A storm was brewing in the grand hall—not of wind and rain, but of tension so thick it could choke the air itself.
The jade pendant still rested in the stranger's hand, its carved imperial seal catching the golden glow of the lanterns. It was proof—undeniable, inescapable proof —that they were more than just a bold intruder.
And yet, Shen Haoyu's father, the Emperor, did not move. His expression remained unreadable, but his fingers, resting on the throne's armrest, had curled into a tight fist.
It was a subtle reaction. One that most wouldn't have noticed.
But Haoyu noticed.
His father, the most powerful man in the empire, was unsettled.
The hall was silent, save for the faint crackling of incense burners. Nobles and ministers held their breath, waiting for the next move. The tension in the air felt like a blade, sharp and unyielding.
Then, Minister Zhang—one of the Emperor's oldest advisors—spoke, his voice trembling slightly.
"Your Majesty… it must be a trick. That pendant—it could have been stolen. The royal treasury was raided in the past, was it not?"
The stranger let out a quiet breath, almost like a laugh. "You're afraid."
Zhang stiffened. "You dare—"
"You all are." The stranger's eyes swept over the court, their presence commanding despite their lack of finery or titles. "Otherwise, why do you refuse to say my name?"
Their name.
The name of the lost heir.
Shen Haoyu remained silent, his mind racing. He had always thought the prophecy was nothing more than an old story—one of those myths used to stir up rebellion, to give hope to those who had none.
But now…
Now, the proof stood before them.
His father finally exhaled, slow and measured. "Speak your name," he commanded. "If you claim your blood is royal, then say it before this court."
The stranger tilted their chin up slightly, their gaze unwavering.
And then, they spoke.
"My name is Shen Lianfeng."
A ripple of shock spread through the hall. Whispers broke out—some in disbelief, others in horror.
Shen.
They had spoken the imperial surname.
And the name Lianfeng—one that should have been forgotten, buried under history—echoed through the chamber like a ghost resurrected.
Shen Haoyu's breath felt heavy in his chest.
He knew that name.
Everyone in the imperial court did.
Shen Lianfeng.
The child who was never supposed to exist.
**************
Years ago, there had been rumors. Whispers that the late Consort Ruyi, one of the Emperor's favored concubines, had birthed a second child in secret.
But the child had disappeared.
Some said the baby had died at birth. Others believed the Emperor had hidden them away, seeing them as a threat to the rightful heir—Haoyu himself.
Over time, the whispers had faded.
But now, that child—the lost heir of legend—stood in front of them, very much alive.
The Emperor's expression did not change. If he was affected, he did not show it. "You expect me to believe this?" he said, his voice calm, almost indifferent. "That you are my blood?"
Lianfeng took a slow step forward. "You already do."
The Emperor's eyes darkened, but still, he did not react.
Instead, he turned to his son. "Haoyu."
It was not a request. It was an order.
Haoyu slowly stood from his seat, meeting his father's gaze. "Yes, Your Majesty?"
"What do you see?"
Haoyu's fingers curled at his sides. He knew what his father was asking.
He was asking if he saw the truth.
Haoyu turned toward Lianfeng.
Now that the hood was gone, he could see them more clearly. The sharp angles of their face. The quiet fire in their eyes.
And then there was something deeper—something beyond mere resemblance.
A feeling.
A quiet, unshakable certainty in his chest.
He exhaled. "They… look like us."
It was the safest answer he could give.
But even that was enough to send the court into another round of murmurs.
The Emperor studied him for a long moment before turning back to Lianfeng. "You bring an old tale into my court and expect me to accept it?"
"I don't expect you to do anything," Lianfeng replied. "I came to warn you."
A flicker of something—perhaps curiosity—passed through the Emperor's eyes. "Warn me?"
Lianfeng nodded. "A storm is coming."
Haoyu frowned. "What do you mean?"
The lost heir's gaze shifted to him for the first time that evening. "There are those who already know who I am. And they will not wait for the Emperor's decision."
Silence.
Then—
The doors to the banquet hall suddenly burst open.
A soldier stumbled in, his armor stained with blood. His breath came in ragged gasps.
"Your Majesty—" he choked. "The palace gates—they've been breached."
Shen Haoyu's heart stopped.
The nobles erupted into panic, their hushed whispers turning into frantic cries. The guards inside the hall immediately reached for their weapons, forming a defensive line around the Emperor's throne.
The Emperor's expression remained unreadable, but Haoyu caught the subtle shift in his posture—he had not expected this.
Lianfeng didn't react with shock or fear. Instead, they simply exhaled, as if they had been expecting this all along.
Then, they turned to Shen Haoyu.