Chapter 37: Verses Beneath the Moon

The Spring Festival of Poetry arrived like a breath of warmth after winter’s chill. Liángzhōu’s courtyards bloomed with cherry and plum trees, their petals drifting on the breeze like whispered verses. Silk banners in rose and jade fluttered between pillars, each inscribed with calligraphic lines from famous poets. Lanterns—paper shells painted with ink‑wash landscapes—hung overhead, their glow promising magic once dusk fell.

Li Xiao stood at the entrance to the Hall of Blossoms, heart fluttering. She wore a gown of pale rose silk, its sleeves embroidered with silver lotus blossoms. Her black hair was swept into a loose chignon, secured by the jade hairpin that had accompanied her from the palace kitchens to this moment. At her waist, the silver‑filigree brooch from Ambassador Eirian caught the morning sun.

Grand Advisor Jin Tao awaited her, his dark robes edged in silver thread. His crimson eyes held a soft warmth as he approached. “You look radiant,” he said quietly.

She inclined her head, cheeks warming. “Thank you, Grand Advisor.”

He offered his arm. “Shall we?”

Inside the Hall of Blossoms, the air was fragrant with incense and spring flowers. A raised platform held low cushions for the emperor and his court; scrolls of freshly penned poetry lay upon lacquered tables. Courtiers, foreign envoys, and artists gathered in concentric circles, awaiting the festival’s opening.

Jin Tao and Li Xiao seated themselves before the emperor’s dais. The emperor, resplendent in pale jade robes, nodded to Jin Tao, signaling the start. Li Xiao’s pulse quickened—she would recite her own poem tonight, a tribute to unity and renewal.

First came recitations by Isles’ envoys: delicate verses of sea foam and sunrise. Then, local poets read lines of plum blossoms and parting spring. When the moment arrived, Jin Tao bowed and spoke her name: “Archivist Li Xiao.”

She rose, scroll in hand, and stepped onto the platform. A hush fell. She unrolled the parchment and let her voice carry:

Under lanterns’ bloom,
Two hearts weave silent oaths—
Petals meet moonlight,
Shadows fade in shared promise,
Dawn waits on whispered dreams.

Her words drifted like petals on water. Li Xiao closed her eyes at the final line, the echo of her own voice still warm in her ears. When she opened them, the hall was silent—then the emperor inclined his head in approval, and the audience broke into polite applause.

Jin Tao rose and bowed, his gaze never leaving her. Li Xiao returned his bow, her heart alight with pride and relief.

After the recitations, guests mingled beneath lantern‑lit pavilions. Silk fans rustled, cups of rose‑scented wine passed from hand to hand, and musicians played gentle melodies on zithers and flutes. Li Xiao wandered the gardens with Jin Tao at her side, the world around them bathed in pink and gold.

They paused beside a koi pond where lanterns floated like blossoms on water. Li Xiao reached out, touching the surface and sending ripples through the reflections.

Jin Tao stood close. “Your poem was exquisite,” he said softly. “You captured our journey—petals and moonlight, shadows and promise.”

She looked up, meeting his crimson gaze. “I wrote what I felt… because of you.”

He smiled, a rare, genuine curve of his lips. “And I felt it in every word.”

Their hands brushed, and Li Xiao’s breath caught. The lantern glow danced in his eyes, and for a moment, the world narrowed to the space between them.

As the festival’s lantern‑lit dances began, Li Xiao and Jin Tao found a quiet veranda overlooking the gardens. A soft breeze carried petals through the air. Jin Tao took both her hands in his.

“Li Xiao,” he began, voice low, “we have faced rebellion, conspiracies, and hidden flames together. Each trial has forged our bond.” He paused, gathering courage. “I wish to face every dawn with you at my side.”

Li Xiao’s heart thundered. She searched his face, seeing in his crimson eyes the depth of his devotion. “Jin Tao,” she whispered, “your trust has been my light. I wish the same.”

He reached into his robe and produced a slender box carved from sandalwood. Opening it, he revealed a pair of silver rings—one etched with a lotus, the other with a phoenix.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, voice trembling with hope.

Tears pricked Li Xiao’s eyes. She nodded, unable to speak. He slipped the lotus ring onto her finger, then placed the phoenix ring on his own.

They sealed their vow with a gentle kiss beneath the lantern glow, petals drifting around them like blessings.

The celebration resumed around them, but Li Xiao and Jin Tao remained in their own world for a while, savoring the moment. Eventually, Li Xiao looked at her ring, then at him.

“What next?” she asked with a soft laugh.

He held her close. “We return to duty—together. There is much to do: festivals to plan, alliances to strengthen, and an empire to guide.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “With you, every path is bright.”

That night, as the last lanterns were extinguished, Li Xiao returned to her quarters. She found a letter waiting, sealed in crimson wax: an imperial edict announcing her engagement to Grand Advisor Jin Tao, and granting her the title of Imperial Literary Consort—an honorific that recognized her contributions to culture and diplomacy.

Li Xiao’s hands trembled as she read the edict. She pressed it to her heart, tears of joy spilling down her cheeks.

When Jin Tao arrived to escort her to their next audience, he found her radiant in the lantern’s afterglow. He bowed and took her hand.

“The emperor’s blessing,” he said with a proud smile.

She nodded, voice choked with emotion. “Our lantern burns brighter than ever.”

Under the palace’s silent walls, Archivist‑Consort and Grand Advisor walked side by side—partners in love, duty, and the promise of every dawn yet to come.