If smug looks could set curtains on fire, the Queen would've burned down the entire Hall of Virtuous Justice by now.
She sat on the dais with her chin lifted a little too high, lips curved in a smile that whispered I told you so without saying a single word. And next to her, Yufei wore her usual lavender silk, her hair perfectly styled, and the same expression people get when they're served extra dessert without asking.
You'd think people who just lost face in front of the entire court would lie low for a while.
Apparently not.
The great hall buzzed with tension, the kind you could butter and serve with tea. Ministers fanned themselves slowly. Cultivators lined the walls, silent and watchful. Someone had even re-lit all the ceremonial lanterns for dramatic effect.
Then Minister Chang stepped forward, a scroll in hand, and cleared his throat with the gravity of a man about to say something that would probably ruin my life.
"We have completed our review of the ancient records," he announced. "And we have reason to believe that Consort Li Mei Lin is the reincarnation of the Goddess of Water."
Gasps erupted instantly. Right on cue. It was like they practiced it in rehearsal.
Minister Chang continued, clearly enjoying his moment under the divine spotlight.
"According to texts discovered in the sealed vaults of the Southern Archive, the Goddess of Water once appeared over five hundred years ago. The scrolls speak of her healing the sick, ending famine, and restoring prosperity to the land during a time of great calamity."
A pause. Dramatic. Of course.
"It does not name the calamity. Only that she came when the world most needed her… and disappeared once her role was fulfilled."
How convenient, I thought. Show up, save the day, ghost everyone.
Honestly, I respected her.
The court rippled with murmurs. Even the King looked… pleased. Like he had just found a divine ace tucked up his embroidered sleeve.
Then one of the northern ministers stood, eyes gleaming. "If the Goddess of Water has returned to Luyang," he said loudly, "then surely the other cities will now have to bend to us. Heaven itself has chosen our kingdom."
Wow. I was being drafted into political warfare faster than I could say I'm allergic to prophecy.
I resisted the urge to facepalm. Barely.
Minister Chang bowed slightly toward the throne. "Since Consort Li has not yet gained full control of her powers, it is this court's recommendation that her efforts be focused entirely on training. She must learn to command the water—fully, without hesitation."
My inner soul let out the shrillest scream.
Before I could voice an objection or faint dramatically into someone's ceremonial sleeve, the Queen rose.
And smiled.
Which, in my experience, meant something terrible was about to happen.
"I, too, have uncovered relevant material during my own review of the goddess legends," she said, each word gliding across the marble floor like perfume with a poison base note.
"In the oldest surviving record," she went on, "there is one detail often overlooked. The Goddess of Water, for all her beauty and power… could not bear children."
The gasp this time wasn't rehearsed. It hit like a slap across the chamber. Wei Wuxian muttered a curse word under his breath.
Every eye turned toward me.
I felt my stomach lurch. Well. Looks like our secret was out.
And now we definitely knew who broke into Ming Yu's room days ago.
A fresh wave of whispers swept through the court like ripples through a poisoned teacup.
"She's been married to Prince Wei for some time now, hasn't she?"
"Still no pregnancy…"
"Maybe the scroll is right."
"She does look a little ethereal."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Oh no. I could already see it coming like a runaway carriage with my name on it.
And then, as if summoned by my worst-case scenario, the King turned his head slightly and glanced at his royal physician.
One look. That was all it took.
The physician scrambled forward, robes flapping, scrolls forgotten, his face pale under the weight of a hundred noble stares.
"Consort Li," he said gently, already reaching for my arm, "may I take your pulse?"
What I wanted to say: "No, absolutely not, this feels like a setup and I would very much like to leave."
What I actually did: extended my wrist like I was checking in for a luxury treatment I hadn't agreed to.
His fingers pressed lightly to the inside of my wrist just like the guard had during the last trial. But this was different. His touch lingered longer. His eyes closed, lips murmuring something under his breath as if listening to the wind.
I tried to stay still. Calm. Regal. Divine.
But my stomach was twisting itself into a full-blown spiritual pretzel.
Finally, the physician opened his eyes and grimaced. Not even subtle. Just full-on grimace, like I'd just told him I was dating a scorpion.
"She has an imbalance," he declared solemnly, turning toward the court. "A heavy excess of yin."
The room inhaled collectively.
"What does that mean?" someone whispered.
"She's too cold," someone else said.
"No fire in the womb."
"She's too full of spirit energy—it blocks fertility."
"Wait, too powerful to get pregnant? Is that a thing?"
I was right here, thanks.
The physician bowed low. "This type of imbalance is not uncommon in spiritual cultivators… but in the case of the Goddess of Water—if that is indeed who she is—this would explain the ancient record. Her connection to water and purity would, by nature, prevent the nurturing of new life."
And just like that, my uterus became a matter of national interest.
Wei Wuxian looked like he was about to start swearing in four dialects. His hands were clenched, and I could feel his body coiled beside me like he was about to leap over a minister.
I, meanwhile, stared at the floor and counted backward from ten to keep from lighting the curtains on fire with sheer indignation.
The Queen's smile didn't waver. Of course not.
This was her move.
Her win.
She hadn't just painted me into a divine role. She'd painted me into a divine trap.
Because a consort who can't bear heirs?
Useless to succession. Easier to control. And easier to replace.
The Queen rose again, her voice smooth and sweet as syrup laced with poison. "Since this is a matter of the inner court," she said, "I believe it falls within my authority to propose an adjustment to the consort arrangements."
My stomach dropped.
"I would like to formally name Lady Wang Yufei as a royal consort to Prince Wei."
I knew it!!
Gasps flared across the room. Ministers sat straighter. I turned to Wei Wuxian just in time to see him stiffen like someone had stabbed him with his own sword. His jaw tightened, and his knuckles turned white where they gripped the edge of the dais.
He looked like he was about to explode.
That was the trap. The Queen had him boxed in with ceremony, law, and just enough plausible deniability to make open resistance look undignified.
And she knew it.
Next to him, Lan Wangji had not moved. But his eyes… oh, his eyes. If murder could manifest through sheer restraint, there would have been a pile of ash where the Queen stood.
I shifted my gaze to Ming Yu, standing beside Wei Wuxian. His face was composed, but I knew him too well. He was furious and beneath that—deeply, dangerously worried.
Then… something shifted. He leaned in toward Wei Wuxian and murmured something low and quick, too quiet for anyone else to hear.
Wei Wuxian's brow twitched. And then he looked up. Looked straight at me.
I'm sorry, his eyes said. I have to do this.
Then he turned back to the Queen and smiled. It wasn't his usual cocky grin. It was something else. Something sharper. Reckless.
"Your Majesty," he said, voice suddenly light, almost playful, "if you wish to make Lady Wang Yufei my consort, who am I to refuse such royal favor?"
The Queen's eyes sparkled.
"But," Wei Wuxian added casually, "I must inform the court that I also had… an encounter with one of the palace maids last night."
Silence. Absolute, scandalized silence.
He folded his hands neatly. "It would be inappropriate not to acknowledge her as well, don't you think? If we're planning ceremonies, we might as well do both."
I nearly choked on my own breath. Ming Yu didn't even blink.
Wei Wuxian turned toward the throne, expression guileless. "Your Majesty," he said, tone smooth as lacquer, "I'm sure you understand. You, after all, have what—eight consorts now?"
The King, who had been doing his best to appear neutral throughout the entire proceeding, paused mid-sip. Then let out a low, amused chuckle as if the mask had finally slipped.
"Eight and a headache for each," he said, waving one hand. "You'll learn."
The court rippled with awkward, disbelieving laughter. The Queen's smile didn't disappear but it cracked. Just a little. A flicker of tension pulled at the corner of her mouth. Her hand, previously resting in perfect stillness, curled ever so slightly around the edge of her sleeve.
Wei Wuxian had picked the one pressure point she couldn't publicly challenge.
Her husband's infamous collection of consorts was the worst-kept royal joke in the entire kingdom, whispered about during garden walks, embroidered into gossip fans, and politely ignored by anyone who valued their head.
Now, that weakness—her weakness—had just been dragged into the center of the Hall of Virtuous Justice.
And in front of the entire court.
She couldn't rebuke him without dragging the King down. She couldn't accuse him of misconduct without exposing her own lack of control. And she definitely couldn't scold him without admitting she had just tried to force a second consort into his household out of spite.
Check mate.
The Queen lowered her gaze for a heartbeat too long. Then smiled again tight, cold, hollow. "Of course," she said softly, "if Prince Wei wishes to honor his personal… arrangements, we will take it under consideration."
Which was court-speak for: You win this round, but I will find another knife.
The King, meanwhile, was still chuckling into his wine cup. "Ah, young love," he muttered. "Always full of surprises."
Around the room, ministers began clearing their throats, adjusting scrolls, pretending they hadn't just witnessed a silent royal slapfight disguised as a marriage proposal.