In the heart of the Imperial Palace District, within the grand halls of the towering Celestial Dragon Palace, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense. The ministers, generals, and nobles assembled in the imperial court sat in complete silence, their faces taut with anxiety. The vast chamber, with its high, gilded ceilings and ornate columns, felt eerily quiet, as if the very air had been stilled by the gravity of the situation. What should have been a routine meeting had become a grim gathering, the reason for the silence clear—dire news had arrived, news that could alter the fate of the empire.

The Second Prince of the Frost Kingdom, Han Ming, who had been held as a 'guest'—a diplomatic hostage—in the capital for over a decade, was missing. Not only was he missing, but evidence suggested that he had managed to escape the confines of his gilded prison at least a month and a week ago, perhaps even longer. That such an important figure had disappeared, undetected, for almost two months was a catastrophic oversight. It was an unforgivable lapse that could spark a war.

At the head of the room, seated on an ornate throne, was Emperor Feng Zhou. His figure commanded attention, draped in a luxurious robe of lavender silk, embroidered with real gold thread that gleamed softly in the light streaming through the tall windows. The emperor’s dark hair was tied neatly in a traditional bun, secured with exquisite pins made of jade and precious metals. His sharp, chiseled features, unmarred by age, still held the beauty of a younger man. Even at nearly fifty, his face and physique bore testament to years of rigorous martial training. He could easily be mistaken for a youthful prince with just a bit of grooming, his vitality and commanding presence defying the passage of time.

As his piercing black eyes scanned the room, there was not a single sound from the gathered officials. The ministers, many of them seasoned statesmen, dared not meet his gaze, their heads bowed in a mixture of fear and shame. The emperor’s patience, however, was wearing thin, and it showed in the tightness of his jaw. He finally broke the silence, his voice low but laced with cold fury. “So, none of you have an answer to this monumental failure?” His words echoed in the chamber, each syllable cutting through the stillness like a blade. “You all fall silent the moment I demand an explanation for this oversight?”

He let the question hang for a moment, his gaze narrowing as he observed the fidgeting ministers. “Very well,” he continued, his tone now carrying a hint of menace. “Since none of you wish to speak, the entire Ministry of Foreign Affairs will bear the consequences.”

The room seemed to collectively hold its breath, a ripple of dread passing through the ranks. “Except for the three heads,” Emperor Feng Zhou declared, his voice echoing with finality, “everyone else in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs shall be exiled to the Inokish Islands. If they have wives or daughters, they will be given as concubines to the Ministry of Justice and Order. If the members are women, they will be sent to the Mist Pavilion, and their husbands and sons shall join them in exile.”

A murmur of horror swept through the court as the harsh decree sank in. The high-ranking officials of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs fell to their knees, pleading for mercy, their voices overlapping in a desperate chorus. “Your Majesty, please! Forgive us! We beg of you!” they cried, but their words seemed only to harden the emperor’s resolve.

“You dare ask for forgiveness now?” Emperor Feng Zhou’s voice was thunderous, reverberating through the hall. “Your negligence has endangered the peace of the Central Plains Empire! You allowed a hostage, whose very presence ensured our leverage over the Frost Kingdom, to escape, and you did nothing. You failed the empire, and now you ask for mercy?” He waved his hand dismissively, and the guards, clad in dark armor, moved swiftly to escort the pleading ministers out of the hall, their cries growing fainter as they were dragged away.

Once order was restored, the emperor’s attention shifted to the head of the Ministry of Economic Affairs, an elderly man in his sixties who had managed to remain calm amidst the chaos. The man’s hair was white, and his face lined with age, but his eyes were sharp and focused. He stood and bowed deeply, knowing he was next to be addressed. “See to it that the Ministry of Foreign Affairs is restructured with competent and reliable personnel by next month,” Emperor Feng Zhou commanded.

The old man nodded respectfully, his voice steady. “It will be done, Your Majesty,” he replied, bowing again before taking his seat.

Emperor Feng Zhou then turned his gaze to the Prime Minister, Lady Lianhua, a striking figure dressed in a blue martial uniform. Her jet-black hair was pulled back, accentuating her sharp, jade-like features. She exuded an aura of calm authority, her icy demeanor making her appear almost unapproachable. Despite her somewhat masculine attire and bearing, there was an undeniable elegance about her, a subtle grace that betrayed her femininity.

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“Prime Minister Lianhua,” the emperor said, his voice softening slightly. “Have our message of goodwill delivered to the Frost Kingdom’s capital before the Second Prince Han Ming can reach it. Announce the date for his marriage to my daughter, two months from now.”

Lady Lianhua inclined her head, her expression as cold and composed as ever. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she replied. “I anticipated this course of action and have already sent a letter in your name, stating, ‘We are delighted to honor our promise of marriage and alliance.’ There were some logistical delays, but I am confident that the message will arrive before the prince does.”

The emperor allowed himself a rare smile, pleased with his prime minister’s foresight. “Good. Once the announcement is made, the Frost Kingdom will have no choice but to proceed with the marriage. If they attempt to declare hostility after the engagement is formalized, it will tarnish their reputation across the continent.”

It was a calculated move. If the announcement of the marriage date reached the Frost Kingdom before Han Ming returned, the Frost Kingdom would be trapped in a diplomatic bind. Refusing the engagement now would paint them as aggressors, warmongers unwilling to honor an alliance. Such a reputation would alienate neighboring nations, causing them to distance themselves from the Frost Kingdom both politically and economically. Trade would suffer, and alliances would be strained, all to the benefit of the Central Plains Empire.

Emperor Feng Zhou’s eyes glinted with satisfaction. This was his way of turning the tables, of ensuring that the escape of the prince did not lead to immediate conflict. By moving swiftly and decisively, he would keep the Frost Kingdom's hands tied, at least until the wedding. And once the alliance was sealed, the threat of war would be postponed, buying him time to strengthen his position.

“Our hand of friendship must reach them before they can declare the Second Prince’s escape a success,” he said, his tone resolute.

The court was still tense, but the flurry of decisions had restored a semblance of order. With the immediate actions sorted, the emperor turned his attention to a smaller, intricately carved throne beside him, where his wife, Empress Momo Zhou, sat with an air of calm detachment.

Empress Momo was a vision of elegance and grace. Her hair was styled meticulously, adorned with jade hairpins that glimmered softly in the morning light, each piece a testament to the finest craftsmanship. The rich fabric of her elaborate hanfu draped around her figure, its deep hues of crimson and gold beautifully contrasting against her flawless, porcelain skin. Despite the chaos unfolding around her, she wore an expression of quiet boredom, as if the political maneuverings of the court were little more than a dull spectacle.

The emperor's sharp, commanding gaze softened as he looked at her. He spoke in a gentler tone, filled with affection and respect, “You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?”

For a moment, Empress Momo’s demeanor shifted. Her sharp, discerning eyes, which could pierce through even the most intricate courtly schemes, softened as her lips curved into a serene, almost teasing smile. “I didn’t,” she replied, her voice smooth and melodic. She turned slightly, her eyes meeting his with a playful glint. “But if I had, what would you do? Chain me up? Send me to the Mist Pavilion to whore?” Her tone was casual, almost nonchalant, but there was a hint of challenge behind her words.

Emperor Feng Zhou's lips curled into a grin, appreciating her boldness. “If you did, then I must say you played your hand brilliantly,” he admitted, a hint of admiration creeping into his voice. “Do you really think I could bring myself to punish you, my love?”

He spoke the words with a knowing smile, aware that there was no simple answer to his question. It was as much a declaration of his affection as it was a subtle acknowledgment of the power she wielded. “I hope we find the real culprit soon,” he added, his gaze lingering on her, searching for any trace of deception.

Empress Momo's smile widened, a mysterious, almost knowing expression gracing her features. “I hope so too,” she said softly, her tone as sweet as it was inscrutable.

The conversation drifted back to the matters of the court, with the next issue on the agenda brought forward, but a silent understanding passed between the emperor and the empress.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, illuminating the imperial city, far from the opulent halls of the palace, a different scene played out. Deep within the wilderness, near a tunnel in the mountains, Shun stood at the entrance, his hands burdened with several heavy bags. The bags were packed with essentials—dried jerky, salted fish, water skins, and warm clothes, along with a few small iron tools, all in preparation for the harsh winter months ahead. He had been gone for days, gathering supplies, and now his return marked a moment of relief and reunion.

Striking a flint, Shun managed to light a torch, its small flame flickering against the cool air of the tunnel. The journey was made cumbersome by the weight of the supplies, but he moved with practiced ease, navigating the winding passageway until it opened up into a vast, hidden cavern. As he emerged, the sight before him was as breathtaking as it was familiar—a small, secret village taking form inside the cave, complete with humble huts, lush greenery, and a ceiling that allowed shafts of sunlight to stream down, casting an ethereal glow over the area.

But today, something felt different. The air was tinged with a sweet, unfamiliar scent that seemed out of place. Shun paused, his senses alert, trying to identify the source of the fragrance, when a familiar voice broke through his thoughts.

“Brother Shun! You’re back!” a young, excited voice called out, echoing through the cavern. Shun turned just in time to see a small figure sprinting toward him—Minho, her face lit up with a bright smile, her arms wide open as she ran.

Hurriedly, Shun set down one of the heavier bags, bracing himself just as Minho leaped into his arms. He caught her easily, chuckling as he did. “My, my, Xiao Minho,” he said, feigning a stern tone, though his eyes were warm. “You really need to stop jumping on me like that. You’re growing up, and a young lady shouldn’t be behaving so recklessly. Besides, you’re getting heavier by the day.”

Minho pouted, sticking out her tongue in mock defiance. “It’s not me who’s heavy, it’s you who’s getting weaker! Tsk,” she retorted, making a playful face.

Shun couldn’t help but laugh, the sound echoing softly through the cavern. As he set Minho down, he noticed a few other familiar faces approaching—Tao and Gu, their expressions curious and welcoming. But before they could say a word, Minho tugged at Shun’s sleeve, eager to share her news. “Anyway, Brother Shun, you have to see this! I made sugar!”

Shun blinked, caught off guard. “Sugar?” he repeated, his brow furrowing in confusion.