open.
She blinked once.
Then twice.
Hold on a second. What?
It wasn’t just the words. It was the way she said them. The softness in her voice. The deliberate pause. The way she lingered in the bow, as if expecting so grand response from Zhao Yan.
Hua Jing turned to look at him.
Still unreadable.
Oh, co on. React, will you?!
The situation was both utterly ridiculous and deeply uncomfortable.
Hua Jing leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "You have to respond, right?"
Zhao Yan let out a barely audible sigh before nodding slightly.
"Hmm."
That was it.
Hua Jing almost choked.
The First Consort, however, rose from her bow with practiced ease, as if she hadn’t noticed the lack of enthusiasm.
Hua Jing stared at Zhao Yan again.
"That’s it? Just hmm?" she whispered incredulously.
Zhao Yan gave her a sidelong glance. "Would you prefer I say more?"
Hua Jing narrowed her eyes. "Depends. Are you about to call her beloved wife or sothing ridiculous like that?"
Zhao Yan’s lips twitched. "No."
Hua Jing half-smirked.
"Then carry on," she said, flicking her wrist dismissively.
Deep down, though, she felt a little sorry for the First Consort.
The woman had entered with such flair, bathed in radiance, as if she were the celestial maiden descending from the heavens. Yet, all that effort had been t with a single, lackluster hmm from Zhao Yan.
Hua Jing almost wanted to laugh.
But on the other hand, she also wanted to smack Zhao Yan across the head.
That is no way to treat a lady!
Seriously, how could he be so indifferent? A woman had practically waltzed in with golden beams following her, and all she got was hmm? The audacity!
He was lucky they were in a banquet. If they were alone, Hua Jing was quite certain she’d have already taught him so manners.
The First Consort lingered for a mont, her poised expression faltering ever so slightly. But she quickly regained her composure, bowing again to the Emperor and Empress.
"Your Majesty," she announced, her voice carrying through the hall, "this royal consort was filled with such joy upon hearing that her royal husband had returned safe and sound."
Her words dripped with warmth and affection—almost exaggeratedly so.
Hua Jing fought the urge to roll her eyes.
Was it really necessary to say royal husband so dramatically?
The First Consort continued, her voice honeyed and graceful.
"Because everyone has been so stressed as of late," she said, "I have prepared a dance to entertain and uplift Your Majesties and all esteed guests."
The Emperor, smiling, gave a slight wave of his hand. "Go on."
The First Consort’s face lit up with delight. She straightened elegantly, turning to motion toward the musicians.
A subtle glance was exchanged, and within seconds, the soft strumming of a lute filled the air, followed by the delicate chi of bells.
Then, just as she was about to step forward, she turned.
And glared directly at Hua Jing.
Hua Jing blinked.
The gaze was full of deep animosity even though it was masked with a flashy smile.
Hua Jing was silent for a few seconds trying to take in what was happening around her but it seed difficult with the first consort staring at her as if she wanted to strangle! her right there and then!
What now?
She had done absolutely nothing to this woman—nothing! Yet, here she was, once again getting the glare of the century.
Hua Jing narrowed her eyes slightly.
What do you want now lady?
The First Consort gave her one last sharp look before stepping into the center of the hall.
Then, with a graceful swirl of her sleeves, she began to dance...
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