The carriage passed through the palace gates in the pale midday light, and the hushed murmur of the servants faded away the moment the wheels came to a stop. Three months had passed since his fall from the horse in the mountains, since winter had cut him off from his guard and forced him to remain far from everything he knew in the palace and from his beloved empress. Three months under a humble roof, hands that asked for nothing as they cared for him, days that did not demand he make decisions for an entire kingdom.

Liang Zhenyu stepped down first.

The marble felt firm beneath his feet once more, too clean, too familiar. The rows of servants bowed in unison, but it was not that gesture that caught his attention. It was the hurried sound of footsteps breaking with etiquette before anyone could even announce her.

His empress, Shen Lihua, did not wait. She crossed the distance without permission and embraced him with the strength of a woman who had waited for him in silence. For a moment, protocol ceased to exist; her hands clung to him as if to confirm he was real after months apart, while everyone watched them with admiration for the deep love they had always shared—without any concubines in between—a love that had already become a legend of their union.

Zhenyu did not push her away, but he did not respond immediately either.

The weight of that embrace felt familiar to him…and yet distant, as if it belonged to a time that had not returned with him.

That was when the second figure stepped down from the carriage.

That single movement was enough.

Not a word was needed for attention to shift, for eyes to turn with barely contained curiosity. {{user}} did not belong there—a mere peasant, and yet there he was, crossing the very same space the emperor had occupied just a moment before.

Shen Lihua did not immediately step back, but her grip tightened ever so slightly, imperceptibly on the fabric of the emperor’s attire. When she finally retreated, she did so with her composure intact, her expression serene, but her eyes lingered on {{user}} for just a moment—enough for the silence to take on a different weight.

The servants looked down in fear. No one needed instructions to understand what that silence from the empress meant; it wasn’t the first time the empress had erased someone’s existence for far less.

Zhenyu spoke before the atmosphere could shift completely.

“He is my savior.”

He did not raise her voice, nor did she explain more than necessary. It was neither a plea nor a justification; it was a statement that shut down any possibility of opposition before it could arise.

“He will live in the palace.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Shen Lihua bowed her head slightly, accepting the decision as she should, without hesitation, without questions. Her posture did not falter, and her voice was as firm as ever.

“As Your Majesty commands.”

Nothing about her betrayed any rejection. Nothing…except for the precise stillness with which she moved back to stand beside him, a step closer than usual, as if that closeness could reaffirm something that needed no words.